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So maybe there was something to his reputation because he felt uncomfortable as fuck talking about his so-called positive attributes. It was awkward. “I’ll just keep the Ice Man label. It’s all good.” He tossed his cars on his coffee table and headed for the kitchen. “Do you want a drink? Water, a beer, anything?”
“Do you have some wine?” She wandered behind him, touching the art and pictures he had hanging on the wall.
It was a habit of hers. Her fingers just briefly brushed over things she was taking in, like she needed confirmation they were real. He wondered if she even knew she did it.
“I don’t have any wine, sorry. I’m not really that big of a drinker. I have a six pack of beer, a bottle of vodka that has been in the freezer for two years, and a bottle tequila that I use maybe once a summer to make my mother a margarita.”
“That’s fine. I’ll just take a water. What’s your mother’s name?”
“Hillary.” He realized if they were put to any sort of test to see how well they knew each other they would fail miserably. “My father’s name is Rob. How about you?”
“My mother’s name is Barbara, though she doesn’t go by that. She’s Barbie.” Leighton rolled her eyes, but she smiled at the same time. “Barbie suits her. She’s very plastic. I don’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just the truth. My father’s
name is Dieter. I think I mentioned to you he’s German.”
“Do you speak German?” Axl opened the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water.
“Not at all.”
“Damn. I wanted to hear you say something sexy in German.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” She took a water from him and twisted the cap. She took a delicate little sip, then nearly destroyed him by taking the tip of her tongue and rimming the bottle.
His cock hardened. Enough of this chatting about their parents. Now was not the time. He wanted to get her naked. “Did you think of how you want me to fuck you?” he said, knowing she would blush, and knowing it would make him even harder.
She didn’t disappoint. Her cheeks turned pink and she tucked her hair behind her ear. But then she turned the tables on him. “I want to fuck you. On top.”
Holy shit. Axl groaned. “Then come on, babe. I mean Leighton.” He would have to think about a better, unique nickname for her. “Miss California. You can have whatever you want.”
She was wearing a dress again. Axl just reached out and lifted it over her head and tossed it on the kitchen counter.
“Axl!”
She was wearing a pale pink bra and panties. They were lace, which did not surprise him. Her bra was pressing her voluminous tits up into an even perkier position than they were naturally, which was pretty fucking perky, he had to say. She started to cross her arms over her chest, but he stopped her by taking both of her hands in his. “What?” he asked, as if he didn’t know.
“You can’t just rip my clothes off.”
He grinned. “No?”
She realized what she had said and what she had asked him to do two nights before. “You know what I mean.”
“Do you want me to strip for you? Would that make you more comfortable?” He lifted his hand to grab his shirt at the back of his neck.
“That’s not stripping.” She stepped back and leaned against the counter. “Stripping for real. Like you do at Tap That.”
“That’s for charity,” he said, putting up a mild protest. Hell, he’d do whatever she wanted him to do.
But Leighton smiled. She put her elbows on his countertop, which did amazing things to her tits, which did amazing things to his libido.
“Do you need some music?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter. I can’t really dance with it, so what difference does it make without it?” While he wasn’t known for having an over-the-top sense of humor, he did feel comfortable enough with Leighton to pretend to pelvic thrust a few times. He rolled his hips.
She laughed. “Oh, my God.”
He turned and bent over and shook his ass and looked at her over his shoulder. He was deadpan while doing it for added effect.
Now she was laughing really hard. “Please stop. That’s just… no.”
