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“Mr. Vernon,” he says with a quirk of his lips and another long pull at the glass that almost empties it.
“Very funny,” I huff. I am an adult. I don’t need him acting like I’m a child. I get enough of that at home. “What is your first name?”
“I work for your family. You should really call me Mr. Vernon.”
“How about I call you Vernie Baby if you don’t give me your real name,” I snap back.
He growls under his breath and it rumbles up out of his big, barrel chest, startling me.
“It’s Sam.”
“Sam,” I say breathlessly. I like how it sounds. I think he does too because he fidgets in his seat and his lean, tanned cheeks flush all the way up to his light brown hair streaked with silver and blond.
“You sure go on back in.” He hands me back the empty glass. “I appreciate the drink but I’m pretty sure your daddy wouldn’t want you out here talking to me.”
I scoff and then go to step out on the curb. But I miss and fall down, crying out when my knee bangs the curb painfully.
He shoots out of the other side and grabs me up in his arms. I’m breathless and achy in all those funny places I’ve only read about in romance books. The really trashy kind with aching and throbbing. My eyes lock on his wide silver gaze and I’m trapped in it like a bug in amber, sucked in and wallowing in it.
He gulps and then clears his throat. “Are you alright?” He sets me on my feet and then his fingers probe at my knee where it’s swelling up already. I suck in a startled breath when his fingers touch my bare skin. It’s like razor wire scraping along raw nerves. I jump and he looks up at me from the ground and it’s like we’re the only two people left in the world. His big, calloused fingers stop pushing and wrap around my whole knee. He’s so big that even with my extra pounds, I don’t feel big. I feel tiny and delicate and burning with desire. Lust rears its head up and the tingles in my skin flare up until it’s like a four-alarm fire down there.
His silver gaze goes molten with desire and I hold my breath, hoping that he reaches that hand higher, higher. Until he’s brushing the edge of my white cotton panties, his harsh fingers slipping inside the elastic hem and pushing inside my aching core.
And just like that the spell is broken and he stands up, looking away and huffing. “It looks alright but you should really go in and put your feet up. Maybe put an ice pack on it to keep the swelling and bruising down.” Then he turns back to his truck and walks around it. I wait until he gets back inside and then duck my head inside the door. I can smell him in the big cab of that truck and my panties almost incinerate on the spot. It’s like since he touched me, I can’t drag myself out of the lustful haze I fell into.
“My name is Liliana. But you can call me Lily.” And then I turn and grab the glasses that at least bounced on the glass, not breaking. Then I limp back to the front door and step inside, setting them down on the console table by the door before I stand in the doorway, watching him again and wanting to go back out there more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. But instead, I shut the door and lean against it, emotions swelling up in me that I have no idea what to do with. Like rushing water overtaking a town, it’s too much. I grab the glasses and limp back to the kitchen to let Bernice fuss over me.
And try to forget that burst of heat that still has me aching and wet.
CHAPTER3
Sam.
“You can call me Lily.”
Four simple words but I think they changed my life. I know that when I get home tonight I’m gonna take a hot shower and I’m gonna jerk off to the sound of her pretty voice hollering my name with her name blasting off my lips in a shout as I lose myself in the desire heating me up like sealer ready to put down.
I feel like I’m on fire and I know I saw a matching hunger in her gaze. Shy, innocent and yet full of lust. Her dark blue gaze was full of so much desire that I wanted to bathe in it. Wanted to wallow in it and spread it all over me.
She’s too fucking young, you asshole!
I know that, dickhead!
I shake those thoughts out of my head wondering how one tiny girl could make me argue with myself like a lunatic. I could smell her in the truck. Soft, enticing. Like baby powder and cinnamon. I’ve never smelled anything like it. It smelled like warm nights and fires to curl up in front of with a girl even hotter than the fire itself.
A girl like that.
But she’s too young and I know it. I should be shot thinking the thoughts I’m thinking.
But I’m going to hell because I can’t make myself stop. I watch the guys with one part of my brain while the lizard part of it can’t push dirty thoughts out of it.
She’s got the prettiest pink lips. They’re full and have a perfect little cupid bow at the top. The bottom lip has a little divot in it right in the middle. I want to grab it with my teeth and pull at it. Then suck it inside my lips, nibbling it.
Then I want to watch her pretty eyes open wide when I strip down to nothing and she sees how much I want her. Sees my steel-hard dick reaching for her.
I want her to drop to her knees, wearing nothing but a pair of plain white knee-highs, her wide thighs holding her hands as she lets me slip my dick in and out of that plush, warm mouth, fucking her face while she groans and tears fall down her pale cheeks.
I groan and drag myself back, my hand rubbing my face, dragging at it like I can erase the images. Like erasers rubbing out chalk on a blackboard.
