“I don’t have to be in a relationship to fuck. Besides, my little bullet-shaped sidekick gives me more satisfaction than a man ever could. The best thing is, I don’t have to hold his hand afterward and praise him for a job well done. I simply shove him to the back of my drawer, and there he remains until his services are needed again. No fuss, no muss.”
Our eyes lock and hold for a long tension-filled moment, in which I try my best not to imagine her writhing on her bed, clenching the rumpled bedsheets in a tight fist while she presses her battery-operated friend to her little clit. The vivid scene plays in my head with such startling clarity that it’s almost like it’s happening in real time. In my mind’s eye, her back arches as she squeezes her eyes shut with a pleasure-filled expression on her angelic face. She throws her head back, her thick curls spread out on the pillow around her like a fiery halo. The rich color perfectly matches theslight flush spreading over her chest and cheeks. Her plump lips form a perfect O as she releases a whimpering sound that leaves me trembling with the need to touch.
Fuck, it’s been too long. The mere fantasy of her has my dick throbbing, and I’m about to come in my pants like some horny, unrestrained teenager. I clear my throat and turn away, ignoring her knowing chuckle. Blowing out a shaky breath, I lift the nail gun and resume my task while I attempt to get myself back under control. What I need is a nice, long jerk-off session in the shower. One that will hopefully help rid me of this incessant need that’s been plaguing me since I first laid eyes on the infuriating woman, who is currently smirking at me like she’s just won her first sparring match. The problem is, the smug look on her face only makes me want to shove her to her knees and put her in her place, which does absolutely nothing to discourage my eager dick.
I need to stop thinking of her that way. Charlie and I are a disaster waiting to happen. She’s a ballbuster. A man-hater who prefers sex with inanimate objects to actual human connection.That’s because she’s never had a real man between her creamy thighs.
Shut up, I tell the devil on my shoulder, beating him back into submission by sheer force of will. Goddamn it, I’ve always loved a challenge, and Tink throwing it in my face that no man has ever managed to give her the same toe-curling pleasure she supposedlygets from her little device, is pretty much equivalent to waving a red flag at an angry bull.
I haven’t had sex in over two years. An unfortunate fact my raging hard-on seems to be painfully aware of. He’s practically begging me to take mercy on us, straining against the zipper of my jeans in his desperation to bury himself in her tight little pussy.
Jesus Christ, Cole, get your shit together, I silently reprimand.
She’s just a girl.
We don’t talk again until the last piece of siding is firmly attached to the outside wall. By the time I’m done helping Charlie get packed up, I’ve managed to convince myself that I’m not even that attracted to her. So, when she extends an invite to dinner, offering me a home-cooked meal as a thank you for my continued assistance, I happily accept.
“Anything I can bring?”
“Just your sparkling personality,” she says, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Dinner will be ready at six. Don’t be late.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. But you'd better have cold beer and hard liquor on hand. Something tells me I’ll need a couple of stiff ones to get through an entire evening with you.”
Charlie’s calculating smile grows impossibly wide. “Don’t worry, Champ. I have just the thing for you,” she tells me before she gives me a mock salute and disappears down the trail.
I remain rooted to the spot, shaking my head with regret. Knowing I’ll never get to dig my fingers into that perfect, round ass of hers is disappointing, to say the least. Then I remember the reason for my self-imposed celibacy.
Forcing myself to turn away, I head in the opposite direction, putting some much-needed distance between us. I don’t deserve to feel good, and neither does my cock.
ten
Cole
Iarrive at the main building with a few minutes to spare. Unsure where the entrance to her private quarters is located, I head into the front office, where I find Tink behind the reception desk. She holds up a finger without sparing me a glance and continues her assault on the keyboard while I busy myself inspecting the various pictures on the walls. When the clicking sound finally ceases, I turn to face her.
“Just had to send this order off so I can give you my full attention. Dinner is already in the oven and should be done shortly. I hope you like Italian. My nonna left me her recipe for this killer lasagna she used to make, and I swear it’s the best damn thing you’ll ever taste.”
“That’s a bold statement, considering I’m a federal agent who’s traveled all over the world, including Italy.”
“Nonna Lucia was as authentic as they come,” she states, seemingly unbothered by me questioning her cooking abilities. Like she knows I’ll find out the truth soon enough and is already looking forward to me eating my words.
Her boasting should be off-putting, but oddly enough, I’m beginning to find her no-nonsense attitude endearing.
“Well, let’s get you that drink you seem to be needing so badly to get through an evening in my company, shall we?” Her eyes flash with mischief, and she shoots me a playful wink before she disappears through the open doorway behind the desk, leaving me no choice but to follow. Of fucking course her apartment is located on the second story. I do my best to keep my gaze fixed somewhere between her shoulder blades as we ascend the stairs. Something I should be awarded some type of medal for, considering it takes a gargantuan effort.
Once we arrive at the top, Charlie pushes the unlocked door open and swings an arm out to grant me entrance to her domain. It takes less than two seconds for her show horse to come barreling toward me. I’m prepared this time, and even though he hits the brakes a little too late and almost takes me out at the knees, I manage to stay upright.
I give him a good scratch behind the ears, and Charlie produces a couple of treats before she tells him to go lie on his bed beside the L-shaped sofa. I’m surprised when he does so with very little grumbling. Shutting the door behind me, I take in my surroundings. At first glance, her place doesn’t look like much, but I have to admit it’s cozy. It looks lived in, like a home should, complete with throw blankets, decorative pillows, and colorful curtains. Personal knick-knacks and pictures adorn a variety of surfaces, giving me insight into the person behind the tough exterior. Her place is basically the complete opposite of my bachelor pad, which is devoid of anything not considered a bare necessity.
I push past her and into the open space that combines the living room, dining area, and kitchen. A narrow hallway on the opposite side of the entrance leads to what I can only assume would be the main bedroom and bathroom. Overall, her place appears simple but clean, and it smells fucking divine. The mouthwatering scent of baked cheese and tomato sauce permeates the air, and, on cue, my stomach gives a loud rumble, reminding me I haven’t eaten since noon. Charlie gives me a knowing look and crosses the room, heading straight to the fridge to pull out a couple of cold beers.
“You want a glass with that?” she asks, twisting the top off and bringing the bottle to her full lips for a generous sip.
Making my way over to her, I lean my hip against the counter and shake my head no. It feels strange to be in her space. In any woman’s space, really. About to share a home-cooked meal and enjoying a drink after a day of working side by side. I’m not sure what the expectation is here. Is she simply thanking me for helping her out, or is she hoping this leads to something entirely different?
We linger there, each of us sipping our beers to keep our hands and mouths busy, and I barely hold back my sigh of relief when the oven timer goes off. Talk about a saved by the bell moment.
Charlie sticks her hands into a pair of yellow mitts and pulls a perfectly browned lasagna out of the oven before she serves us each a generous piece. She cuts the garlic bread into thick slices, tosses the garden salad one last time, then nods for me to help carry everything to the small dining table.
