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A sly smile tugged at her lips as her arms went around my neck.
"I think that might be for the best," she agreed, voice faux serious. "I might even require physical therapy of some sort," she added, spreading her legs to slide around the sides of my body, pulling me in closer.
"Whatever it takes to make you feel—fuck," I grumbled when the oven timer chimed.
A knowing smile curved her lips as she pushed me back, so she could jump down, going toward the oven, grabbing gloves off the counter on her way.
"What are you making?" I asked.
"Cinnamon rolls," she told me, setting two trays on the oven to cool before dropping two more in.
"How long do they need to cook?"
"Not long enough for physical therapy," she told me with a saucy look over her shoulder.
"Damn," I grumbled, moving in behind her as she grabbed a piping bag of frosting.
And maybe I pressed close to her so she could feel the proof of how much I wanted some... physical therapy.
A low, whimpering noise escaped her as she pressed her ass back against me.
"Soon," I promised her.
"Not soon enough," she grumbled, doing another hip wiggle.
"How long do they cook for?"
"Twenty minutes or so," she said, finishing her frosting.
"I think I can get at least one good orgasm out of you in that time," I said, grabbing her arm, dragging her back out of the kitchen and down the hall.
There was nothing slow or sweet about the way we clawed at each other, desperate for skin, for touch. We were both bare before we even got to the bed.
Before she could even get on the bed, I had the condom out and rolled it on.
"No, here," I demanded, grabbing her as I sat off the side of the bed, pulling her onto my lap, but facing away from me. "You'll come faster," I assured her as I slid my cock between her thighs, waiting for her to lower down on me.
She took a second to get the rhythm before she started doing little circles with her hips. My hips did thrusts upward into her as my hand went between her thighs, working her clit.
It turned out I was wrong.
I got a solid two good orgasms out of her in. With a couple moments to spare for recovery before she needed to slip back into her clothes, then rush back out toward the kitchen.
I sat there after for a long moment, pulling myself together before following her out, watching as she hummed while frosting the rest of the cinnamon rolls.
Yeah.
That was the kind of woman a man would kill for.
And if that motherfucker Glen had been the one to attack her, to attempt to kill her, yeah, I was the exact kind of man to rip the still beating heart out of his chest.
Like father, like son, I guess.
Chapter Eighteen
Holly
I'd been really anxious about having Shep at the clubhouse. I guess I just wasn't sure how he would respond to the guys, or how the guys would respond to him. What with the temporary special needs and all.
I'd forgotten, though, that Shep had been a big bike guy before his accident, so he actually ended up having more in common with any of them than I did.
And aside from Dezi stealing his wheelchair once to zoom around the clubhouse then down the road, leaving a bemused Shep stranded on the couch while he did so, they'd been great about helping him in subtle ways that didn't make it seem too much like they were helping.
If someone grabbed coffee, they just brought him one. Or food. They made sure they didn't leave anything in his way and shifted things to lower shelves if they saw Shep coming, so he didn't need to ask them to get him anything.
I barely knew the guys, but I was pretty much in love with them all.
I mean... one much more so than the others, but still.
And then, well, then the girls showed up. With what looked like half of a big box store in bags on their arms.
They showered me with gifts and fawned over Shep who, I have to admit, was eating it up. Aside from the doctors, nurses, and physical therapists he'd been around, he hadn't spent time around any women in ages. It was clear how much he'd been missing it.
"What's the matter?" Billie asked, dropping down beside me on the couch with uncharacteristically non-sexual giant banana earrings. Well, I thought they were non-sexual. Until I realized they had little condom hats and a winky face on them. "You're frowning at your very sweet, very yummy brother," she informed me.
I guess I had been.
I just didn't realize anyone was watching me.
"I don't understand why he is so happy," I told her. "No, like... not because of the fire," I added at her surprised look. "But... he's supposed to be withdrawing," I told her.
