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Her tits press against my back, her arms wrap around my waist, and she holds me tightly. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s scared or because she just wants to be close to me. I’m going to go with the latter.
Instead of riding to the clubhouse, I decide we need the privacy of her place. I have a feeling she’s going to demand answers from me. Although she may not get them all, I don’t want the club involved. Those guys gossip too fucking much.
I park on the street in front of her place. She climbs off my bike, but I can tell she’s good and pissed off. She can be that way, that’s fine. It’ll just be a more intense fuck. Following behind her, I watch her ass as she climbs the stairs, then she flings open the door and walks inside, leaving it open for me.
Stepping inside, I close and lock the door behind me. She’s in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water. I watch as she twists the lid off, then drinks half the contents before she turns to me, her eyes narrowed.
Standing on the other side of the kitchen bar, I smirk before she takes a step toward me and slams the water down on the counter.
“Where the hell have you been?” she demands.
She surely sounds like a nagging wife, but at the same time, I can’t even be angry with her because I’ve totally fucking disappeared. I reach across the bar and take her hand in mine, lacing my fingers with hers before I speak.
“I had a lot of shit going down with the club, with work. I’m through almost half of it.”
“Is this excuse something that’s worked in the past?” she asks, then she shakes her head and speaks again. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. But I do want you to know that it won’t work with me.”
My lips twitch into a small smile. “Yeah?” I ask. “Then no excuses?”
She shakes her head. “No excuses. And I’m not sorry, but it doesn’t take much time or effort to send a text. You could have done at least that.”
I walk around the bar and move toward her. She turns to face me, tilting her head backward to look up at me. I cup her cheek as I look into those green eyes of hers. She fucking captivates me. I didn’t think a woman could own me with a single look, but she can, and she does.
“I could have, sweetness.”
I keep my voice low, even sugary sweet, when I speak to her. She needs that. I’ve hurt her like I knew without a doubt I would. It just happened a little sooner than I would have imagined.
I slide my thumb across her bottom lip as I look into her eyes, unable to break the contact. I fucking love the way she looks up at me. I dip my chin slightly, my gaze focused on hers and lean forward. I want to kiss her, but it’s not the time… at least not yet.
I slide my nose along hers before my lips almost touch her own. I don’t touch my mouth to hers. She hasn’t earned that yet. Instead, I back away slightly with a small smile on my lips.
“Tell me all of the things I did wrong, but do it naked,” I announce as I take a step backward.
I expect her to balk at my words, but she doesn’t. Instead, she takes a step backward and strips. I watch her with hungry eyes as she takes everything off, even those little sexy panties she wears.
Taking my cut off, I place it on the counter, then reach behind me to grip the back of my shirt before I pull it over my head. Then I kick off my boots and discard my jeans. When I’m standing in just my boxer briefs, I lift my gaze to hers and wink.
Sliding my thumbs into the waistband of my boxers, I strip them off and step out of them before I toss them to the side. I don’t care where they land. All I care about is the way Shawn is looking at me—looking at my cock.
I reach for her waist, pick her up, and turn slightly to place her ass on the countertop. “Spread your legs,” I demand.
Her eyes narrow, but she does what I’ve asked. Sliding my tongue across my bottom lip, I shift my gaze to her pink cunt. “Touch yourself while you tell me all the things I did wrong,” I murmur.
She gasps before she speaks. “What?” she asks. “Are you serious?”
“Dead fucking serious,” I state.
I stand, naked as the day I was born, in her kitchen. She wrestles with the fact that I want her to touch herself in her kitchen, on the counter. She’s going to do it for me. It’s just taking her a few minutes to get used to the idea.
When her arm moves, and then her fingers, as they tremble down her belly and between her legs, I don’t move, completely enthralled. I watch as she sighs, her eyes closing when her fingers swirl her clit.
I lick my lips. I can’t take my eyes off her cunt. It’s pink and wet. Fucking beautiful.
“You ignore me for a week, and then you show up to the farmers’ market and act like you’re”—she pauses her speech to moan—“my man. Like you give a shit,” she says as she lifts her hips to meet her fingers.
I reach down between my own legs, squeezing my cock. I’m hard as fuck, my balls aching and my cock wanting nothing more than to be inside of her.
“I give a shit, sweetness,” I rasp. “More than you could know.”
