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He shrugs. "Apparently, I owed you one. Just thought now was the perfect time to pay off my debt."
I discretely button my jeans before the next round of people walk in, and then look straight ahead at the screen now playing paid advertisements, a ridiculous smile on my face. It's a foreign feeling—smiling this much. I'm not sure what to do with it. If Saxton trusts him, though, he can't be all that bad, because I trust Saxton with my life in his hands. Besides, more than a little anger would have happened this morning had he really been a bad guy. It's just a week. I can do a week.
His eyes are on me. I can sense them. With a slip of the tongue, the words roll out of my mouth. "I've never been with a younger guy."
I can feel his smile without looking at him. "I've never been with an older woman," he returns, the hint of humor in his tone. "So why don't we not over analyze it and have fun," he says.
The pounding of my heart as the lights turn down reveals one of my own secrets. Somewhere deep down I think I want this . . . with him; whatever this is. One hundred percent. "Okay," I say. "Let's have fun, until you go back to California."
And then I settle back into my chair, grabbing the popcorn and settling it between us. Now if I can just concentrate on the movie. For the first time in my life that may be difficult.
Chapter Nine
Bryant
Istand behind her as she unlocks the door to her apartment, my eyes casually glancing at her ass. Not an inch of loose fabric—the way I like it. There's nothing better than a full ass to grip when she rides your dick, or when you drive home inside of her from behind. Men like a little something to hold onto. She's small, but she has curves.
She walks inside the door and turns around after placing her purse on the table. I remain outside, hands in pockets. For the life of me I have no idea why. Normally, I'd waste no time stripping her bare. I've always had a pretty healthy sex drive, especially with someone new, but something is fucking off with me, and I can't put my finger on it.
She bends forward, removing her shoes one at a time beside the table, the smile she's been wearing most of the night still present. It's insane how beautiful she is. And to think, she's been close this entire time—my best friend's sister. I'm either the stupidest or the smartest fucker there is.
I'm glad she's not one to give a play-by-play of the movie after the fact, wanting to talk about it, because I'm pretty sure I wasn't paying attention through most of it. I was either glancing at her from the corner of my eye or zoned out thinking. "Are you going to stand outside all night or come in?"
"Do you still want me to stay?" I ask, the foreign words coming out of my mouth with a voice I know is mine. I asked? What the hell is wrong with me?
She walks toward me, removing her shirt as she does. My eyes immediately fall to her bare chest. No bra. Holy hell. How did I not notice before? The change in her earlier and now is astounding. With sex she's like a hungry lion and on a date she's a frail lamb. Women are so often the opposite. "Do you think I want you to stay?"
"You tell me. I was here last night. I can go back to my boy's apartment if you want the night to yourself."
Her fist wraps around the front of my shirt and she tugs me forward, shutting the door once I'm inside. The lock sounds as it slides into place. "You aren't getting out of this that easily. I want to find out what in the hell possessed you to send me roses. If it's because you liked what happened last night and this morning, then now is your chance to show me the parts I don't remember. Let me see what you got. I took the day off tomorrow. I have all night if needed." She tugs on my beard. "Don't be stingy with this."
My face reflects the way I feel. I stalk toward her, backing her toward her room. "Oh, I'm going to be stingy, but not like that. You want my face between your legs, you're going to fuck it."
She smiles, and then turns and takes off in a run toward her room. I chase after her, catching her as she hits the frame of her bedroom door, my palm to her front, just above the waistband of her jeans. I force her back against my front, my lips outside of her ear. "I was a football player, baby. I like to run."
Her chest is moving from her breathing. I unbutton her jeans for the second time tonight, walking her toward the bed, but this time push them down her legs until they hit her thighs. She laughs when I push her down, face first into the mattress. I love a girl that can handle rough play, because it's how I like it. It turns me on, it keeps me going strong, and it makes me come.
My hand fists around the back of her panties, yanking them over her ass hard enough I can hear the fabric stretch, until they match the position of her jeans. "Oh, shit," she says in a smothered way as I bite down on her ass cheek. I've been eying it all night. The imprint remains when I drop into a squat, removing the rest of her clothes. She rolls over after stepping out of them, and stands on her knees, once again gripping my shirt. "Fuck, this is going to be fun."
This time she kisses me, hard and needy, her hands already rubbing up my stomach as she pushes my shirt up my body. I help her finish when she reaches my chest. Before I can even discard of it she's working my jeans open and pushing them down to the floor. "Something about this is vaguely familiar," she says, a smirk on her face as she pushes me back and gets off the bed.
"I thought you couldn't remember?" I ask, knowing damn good and well neither one of us remembers much.
"I remember it didn't take long to end up naked," she responds, dropping to her knees. Instead of her mouth filling with words she fills it with my cock, sucking as though she's thirsting and trying to draw the smallest drop to quench it. My head falls back as my fist winds through her hair, tightening in grip each time she clamps down on my head with the pressure from a new suction. I don't even want to know why she can give head so good.
I pull hard on her hair until her feet are pushing her body into a standing position to relieve the tension. "What's the matter? About to come," she says in a taunting manner, drawing out a side of me that I reserve for special occasions at risk it's too much. I don't know why I've always liked rough sex. There is no explanation behind my need for hard play when it comes to a woman in the bedroom. I'm not a broken man. Maybe it's that I never knew the nurture of a mother and this is all I have feeding off of my testosterone. I grew up with a man. Hard is all I've ever known. And I try like hell to tone down my inner desires when it comes to sex, because most girls don't like it.
But she's instigating it. She wants it. And that sassy mouth is about to get more than it's asking for. I grip her neck, drawing a moan from her throat, before pushing her down on the mattress, following behind. "When I'm ready to come, you'll know it."
My hand tightens around her throat and I shove one leg back, spreading her and creating a tilt, as my mouth presses against her lips firmly, the hair on my chin scraping along her skin with every trace of my lips against hers. "Fuck yes," she whispers, her pointed toes pressed against my shoulders.
I flip us, following through on my earlier statement. If she wants my face between her legs she's going to ride it. I want to hear her scream. I press inside her with my thumb, my fingers clamped on her ass, pulling her where I need her. She looks down at me, sitting on my chest, her body in its most beautiful form this way. She smiles at me, grinding against my hand with my thumb inside her, showing she's ready, so I pull her up until her pussy is on my chin and her clit is hovering just above my mouth. Then, I remove my hand and hold her by the hips over me so that she doesn't move, because some of us know exactly what a hurricane tongue is and how to use it.
So I do.
When she screams and arches on top of me, squeezing her own tits, I grip her hair in one hand, pulling down on it like a set of reigns. And when my tongue hardens into a point she rides me until my chin is wet from her cum, her body is coated in a sheen of sweat, and she's shaking on top of me.
She scoots down my torso until we're at eye level, her body laid on top of mine. She's breathing heavy. Without thought my hands begin to rub up and down her back. "Why do you get to make me come if I can't make you come?"
