“Not better,” I complained as his thumb found and slowly circled my hip bone.
Having never hung out before at the intersection ofJesus fucking ouchanduhn, harder, Daddy, I couldn’t tell if he was touching me like that on purpose or not. I’d love to say it didn’t affect me, but the goose bumps on my arms and chest called me a liar.
I had to bite back another whine when he removed his hand. But then he used that hand to take another swig of vodka, and my eyes greedily took in the veins on his forearms.
Again,pathetic.
Rafferty wiped his mouth with his forearm, then pushed the bottle into my hands. “Hold this.”
Without a warning or even a fucking countdown, Rafferty set about decorating my brow with four crude stitches.
Ouch, you goddamn motherfucker.
Ungh. Fuck me, Daddy.
As much as I tried to focus on the pain, the harsh line of his jaw and the slope of his nose fried my nerves and tightened my nipples, leaving them aching and diamond-hard.
Not sure what that said about me.
Nothing good.
Before you judge me, I’ll remind you that Ijustgot out of jail. I was pretty surehorny as fuckwas gonna be my default state for a hot minute.
After tying off the thread, Rafferty snipped it with a pair of nail trimmers he found in the medicine cabinet, then pulled away to look at his work.
“It’s kinda Christmassy,” he said with a crooked smile.
I checked the mirror again and, ha, Rafferty was right. The green threaded into my brow was quite the festive touch, and his stitchwork was better than I’d anticipated.
“You’re the kind of asshole who does things better when they’re drunk, aren’t you?”
“Drunk, no.” He scratched at his neatly kept beard,his eyes drifting over my nipples. “Lubricated? Maybe.”
Get the fuck outta here with“lubricated.”
“That so?”
“Mm.”
I took another drink, my lizard brain working overtime. This…whatever it was…between us made me want to push him. Poke at his soft bits. Amp up the flirting.
Yeah. Continue flirting with the guy who put you in jail, Jess. Can’t imagine how you got busted, you nitwit.
Whatever. I’m the nitwit who’s about to get us laid.
Then stop talking to yourself and take off his pants.
With a swig for courage, I reached out and buried my fingers in his thick chest hair.
Jesus, that feels like puppies and rainbows.
He sucked in a quick breath, watching me feel him up with the barest hint of a grin.
Why isn’t he stopping me?
“Even in bed?” I asked, risking life and limb by brushing my thumb over one of his fat nipples. Another sharp inhale. I bit my lip as I looked up at him in the small space. “The alcohol doesn’t make your dick go limp?”
He captured my hand in his, and I wondered briefly if he was about to break my fingers. Instead, he dragged my hand slowly down his chest and belly through all of that glorious fur…all the way over the bulge in his sweats.
