Don’t want any grime touching her.
I hand her my phone and bring up my notes app. “Help a guy out and take notes, yeah?” By no means is she my secretary. I can easily use the dictation app to make a laundry list of what the fuck needs fixing and replacing, but I have different intentions for handing over my phone to her.
Text messages have tone, and I knew she was jealous when she texted about whether I was alone when I slept at my nightclub, too happy to go home to an empty house. Staying inside the walls of Crimson was like cocooning myself in the memories of Ever, of us, and I didn’t want the experience to end by stepping inside my bare-bones place.
She looks from the phone to me. “Are you sure you want me to have access to your contacts list? I could delete any name that is a woman’s.”
“I already did, sweetness.”
Her beautiful eyes widen. Unable to resist the pull between us, I drop a kiss between them. Her eyes cross, and she is sexy as fuck. “Will you do that with your eyes when I fuck you for the first time?” I say in a low voice.
Her eyes widen more before crossing.
I lean into her space until all she sees is me. “Do that again and I’ll take you here and now with an audience. Now take the phone.” I hold the phone between us.
“What if I don’t?”
I drop my attention to her luscious mouth before I raise a brow and look over my shoulder for show. “You, me, this counter here with your ass up, and the guys watching as I eat you up.”
Her face turns a pretty shade of pink.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
I wouldn’t. I don’t share, and that includes an audience, but Ever doesn’t know that. I cage her in with my arms alongside her hips. “Try me.”
Her throat visibly moves, and she swallows down her nervousness. Her gaze darts from the guys to me. I cock my scarred brow and wait. I’m patient. I have to be.
Military service wasn’t one battle after another. There was downtime, and then there was fucking waiting with a sledgehammer as your heartbeats, bile coating your throat from fear, and your thoughts racing with all sorts of fucked-up scenarios on how the day would play out—with me going home in a casket or seeing my friends get blown up.
Having patience also makes me excellent at playing chicken. I’ve learned well during my time downrange. I won’t be taken down by a five-foot-five college coed with an angelic face and sad eyes.
She removes my cell from my hand and clutches it to her chest. I swipe my finger along her bottom lip. “Good girl.” My voice is deep and commanding.
I’m preparing her for my dominance in the bedroom. Or inside my truck. Or on my motorcycle. I’d fist her hair in one hand and guide her mouth over my cock with the other, all while she keeps her hands behind her back.
There’d be no touching me unless I gave her permission. Dominance is about submission, and submission is the key to her pleasure and mine.
Ever trembles from my caress and my praise. My cock stiffens. I wet my bottom lip. She stares. I’m deep in my head, of me and her in my bed, her bed, and inside my lifted truck.
I had ten vehicles before I sold eight after meeting Ever, and I’ll have ten again with her input. Then we’ll christen every one of them with our lovemaking.
She’ll ride my cock, tits bouncing, as I put pressure on her throat with my hand until she breaks apart and slicks me from head to base with her arousal.
Fuck. Fuck.
Slate’s voice slices through my desire and yanks me out of my fantasy.
“Drop the hard-on for your girl and come look at this here. We have a problem.”
I blink and turn to check out this “problem” we’re having, but not before I give Ever a love tap on her outer thigh and tell her to stay put.
She murmurs a soft, “Okay.” Her yielding, gentle side is the flip side of the one where she’s giving me nothing but attitude. I like both sides of her. They fit mine perfectly. She’ll yield to my dominance. I’ll give her a safe space to unleash her attitude. But give me too much of it and I’ll pound it out of her with my thick rod inside her wet, tight pussy.
Fucking fighting off a cockstand, I walk over to where the boys are gawking at the ceiling and look up. The paint on the ceiling is bulging.
Midnight states the obvious. “Water damage.”
Dare runs up the stairs and returns without breaking a sweat. “Quick looksie in the bathroom’s telling me water overflowed from the tub and was left standing on the linoleum for who the fuck knows how long.”
