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Shit, shit, shit.
This was bad.
I started to squirm, trying to slow the ache as minutely as possible. But the second that I moved, a very big piece of Laric’s anatomy made itself known.
“Ignore it,” he muttered, sounding pained. “It’ll go away in a second.”
I licked my lips. “Umm.” I hesitated. “Okay.”
We both sat very still, and we counted the seconds.
It was when I was at fifty-two that I said, “It’s not going away.”
My pointing out the obvious had him groaning. “I know.”
“Do you want me to move?” I asked, unsure if I should even offer.
I mean, he was the one to pull me down into his lap.
“No?”
I snickered. “Are you questioning me or telling me?”
He grumbled something under his breath. “I can ignore it if you can.”
The thing was, I didn’t want to ignore it.
I wanted to feel it.
I wanted to rub myself against him like a cat.
I wanted to…
“I don’t think I can ignore it,” I admitted. “I, uh, think that I need to move.”
His hands tightened on my hips as he said, “Why can’t you?”
And, because I was truthful beyond a doubt, I said what I said.
“Because I want to stick it inside of me, and with it being this close, touching me so close but not where I want it, it’s all I can think about.” I paused. “I’ve been thinking about this for like, a week now. It started when I watched you…”
“Jack off,” he finished for me, his voice deeper. Smoother. Like a fine, smooth whiskey.
Holy shit.
“Uh, yeah.” I paused. “It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
I winced.
Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that.
But I had.
I mean, when you didn’t want to spread your legs far and wide for every man in a one-hundred-mile vicinity, there weren’t many options for you. You either went out and tried to find someone, or you did your own thing.
I did my own thing.
And my own thing included porn, okay?
It was safer that way. It kept me out of trouble that way.
And to be one hundred percent honest, I hadn’t actually found a guy that I’d want to give up my prudish ways for. Until Laric, of course.
Those hands that were holding me up started to knead my thighs, working my sore muscles loose.
“Ask me why I’ve really stayed away from you for the past four days,” he rasped, his voice sending shivers down the length of my spine.
I licked my lips, my eyes closing as I watched his hand disappear farther up my thigh, working the sore muscles on the insides now.
“W-why?” I asked. “Why have you stayed…” I hiccupped when both hands found their way to the insides of my thighs and squeezed. “…away?”
That squeeze caused them to fall open slightly, revealing my black lacy boyshort underwear. Ones I’d worn because I knew he’d have to help me into my jeans today.
The bra was nothing special. Just a white cotton number that I’d picked up at Walmart. But to be honest, that had set him off more than the lacy underwear had.
“Because I want you,” he told me bluntly. “I’ve wanted you since you gave Zach all that sass.” He paused. “This week has been torture. I shouldn’t want someone I just met this bad. It spoke of bad things to come, to be honest. Obsessive behavior? That’s not typically something that an ex-con should experience, you know?”
I didn’t know.
And I really didn’t care.
As long as it was me who he was obsessive over.
“Fuckin’ left you with an old man today, watched his hands on you through the window from the truck, and about came out of my fuckin’ skin.”
His hands abandoned my inner thighs and moved up to my hips, then a little farther to my ribcage, his fingers only a few short centimeters from my breasts.
“Had to make myself leave, because all I fuckin’ wanted to do was come in there, rip you out of that old man’s hands, and show you who you really belonged to.”
The way he spoke.
The way he sounded when he spoke about me.
Now I’m not saying I’d never had a man come on to me before. I mean hello, I had a stalker ex named Thor who’d taken a shot at me because he didn’t like me in Laric’s arms.
But nobody had ever spoken about how hard it was to control themselves around me.
That made me feel special.
His hands squeezed my ribcage slightly, showing me just how big his hands were. His fingers nearly spanned me the entire way around.
I looked down, and there was barely an inch separating him in the front.
I swallowed, liking the way it looked, his lighter-skinned hands against my darker skin.
“What are you going to do with me?” I asked him, hoping he’d tell me everything.
I didn’t get everything.
I got nothing actually.
Because instead of giving me the words, he got quiet, and showed me.
