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I can’t help but be reminded of the last time I was shopping. I haven’t heard from Deanna since the last time I saw her, but then, when she gave me her number the morning after I first met her, her words were, “Use it if you want to see me again.”
She never texted me wanting to have sex. It’s not surprising that she hasn’t texted. She did spout something about how she had a fuck buddy, so she’s probably been satisfied by him the past two weeks. Meanwhile, I can’t stop thinking about her. This is exactly why she needs to stay out of my life. She’s already fucking with my head. The only time she’s out of my head is when I’m on the ice.
I spend the next hour shopping for a clock and avoiding thoughts of Deanna. I find the clock, but am walking around the outdoor shopping center when my feet lead me to the door of the fucking quilt shop. I really don’t know what it is about this woman. We mostly fuck. She likes to talk some after sex, but not in a getting-to-know-you kind of way. The only personal question she asked was the night we met. She asked me again about my job. She wanted to know what I did and I froze. I blurted out that I was a financial analyst. That’s my normal go-to lie if I’m lying about my job. Girls think it’s boring and they don’t ask questions.
I’m about to return to my car, but stop short when I see Deanna, smiling and laughing as she stands behind the counter, chatting with a customer. She works here? Before I can think twice, I storm through the door. Her eyes widen when she sees me. Luckily, the customer is walking away.
“What the fuck, Deanna?”
She takes my hand, calls someone to take over the register, and leads me back to the break room. “Okay, so surprise,” she smiles, “I own this place. We were never going to get caught, but it was fun to think you might, right?”
What? “You’re fucking crazy.”
That causes her to grin. “You’ve been worried about it, haven’t you?” She laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry, Brayden, really, but I wanted to push you a little without actually putting us in any danger. My employee that day happened to be my best friend, so it all worked out.” Her fingers walk up my chest.
“I hate you.”
“Yet you still want to fuck me, don’t you?” She smirks.
I grab her hand when she starts walking her hands downward.
“What’s in the bag??
? she asks when I don’t reply because yes I want to fuck her, but I’m having a hard time remembering why I don’t want to.
“A present for my mother.”
Deanna plucks the bag from my hands and peers inside. “A clock?” she asks with curiosity.
“It’s what she asked for.”
She hands the bag back to me and glances around the room. “So, it’s been two weeks.” Her eyes flick up to mine and I grin.
“And?”
She shrugs. “You barged into my shop. Just making conversation.”
“I got an explanation, so it sounds like I can leave.” She frowns, and I add, “Unless there’s something you want to ask me?”
Deanna folds her arms over her chest. I have a feeling she’s never had to ask her fuck buddies for sex; they’ve always reached out to her. She wants me? She can ask for me. I grab her hips and pull her flush against me.
“You like to play games with me, Deanna.” I lean forward to press a kiss to her jaw. “I don’t like playing your games.” That makes her laugh and I kiss her neck. Her back arches as my mouth travels to her chest to place a kiss on what cleavage she has exposed. A breathy moan catches in her throat and she grabs the back of my head. “Sounds like you want me to fuck you again. Do you?” I bring my mouth up to hers, but I don’t kiss her yet.
“I don’t like your games.”
I chuckle. “We’re even then.”
Her hand tightens in my hair before she breathes her answer, “Yes please.”
I kiss her finally. Kissing her is never enough. I’ve only been with her a handful of times, but I know that already. There’s too much tension, her mouth a source of too much pleasure, and the woman doesn’t know how to keep her hands to herself or in relatively safe zones. I pull away before her hand gets too close to the waistband of my jeans. “Come to my house tonight.”
She hesitates for a moment. “I have plans.”
“More important plans?”
“I can be swayed to cancel if you’ll feed me.”
I shake my head. “See me tomorrow.” At her frown, I add, “I’ll feed you then.” I don’t like the idea of being responsible of her canceling whatever plans she has. I give her one more kiss and leave. It’s not until I get to my truck that I groan with mild regret. I was doing just fine until I saw her again. Without trying, the woman draws me to her.
