“I’m not diseased. I’ve only been with one man, and my father is very diligent about making sure I am…not compromised,” she said, avoiding his gaze as she shielded her breasts with her forearm. Her reaction to frank talk was another reason he avoided women he hadn’t put a down payment on.
Big Country rubbed his brow against the soft flesh of her inner thigh, hoping to stave off the tension headache threatening to crack his head open.
He sighed.
“You’re a good girl. I get that, sweetness, knew it the minute I looked into those adorable eyes.”
He slowly kissed a trail up her thigh toward the base of her womanhood. “Let me give you the pleasure you deserve,” he said. His gut clenched painfully as that worm of unrest moved through it, causing him to clench his teeth to fight off the reaction.
“Please, don’t feel as if…”
Her words stopped when he slid his finger from the base of her opening to her swollen clit. Spreading her lips farther apart, he glided two fingers inside her tight walls, stroking in and out, pressing a little deeper each time. He groaned, feeling truly distressed over the tight ride he was denying Bubba. He plunged an additional finger inside of her and sucked her clit as if it held the key to his redemption.
The woman’s high mewling cries, surging hips, trembling thighs, and gushing pussy all told him she was already on the edge of orgasm. Pushing his fingers deeper, sucking harder, cocking her thigh higher and working his hand faster, he bit back a grin and rolled his eyes as she bucked wildly and emitted some kind of high-pitched squeak-sob thing before going lax.
Had to be a record, he thought to himself as he smiled, stroking her thighs until her trembling subsided, her breathing evened. Pushing up to his knees, he gazed down at her flushed skin, glistening with sweat. With her generous, perfectly formed tits, blonde hair, and lithe body, she reminded him of a young Jeri Ryan.
She smiled up at him with her big baby blues. He’d always been a sucker for blue eyes and dimples; she didn’t possess the latter but the former had factored highly in his decision to leave the lounge with her tonight. Her eyes had promised an end to the emptiness gnawing at him but in the end, only expanded it.
“That was…was…amazing.”
“Always happy to please, darlin’.” He smiled.
She held out her arms, encouraging him to settle on top of her body and sheathe his thickness inside the warm wet center he had a hand—and a couple of fingers—in creating. No lie, he briefly contemplated accepting what she offered; but like the wrath of God, his cell phone rang, ending his indecision.
“Sorry, sugar, but I gotta take this.”
Rising to his feet, he walked to the end table beside his chair and reached for the smartest damn cell phone in creation. He looked at the display, saw it was Lynx, and grinned. It was uncanny the way his friend was always there, reaching out just before he did something that would likely get him into a world of trouble.
“Hey brother, what can I do you for?” he asked, more cheerful than the call warranted.
“Absolutely no way you can do me. Period. I’m literally shuddering in revulsion at the thought.”
“Lynx…”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, man. You need to get over to Mama’s House quick. And when I say quick, I mean…” It was obvious Lynx couldn’t think of a witty way to end the sentence. “Dude, you just need to get over here. Now.”
Lynx disconnected the call abruptly, leaving Big Country to stare at his phone in confusion and dread. Something was going down at Mama’s House and with Zeus and Sabrina in residence, there was no telling what he’d find himself walking into. Dead bodies, bloodstained walls, cleaved limbs…
He turned to the woman slowly sitting up on his expensive rug. He walked to retrieve his jeans and shirt from their pile on the floor. “Sorry, darlin’, duty calls, and I must heed her cry.”
“You have to leave?Now?” she asked, wide-eyed with disbelief and a smidge of hostility.
Another reason he only dealt with pros. No questions, no demands. You tell them you gotta go and they smiled and held the door open for you on your way out.
“Rightfuckingnow,” he said, tossing her peach-colored dress toward her. “Can’t be helped.”
He grimaced and feigned concentration as he pulled up and buttoned his jeans.
Mistakes number three, four, and five were bringing the woman to his home. He never brought women he fucked anywhere close to where he lived. Ever. This was his haven and he didn’t need some woman getting any ideas about being invited back. He didn’t need her believing she meant more to him than she actually did.
When they were both dressed, he walked her to the door and handed over her purse as she crossed the threshold. “Darlin,’ I’m sure sorry about the abrupt end to a lovely evening,” he began.
“It’s okay, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon.”
He wanted to put his head through a cinder block. Not even flames of hell licking at his balls would compel him to invite her back. Still he smiled, tipping an imaginary cowboy hat in her direction.
She laughed and did some kind of weird-assed curtsy thing before waving goodbye and trotting down the three stairs, light-footed as a doe. She got into the hybrid car she’d followed him home in and pulled out of his driveway. He didn’t know how other men did it, but he knew he’d just dodged a bullet with her graceful exit.
