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She only pauses when she spots Tanker.
“Oh, hello, little man.” Her smile is radiant, lighting up her face as it spreads across her cheeks, making me want to leap across the room and hold her tightly in my arms. “Where did you come from? I thought you were with…”
Finally, she looks up at me, her smile trembling and then dropping. An unreadable look comes into her wide perfect eyes, making me wonder if I’m staring at her like some kind of a weirdo, or if my possessive hungry need is coming through in my expression.
“Oh, hey,” she says. “I didn’t see you there.”
“What were you singing?” I ask. I can’t stop myself, as curiosity swarms up inside of me, fluttering in my chest. “I could hear your voice, but not the lyrics.”
Her cheeks turn a gorgeous shade of red, the blush spreading from her face down her neck and disappearing into the fabric of her dress. I have to fight not to dart forward and pull the front of her dress down, revealing her round fleshy tits.
“I was practicing for this play,” she murmurs. “There’s a short section, very short, where I have to sing. My character’s standing on this balcony and pining after somebody, a lost love, and… anyway…”
She trails off as I move across the room, stopping at the kitchen island. I grip the edge of it as a way to prevent myself from leaping across the short distance and exploring her body with my greedy hands. I can imagine how red the rest of her would turn, her flesh dappling hotly, driving me to deeper and deeper possessive need.
“You don’t need to be nervous,” I tell her.
“Huh?” Her eyebrows quirk, rising, and she tilts her head. “I’m not nervous.”
“About the play,” I tell her. “About your singing. You sound good.”
I’m not nervous…
Then why is every inch of her turning touch-me red, and why is her chest rising and falling with such dramatic movements I can’t help but let my mind fill with a thousand different fantasies?
Her bent over the kitchen island, her dress in bunches in my fists, her round juicy ass begging to be touched. My hand sliding over her ass and down to her pussy, grinding my palm against it, making her slippery and ready… ready for everything I’m ready to give her, driving deep until she couldn’t take anymore.
Fuck.
I’m getting hard.
At least I changed out of my gym clothes. These jeans should hide my desire a little more than my shorts ever could.
“Thank you,” she murmurs after a long pause and then gestures to her plate. “Do you want a sandwich? I’m making turkey salad. I hope you don’t mind.”
I smirk, filling my voice with sarcasm. “Of course I mind. I didn’t think you’d dare to use my kitchen when you were staying here.”
She rolls her eyes, giggling softly, musically, a sound that goes deep inside of me. “Okay, smartass. Well?”
“Sure, sounds good. You can give Tanker a few pieces of turkey too. He normally has a snack around this time.”
“Oh, great.” Her face lights up as she looks down at the little guy, his tail wagging, his mouth open in his most handsome smile. “That’s perfect. I was hoping I’d get to feed the little guy.”
“You like animals?” I ask, sitting at the island.
“I love dogs. We never had one because my mom is allergic, but this little one is just perfect…”
She takes a strip of turkey and kneels down. Tanker sits and watches her patiently, opening his mouth when she offers him the meat. He gobbles it up and then stares at her, head tilted.
“Uh oh, what have I started, huh?” Rayla giggles. She turns to me, her eyes bright, her lips tilted up in a smile, radiant in every sense of the word. “Is he going to quit now?”
“Nope.” I chuckle. “Once you get started with this little lunatic, there’s no stopping.”
“How many can I give him?”
“Two or three more.”
“Okay, awesome.”
I tell myself to stop fantasizing as I watch her feed Tanker, tell myself to quiet the thoughts racing through my mind. But it’s like there’s a song blaring through me, a song that tells me her tender and loving nature will make her a perfect mother.
She looks down at Tanker with such care, with such profound love, that I can’t help but imagine her looking at our children in the same way.
And as the thoughts whirl around me, I feel that emptiness inside of me starting to fill, slowly at first, and then faster and faster as I consume her with my gaze. I want to deny it, to beat it down, but I can’t.
I want her. I need her.
The thought of any other man so much as touching her sends boiling rage through me, chords of jealous energy plucking and reverberating until I’m sure I’d make any bastard pay if he dared to look at her.
