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I flip us over, laying her on her back, and push inside of her so I can set the pace. "I'm going to let you make me come, but I was taught that ladies always go first."
She smiles at me, then grabs the arches of her feet and pulls them toward her head and spread as far as she can go. Limber as fuck too, without force. "I was a cheerleader, baby. I like to bend. Hammer it," she says, returning my smart ass from earlier.
If I believed in such a thing, I would think I just found my soul mate. If I were the marrying kind, she'd be the one. If we didn't live on opposite sides of the country, I'd somehow make her mine. "If love wasn't bullshit I'd say I loved you after that."
She smiles bigger, making my heart stop for a brief second. I've never been on top of a woman, inside her, and not fucking the life out of her, but I guess there truly is a first for everything. "It's a good thing I'm not the lovin' kind. Take it for a touchdown."
"Anything for you, beautiful."
And then I hold to my promise, and tear that pussy up.
Chapter Ten
Tynleigh
An arm wraps around me from the back, a hard body following close behind until it's pressed against me. The tickle of facial hair begins in the hollow of my neck, pulling me out of my slumber. "You're up early," I mumble, my eyes still closed.
"I'm always up early for work. Habit I guess," he says, kissing softly in different places up my neck, stopping underneath my ear.
I roll over, his hand immediately finding my bare ass beneath the sheet. I'm not sure where the comforter is, but it's not on top of my body like it usually is. I smile when the first thing he glances at is my chest. I've wanted them done forever it seems like, but I've never gotten the balls to go under the knife. I know there isn't anything wrong with my breasts; they just aren't as big as I'd like them to be. Mother Nature wasn't cruel, but she wasn't gracious like she was with Kambry either. "That makes two of us, but I thought you owned liquor stores. They don't open till midmorning right?"
His eyes are soft and lazy, his dark lashes thickly lining them. I can tell he hasn't been awake for long. The ends of his hair barely dodge them with the length, but the way he's laying has it swooped to the side from gravity in the most masculine way. For a man he has full lips, accentuated even more from the surrounding dark facial hair. This is quite possibly the sexiest I've seen him yet. "Not for the boss. I go into the main store early every morning and keep track of inventory, payroll, accounting shit, and the list goes on. Some do it on a day the store is closed or after, late at night, but I prefer to actually have a day off and nightlife if I want it, so it works for me. If I have staffing issues I have to deal with that. It's not easy keeping good help. The ones that are worth a damn come and go fairly quickly, because they're usually college kids. I usually don't emerge from the office until lunch. Most days, after, I make my rounds to different stores. When I have a no show or call in with no backup I have to work the front. And when I'm not doing any of those things I'm in the graduate program to get my Masters in Business and taking a few classes in marketing so I can grow the businesses even more at some point. I do also have a personal life to manage with any free time I have, which isn’t much. I'm busy pretty much twenty-four seven. I never had any real clue what all my dad did until I had to do it myself."
It's as if the words just keep falling from his mouth, like he never talks about his life yet needs to. For the first time since I met him his voice sounds tired, worn down, and aged by a decade. I'm not much of a talker myself, at least about important things, but this is . . . nice. "Who's doing all that while you're here?"
"We have someone at every store that opens and closes. They're monitored closely with cameras, the drawers are counted before and after every shift, and there's a safe at every store for petty cash drop at the end of the night that only I have the keys and codes to. Otherwise, my uncle is on standby if something happens and needs attention when I'm unavailable. He'd probably help more if I'd ask, but I just feel like it's my job to deal with."
"Sounds like you need some fun," I say, remembering what today is.
He smiles at me, one arm underneath the pillow, leaving him in the sexiest position. It's not a full smile, but a lazy, sleepy smile. "I think you're doing a damn fine job at accomplishing that. I honestly was dreading this trip."
"Why? What do you have against the big apple?"
"It's not what, but who. Let's just say my boy isn't really dealing with grief in the most appropriate way. Usually his version of fun is exhausting for me. By the time I go back home I feel like I need a week's worth of sleep."
"And here I am stealing you away," I tease, and roll on top of him, making him transition to his back.
"Thank God. It's a great distraction. He doesn't take off work when I come down anyway. He mostly uses me for nightlife, so the days can get boring when I'm here. I haven't figured out the hype yet. I'm not a New Yorker. I love LA."
"You just haven't seen it with the right guide," I tease, my hands rubbing down the short hair on his muscular chest. "Otherwise, it'd be hard for you to leave."
"I don't know. You'd have to convince me. I've been here several times and my mindset has yet to change."
"You trim this, don't you?" I ask, ignoring the topic at hand and zoning out as I study his chest.
"We can't all be smooth. Judging by my face you should have known I was going to have hair elsewhere," he says with a smirk. "Some might argue men with hair on their chest are manlier than those without. Trimming it to the skin keeps it out of my way without dealing with the irritation and hassle of shaving it completely, especially when it comes to new growth. How would you like to be rubbing your hands or face on that much stubble? Guys that do that are fucking themselves in the future. They want no hair but shaving it is only going to make it thicker and longer in the end, defeating the entire purpose of shaving it, because at some point it'll get old."
His thumb lightly rubs against my right dimple when I smile. "I never doubted your manliness," I say, grabbing that semi-hard limb sitting right behind me that has caused me so much unexpected happiness over the last two days. I stroke it, leaning forward enough to kiss the center of his chest; that perfect dip right between his pecs. "And it works in your favor, because I happen to like this better. The only part that I care about being smooth, is."
He flips us over and thrusts against me, his dick now hard. His hair is falling away from his forehead as he looks down at me. I grip it in one hand without thought like it was calling for me to. "I never took you for a girl that likes morning sex," he responds, biting on my nipple with just enough pressure to cause a burst of wetness between my legs.
"There's a lot you don't know about me."
He pushes inside, slowly, his hands pressed into the bed beside me. Every time we've had sex he's started on top. And he calls me the control freak . . . "Like what?"
I smile when he stills. "I love amusement parks."
"Random as fuck," he says, a hint of laughter in his tone.
