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“Navy?” Rigger calls out. He’s probably been knocking for five minutes, but I didn’t hear because I was too busy talking to myself.
“Just a sec!” I shout through the door.
I got this. And even if I don’t, I have Rigger, sex or not.
Opening the bathroom door, I find Rigger crouched in front of my frogs, giving them a couple of brine shrimps.
“You’re making them fat,” I scold him.
“It’s just a little treat.”
“Uh-huh.” I fold my arms and lean against the wall. No one can tell me there’s anything more adorable than a big, strong biker sneaking my dwarf frog treats. My chest warms, and a calm settles over me. This is the man who can give me back what’s been taken; I just know it.
He stands to his full height. “You ready?”
I nod. “Where are we going?”
“The Kitchen.” He grins.
“Really?” Of all the rooms, I didn’t really consider that one. I thought he’d jump to The Office to boss me around.
“Yup.” He takes my hand. “Let’s go.”
The way this man drags me down the hall and to the west end of the property makes me giggle and brings a playfulness to the moment I desperately need. Like mischievous teenagers about to do something wrong, we look up and down the halls before walking into The Kitchen.
I’ve been in here before, but now that I know what will happen, I look at it differently. The light gray cabinets are in an L-shape in the far corner, capped with solid white countertops. The island matches, a good size and height for plenty of activities. A functioning stove, dishwasher, fridge, and sink are perfect for dirty housewife fantasies.
The kitchen table sits opposite, with a strong wooden base painted black, a gray and white marble top, and gray chairs. In the center of the table is a bowl full of phallic-shaped vegetables. I wonder if they’re real and if the girls really use them because that eggplant looks painful.
On the walls are artistically sexual paintings of fruit. I take in one with a strawberry dripping white cream, a halved grapefruit with two fingers entering the center of it, and a juicy papaya glistening with moisture.
Rigger turns toward me, and my heart races at the vulnerable look on his face. “What do you think?”
“I think I want you to kiss me.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
RIGGER
I’m not scared of anything. I made peace with who I am and what my life would be like a long time ago because we have enemies, a lot of them. Jealousy and a desire to be top dog put us at risk daily. . . Yet standing in front of the most beautiful and broken girl I’ve ever known, I’m fucking terrified.
What if I do something wrong?
What if I’m too rough?
What if I don’t pick up on her cues?
I don’t want to fuck this up, but even more than that, I don’t want to fuckherup after what she’s been through.
“I think I want you to kiss me,” she says with a smile that could bring a man to his fucking knees. Surprisingly, I hold strong and do exactly what she asks for.
Before my lips reach hers, I grip the back of her legs, lifting her into my arms and forcing her to wrap her arms around my neck. Her fingers immediately rake up and down the back of my head, nearly making me purr like a fucking cat.
Only then do I kiss her, letting every ounce of my desire pour into her.
Palming her ass that’s grown juicy thanks to me force-feeding her and her newly found addiction to the gym, I walk us over to the island and set her down, pinning her in place with my hips.
Her cunt is flush with my hardening cock that’s getting way too ahead of itself. I’ve already decided I’m not fucking Navy tonight. We’ll play, and I’ll make her come so hard she sees stars, but if I’m going to do this right, we need to go slow.
