Page 33 of Goose

She glared at me for a moment. She began unbuttoning her dress. With my eyes glued to her delicate hands, I watched intently as she unfastened it past her flesh-colored bra.

She pulled the cups of her bra down and exposed a set of very perfect tits. She cupped them in her hands. As if it were an everyday occurrence, she peered down and squeezed the flesh.

My cock rose against my jeans with such force that it sent a wave of pain through me. I glanced over each shoulder and then gave her a narrow-eyed look. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Checking my boobs for lumps.” She tilted her head toward my crotch. “What are you doing?”

“Put them up,” I demanded.

“You said I was attractive. So, are you scared of sex?” She squeezed her boobs. “Or just scared of me? It’s one or the other. Or, it could be the other thing I mentioned.” She squeezed them again. “The one that made you mad.”

I’d been chased by the cops, shot at, stabbed, hit in the head with a baseball bat, and been in more armed stand-offs during bank robberies that Bonnie and Clyde. I wasn’t scared of her. I wasn’t scared of sex.

I wasn’t scared of anything.

“I was joking about saying I would have left.” I nodded toward her tits. “Put ‘em up.”

“Make me.”

Having someone shake their bare tits at me in a restaurant wasn’t something I was accustomed to. A girl with a sassy mouth was new to me as well. Apparently, I liked both. My cock became an entirely different degree of hard. One I had no idea existed.

I clenched my jaw. “Put. Them. Up.”

She squeezed her tits and grinned. “Make me.”

“You little smart-ass,” I said though my teeth. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

“I’m not going to tell you again.” She did the side-to-side thing with her head. “Make. Me.”

I could feel each pulse of my heart in my groin. I glanced at her tits and then met her gaze. Auburn ribbons of hair trickled over the front of her shoulders, coming to rest against her cream-colored skin. She was irresistibly adorable.

I considered my options.

I stood.

My cock ached. My head spun. I was in agony. I grabbed her wrist. “We’re leaving. Put your dress up, or I’m going to drag your smart-mouthed ass through this restaurant with your tits hanging out for everyone to see.”

“Where…where are we going?” she stammered.

“To your car,” I growled. “I’m going to teach you a lesson about talking shit to bikers.”