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She shivers slightly, but nods. “Okay. I will.” She casts a heated look my way beneath her long lashes. “Because Iama very bad girl, a bad girl who runs around in public in nothing but her husband’s shirt, even though he’s asked her so many times not to leave the house half-undressed.” She shrugs, making her breasts shift beneath my shirt in a way that does things to my self-control. “But I can’t help myself. I like knowing that strangers can see my nipples through the fabric of my shirt, and that if I bend over too far, someone might just see my panties.”
“Filthy little brat,” I mutter, now fully, almost painfully erect. On impulse, I lift the hem of the shirt she’s wearing and slide my hands down the front of her panties. She gasps and clings to my biceps as I slide two fingers into her sweet pussy.
“Your verywetpanties. Do you really want strangers to see that, baby?” I murmur against her temple. “I’m not kidding, Kitty. If you leave the privacy of our room like this, all wet and turned on with your nipples hard under my shirt, I’ll have no choice but to teach you a lesson. Understood?”
“Understood, Charles,” she says, a soft moan escaping her throat as I begin to rub her clit with my thumb. “But I have to go. Now. Clyde needs me. Even if that does feel really, really good.”
“Be quick.” I kiss her, deeply, thoroughly, before pulling back. “And don’t stop to talk to any creepy therapists on your way back to the room.”
“Same,” she says. “And grab more condoms while you’re in the shop. We’re going to need more. A lot more, hopefully.”
“Already on my list, sweet cheeks.” Reluctantly, I remove my hand from her panties, slapping her ass as she moves past me toward the door.
Chapter Twenty
NORA
Itake the stairs down to the lobby, my pulse racing and my nipples refusing to calm down, despite the almost too-warm heat the hotel pumps throughout the building.
I’ve worn skirts shorter than Matty’s shirt out to dinner, and I’m decently covered—especially if I cross my arms over my chest to hide my traitorous nipples as I approach the desk—but still…
I feel wicked.
Filthy.
And fabulous.
I grin, humming a little tune as I circle around and around, heading toward the ground floor. I can’t wait to get back to the room, back to sweet Clyde and Matty and all the amazing things I know he’s going to do to me as we wait for our brave girl to have her babies.
You’d like to havehisbabies…
“I think I would,” I murmur, agreeing with the frisky inner voice.
I’ve never thought too much about having kids. I’m not opposed to it, but I’ve been focused on my career and finding Mr. Right. I figured the possibility of starting a family was something I should wait to discuss with the man of my dreams. If he were dead set on it, I would take it under deeper consideration. But if he would rather be a family of two, that would be fine, as well.
Deep down, I’ve always had doubts about whether I’d be a good mother. I certainly didn’t have much of a role model, and though Gram has been a beautiful, loving force in my life, she was absolutely a grandmother, not a mom. The way she raised Aaron and me was different than what I witnessed in my friends’ relationships with their mothers. Most of my friends talked to their moms like friends or even sisters. But Gram was from a different age when children were treated like children. Even after I grew into full adulthood, there’s always been a layer of decorum and distance between us.
Well, until recently, and Gram’s sudden, decidedly indecorous interest in my sex life.
Wouldn’t she be proud of me now? If she knew what a sex fiend I’m turning out to be? Well, proud or horrified. Either way, I don’t plan on changing my evil ways. I’m going to embrace my every wicked whim…starting with proving what a filthy girl I am.
At the bottom of the stairs, I open the door just a crack, peeking out into the hallway and the lobby beyond. I can’t see the front desk from this vantage point, but the complimentary coffee area is empty, as are the seats clustered around the television blaring updates about the storm from the wall. I spy one older woman, reading in an overstuffed chair by the fireplace on the opposite side of the room, but she seems engrossed in her book.
This is it. My chance to earn my Bad Girl street cred without mortifying myself in front of a crowd of people.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I hurry through the door and down the hall, passing the windows that look into the shop on the way. I spy Matty already waiting in line to check out with the clerk and grin. Looks like my fake husband is just as eager to get back to our room as I am.
Blood singing with anticipation, I scurry on toward the front desk, wondering if Matty will pass by me as I’m talking to the clerk, and if he does, what he’ll do. Will he settle for a glare and a silent promise to do his sensual worst to me once we’re alone? Or will he start the game here at the desk, in front of the same tired-looking woman who checked us in late the night before?
I’m not sure how I feel about including others in our role-playing, but I don’t suppose it would be that big a deal. After all, I rarely spend any time in the northern part of the state. I’ll likely never see this woman again.
And even if I do, who cares? Being all-in with Matty on this sexy adventure is worth a little embarrassment down the road.
Buoyed by my inner pep talk, I ease into line behind the large man at the desk. He’s easily six and a half feet tall, if not taller, broad shouldered, thick all over, and…oddly familiar.
Even before I hear what he’s saying to the attendant, something deep in the recesses of my brain is humming, trying to put the pieces together. When I catch his wobbly voice, saying, “I know she’s here. I put a tracking device in her collar,” my skin starts to tingle with foreboding and the certainty that our sexy afternoon has just been sacked.
And that if Matty and I don’t play our cards right, we might be on our way to jail instead of O Town.
