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“Good day?” she asks, opening the oven and taking out something that smells delicious.
“Had to ride out to Utah,” I tell her, hanging my cut up on its hook and making my way over to the table where she’s set up two spaces.
“What went down in Utah?” She places a loaded plate in front of me. I’ve never eaten so well in my life.
I look up from it to nod her a thank you.
“Sorry, forgot, brothers don’t talk club business with their bitches, right?” She makes that sweet little giggle as she takes the seat opposite.
“You ain’t my bitch,” I correct her, sternly.
“Well then, I guess that means you can tell me.” With her elbow on the table, she props up her chin in her hand.
Bad fucking manners.
“We don’t talk club business with anyone.” I’m blunt with her, picking up my fork and digging into the pasta. Rogue is surprisingly an exceptional cook.
“How about we don’t talk club business, and you tell me about you, did you grow up around here?” The way she’s acting is off. I know Rogue’s habits well enough to know when she’s performing.
“How about we just don’t talk?” I suggest. Her prying is making me uneasy and I sure as hell don’t wanna discuss my fucking childhood with her.
“I just thought it would be fun to get to know each other better.” She gives me her wounded puppy eyes, but there ain’t no chance I’m falling for it.
Ignoring her, I finish up my plate. Sure, I feel like an asshole for ignoring her efforts, but not badly enough to want to talk about the past. I ain’t used to people asking questions, I’ve adapted to solitude.
When we’re done eating, I clear up while Rogue takes a shower. A call comes through from Skid, and I take it outside so she can’t hear.
I assure him that everything’s under control, and that she isn’t causing too much trouble. Again, he doesn’t ask me where she’s staying, so I don’t tell him. Though the fact he’s calling me makes me suspect he already knows.
She comes out of the bedroom just as I step back inside, dressed like herself again in cropped denim hot pants that sit just under her ass cheeks, and a short sweater that shows off her flat stomach.
She must know I’ve had a tough day from how I’ve treated her. But then Rogue seems to have a way of sensing my mood, she’s been doing it since the day she’d invited herself to stay with me.
Coming toward me, she takes my hand in hers and leads me over to the couch, and when I sit down she nudges my knees apart so she can stand between them. Her eyes stay on mine as she pulls her sweater up over her head and lets it drop to the floor. My gaze goes straight to her round tits. They’re fucking perfect, topped off with hard pink nipples that I want to sink my teeth into.
I lower my vision over her tight, well-toned stomach to where her fingers are popping open the buttons on her shorts, and watch as she shimmies them off her thighs, rolling her panties down with them over her long legs until they fall at her ankles.
I should stop her, especially when she moves to climb on top of me and straddles my lap, but I don’t. I even let her slide her hand through my hair and position it how she likes it.
Her fingertips trace over my temple, stroking over my jaw line then making a long tingly path down my neck and through my chest. The whole time her eyes remain focused on mine. Daring for me to stop her, and pleading for me not to all at the same time.
This is what I’d usually deem as torture, but somehow, Rogue and her hot as sin body are an exception to all my rules.
I like her hands on me. Having her close feels like the only time I’m getting to breathe these days.
Her hips shift, rubbing her pussy against my dick through my jeans. I’m tempted to snatch up her blonde hair, wrap it around my fist, and drag her closer so I can bite into her neck. To mark her, and make her cry out with pain. But somehow, I still have control of myself… I wonder how long it will last?
Her touch moves lower, finding my belt, and when she begins to slide the leather through the buckle, I have plenty of time to stop her.
I need to fucking stop her.
But she’s becoming harder and harder to resist.
When she opens the front of my jeans, my rock hard cock springs free for her. Seeing it for the first time makes her tongue trail around her lips. She slides down my body, onto her knees, those big blue eyes still fucking with me, daring me to tell her to stop.
Her warm breath touches my tip, and it makes me crave her mouth even more. I can just imagine how perfect she’d look with her cheeks hollowing as she sucked me.
But it wouldn’t be enough.
