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So yeah… Deep breaths, thoughts of shit other than the woman still straddling him, and trying to ignore the perfect, dark pink pussy hovering over his face.
Im-fucking-possible.
He slapped her ass again. “Need to move.”
“You or me?”
“Both. Unless you don’t mind me starin’ at your gorgeous glory and don’t want fucked.”
She let out a soft laugh and shifted until her ass was out of his face, then collapsed to the side and off him.
“I want fucked,” she said with no hesitation and plenty of amusement.
“That’s good ‘cause I wanna do the fuckin’.”
“You’re not fucking me with your clothes on.”
Whip sat up and wiped a hand over his mouth. “Nope. You’re gonna see all my glory, too.”
“I’m sure it’s ‘gorgeous glory.’”
“You can let me know.” He rolled away and to the edge of the bed since his jeans were pushed down far enough to hobble him. “Grab a wrap.”
She shot him a confused look. “A wrap?”
He tipped his head toward the nightstand. “In the bowl.” He worked his jeans down the rest of the way and yanked them off.
“Ah.” The mattress shifted as she moved off the bed and went to the bowl.
Thank fuck she wasn’t shy about her body. He liked a woman who didn’t have any hang-ups. Everyone had scars and faults, nobody was truly perfect.
The ones who looked perfect were usually Photoshopped.
Reilly had gone off on a tangent one day about a calendar Dutch hung up in the shop. It was full of women in bikinis straddling Harleys. It went up next to the yellowed and worn 1996 calendar of naked women spread across the hoods of restored muscle cars.
She bitched about how fake those photos were and how they gave girls and women unrealistic expectations of themselves. Dutch had flapped a hand in her direction and grumbled. The rest of them just shrugged.
“See? You all expect us to look like that. We don’t!” she had shouted, stomped into the office and slammed the door behind her.
They all shared a “what the fuck” look and shrugged again.
“Who’s gonna buy a calendar full of ugly bitches with tiny tits?” Dutch had shouted at the closed door.
“Might wanna quit while you’re ahead and still breathin’, old man,” Cage had warned his father.
“I’m gonna go take cover. It’d be smart if the rest of you do, too.” Rook paused on his way to his work bay at the far end of the shop. “Wait, none of you fuckers are smart. Never fuckin’ mind.”
But staring at Fallon naked in her room and her not giving a flying fuck if any of her “faults” were hanging out, made him appreciate her all the more.
He was no fucking magazine model, either. He rarely worked out, he ate and drank whatever the fuck he wanted and he certainly had marks left behind from the last twenty-eight years. He was sure as fuck before he was buried six feet under he’d have plenty more.
He surged to his feet, his erection hard and heavy, and shrugged out of his cut, folding it up and placing it on the spare bed. Before he could remove his thermal, Fallon stopped him.
“Let me.”
He shrugged and raised his arms enough for her to tug his shirt up his gut. Her fingers dragged along his heated skin, tracing his chest piece along the way. After playfully tweaking each of his nipples, she pulled it up and over his head, then tossed it over her shoulder. Whether it made the other bed or not, he wasn’t sure because he had a difficult time pulling his eyes from hers.
“I said you were cute, but I was wrong,” she murmured.
Damn. “I ain’t cute?”
“No.” She shook her head and let her gaze rake down his body. From his tattooed chest all the way down to his bare knees. “You’re smoking hot. And, I never thought I’d ever utter these words, but those tattoos only add fuel to the fire.”
One side of his mouth pulled up.
Like earlier, she planted her palms on his chest and shoved him. He let himself fall onto the bed. Before he could scramble backward to give her room to join him, she was climbing on the mattress and over him, a wrap tucked between her teeth. She straddled his waist, her hot pussy pressed to his gut, let the wrap fall onto his chest, and stared down at him. With both hands planted on the bed on either side of his head, she leaned forward and took his mouth.
She had to be tasting herself on his lips and tongue. Thank fuck she didn’t mind since she deepened the kiss and practically tickled his tonsils with her tongue.
He drove his fingers into her hair and took control of the kiss, shoving her tongue back into her own mouth. He ended it pretty damn quickly to demand, “Wrap.”
