I don’t have to tone my instincts down for her. How freeing that is.
We reach my truck and I throw the bags in the rear cab, my mouth already on top of Shea’s. Devouring it. Letting her know with deep twists of my tongue that she’s about to have a rough ride. I throw her up high between me and the side of the truck, loving her blissful sigh. She loves being manhandled. God, this girl couldn’t be more perfect for me. She’s so perfect, she’s teaching me more about whatIneed than I ever knew.
“Daddy needs that tight, warm pussy. Get your shorts down.”
“Yes, sir,” she whimpers, complying—
My phone rings.
I ignore the interruption, helping Shea tug down her waistband, my hands already getting a tight clutch of her smooth ass cheeks—
But the device rings again—and something just tells me there’s a work emergency. There is a massive remodel we’re doing not too far from here. Today, we were scheduled to demo the kitchen. Problems always seem to crop up on those days. Mold is found behind a wall or we discover the plumbing is faulty, leading to a higher cost and an uncomfortable conversation with the homeowner.
My phone rings for a third time.
“Fuck,” I grit out.
“You should answer it,” Shea murmurs, kissing my chin, cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere.”
A few minutes later, I regret taking the call.
We’re in the truck, breaking the speed limit to reach the job site, where they’ve found a crack in one of the load bearing walls.
“Should I stay in the truck?”
“No. You go where I go.”
She blushes with pleasure, her eyes sparkling as she moons at me from the passenger seat. This is right. There’s no way it can be wrong to make this special girl feel like a twenty-four-seven treasure, when that’s exactly what she is. When we reach the house, I hold her hand on the way to the front door, which is partially ajar. Knowing my men are inside, I enter, calling out for the foreman.
Paul appears in the kitchen entryway, stopping short when he sees Shea at my side, her hand held tightly in mine. Three other men crowd in behind him, as if they sense something of interest. They’re looking at Shea…well, probably a lot like how I looked at Shea when she walked into my house for the first time. How Istilllook at her.
Like she’s an angel who accidentally tumbled off a cloud and landed on earth.
And because she got warm in the car, she took off her sweatshirt, leaving her in little black bike shorts and a sports bra. Sneakers. That perky blonde ponytail.
Long story short, she looks fucking hot.
I step in front of her, blocking her from view. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring her around a bunch of horny construction workers.
“Who is this, boss?” asks the foreman, craning his neck.
I issue him a warning look. I issue one to all of them. “This is Shea and she’s none of your fucking business. Show me the cracked wall.”
Shea remains tucked into my side, one hand on my back, the other one curled in the front of my T-shirt, while Paul gives me the rundown of the problem. We stand in the kitchen now,surveying the issue, but I can feel them sneaking glances at Shea, even though she couldn’t be making it more obvious that she’s taken. Their gazes are curious. Impressed.
Lustful.
I can tell they’re trying to fight off the impulse to stare at their boss’s girlfriend, but in the end, they lose the fight. They want what is mine. All four of them. Of course they do. Her young ass in those shorts is pure pornography.
I settle a hand on the curve of her backside to proclaim ownership and she goes up on her tiptoes, snuggling closer. She must feel them staring and want to reassure me.
God almighty, I need to fuck.
And damn, that dominant streak she’s electrified to life inside of me is on fire right now, urging me to let the pack know that I’m the alpha. That she’s my mate. I can’t believe these animalistic urges are a part of me now, but they feel good. Like I’m no longer suppressing my baser instincts as a man to make people comfortable.
I’m welcoming them.
“I’m going to show Shea the upstairs.” I brush my lips against her temple. “She’s studying to be a decorator. Maybe she’ll have some ideas about the space.” I guide her out of the silent kitchen, yelling, “Get to work,” over my shoulder.
