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But like the fighter she is, Lacy straightens her spine and glares right through me. “And what are you going to do if I don’t?”
We’re both breathing hard, my chest brushing again hers on every deep inhale. The scent of her girly lotions, soaps, and shampoos which I bought and now crowd my bathroom invades my nose and makes my cock surge once more behind my fly.
“I’m going to take you over my knee and spank some manners into you.” I brace myself for the slap across my face I very much fucking deserve. But it doesn’t come.
Instead, interest sparks behind Lacy’s eyes. She presses against me, rubs up against me once, and tilts her head back, elongating the elegant lines of her neck. “Liar,” she snarls.
I snap.
There is no other word for it. I’ve watched this woman prance around my house for three days in barely-there clothes. I’ve fed her. I’ve listened to her complain. I’ve cleaned up after her. And I’ve had a hard-on the entire fucking time. But having her sweet little body pressed against me while she challenges me is more than even I can take.
A growl vibrates between us just before I claim her mouth for my own. There is no sweet build-up to this kiss. No closed mouth chaste pecks. Hell, I wouldn’t even call this a kiss. No, this is war. And she’s just as into it as I am. Our mouths clash together, tongues wrestling for dominance. Her nails scratch down my bareback. My hands tangle in her hair, positioning her head just how I want her for the greatest access to just devour the sweet and salty taste of my brat.
And yea, she is mine. Nothing has ever felt so right as this moment. I need her closer. Need her scent all over me. Moving my hands down to her ass, which I will admit to myself is indeed perfection, I hoist her up, and her legs automatically wrap around my waist. I turn, take three steps, and press her against the wall I just painted yesterday.
“This what you want, Beauty? You want me to fuck some manners into you?” Before she can answer, I take her mouth once again. She moans and writhes against me, the junction of her thighs cradling my denim-clad cock perfectly.
Every single woman beside the one dry humping me ceases to exist. I will never again set eyes on a woman other than Lacy in anything but complete disinterest. If she isn’t five and a half feet of sass and attitude, I want nothing to do with her.
I wrap the scraps of T-shirt she’s been wearing all day around my fist and tear it from her body. “Jesus will you look at these sweet little tits.” I cup one in my palm, pressing it gently for a minute before pinching the rosy nipple between my fingers. “Figures. You’re all salt and spice. The only sweet parts of you are these perky tits. Or am I wrong? Is your pussy sweet too? Do these tits and the warm wet place between your legs balance out all the venom coursing through the rest of you?”
“Shut the fuck up and get your dick inside me. Or don’t you think you’ll be able to handle me?”
I laugh. Because, yeah, she is a lot to handle. But I am more than up for the challenge. “I’m going to give you what you want, don’t worry. But first I’m going to make you beg. Make you ask nicely to fill you with my thick cock.”
She growls. My woman growls at me.
Pivoting once again, I stomp over to the dining table, Lacy biting a line from my ear lobe down my neck as I go.
“Big words. You got anything else big for me?”
Fuck, she is going to be the death of me. I deposit her on the table, tearing the jean shorts down her legs and tossing them behind me. Yeah, I’ve seen her naked before, but having her awake and undulating beneath me is much different than that first night I watched her sleep. Her hips shift and lift on the table, seeking friction. Her hands grip the edge of the table, and her tits shake with each hard draw of her breath.
The only words I can find are too big, too serious. I want to spew lyrics about devotion and commitment. But now’s not the time.
Chapter Five
Lacy
My brain must be short-circuiting after the events of the last few days. It’s the only explanation for why I’ve let this unkempt, uneducated, unacceptable, unbelievably hot man lay me out naked on the table like I’m a buffet he’s about to gorge himself on.
Not only have I let him do it, but I’m also freaking taunting him, trying to get him to fuck me good and hard. Truth is, I want him to do it. Faster than I ever thought possible, I’ve started liking Scott. He’s nothing like any man I’ve known, in the best ways possible. I date hedge fund managers and heirs to fortunes. I date men who drone on for hours about the stock market, never noticing the glazed-over look in my eyes. I date men who have selfish one-sided sex and expect me to fake orgasms.
I’ve never once come from a sexual encounter. If I were an actress, my shelves would be lined with dozens of Oscars for the kind of show I put on during sex. When in reality, most the time, I’m laying there thinking about my social media posts for the next few weeks.
But just Scott’s eyes taking in every inch of my flesh, and, oh God, his drugging kisses, have put me teetering on the edge of a kind of pleasure only high-tech vibrators have been able to achieve. And the only thought in my head ismore, more, more.
“Look at this pretty pussy.” He strokes my soaked slit with two fingers, parting me slightly. “She’s practically pouting, she needs relief so bad.” Scott’s voice goes even rougher when he’s aroused. It’s something I’ve learned since becoming his unofficial boarder.
Every time I walk around in a towel or bend over in front of him, his voice gets this gritty quality I want to roll around in. That voice makes dirty promises, even when he’s talking about something as mundane as the plans he has for the apartment.
But he can’t know how I feel about his voice. Or his hard, muscle-packed body. Or his too-long hair which flops over his eyes in this way that makes me melt. Or how much I’m beginning to rely on his quiet strength and infinite patience. He can’t know any of that, so I hide it all behind attitude.
“Stop anthropomorphizing my vagina and get on with it.” My accompanying eye roll morphs from sassy to holy shit in a fraction of a second as his fingers sweep up and down my slit, grazing my throbbing clit.
“If you’re able to use words like anthropomorphizing right now, I’m obviously not doing my job right. Yet.”
I’m going to agree. Tell him how bored I am. How inept he is. Or some other complete and total lie, but the words die before they can even form. Because suddenly, there is only his tongue, and his lips, and his goddamn teeth doing the most erotic things between my legs. My hands fly to his hair, gripping the long, silky strands between my fingers. It might not be long enough to pull into a ponytail, but it is the perfect length to help steer his talented mouth to where I need it most. My core tightens, muscles coiling, waiting for some invisible force to snap and make me unravel.
