Silas reaches over and grabs my hand, bringing it to his lips to place a kiss on the back. “I think Nana is trying to set you up with me, storm cloud.”
I snort very unladylike. That’s ridiculous. Although, I don’t mind the privacy with Silas. Maybe I can get him to recreate the storage room incident. With a wicked grin, I snatch my hand back and lift a leg. I straddle the poor man’s lap and have a seat, wrapping my arms around his neck and sinking my fingers into his thick hair. Silas’s eyes go wide and he holds his hands out to the side like he’s not sure what to do with them. I can feel Mr. Innocent hardening beneath me.
Leaning down slowly, eyes locked on each other, I kiss him. He’s timid at first, but I don’t give him a chance. I bite his lower lip and explore him with my tongue. He tastes like Silas and casserole, which shouldn’t be appealing but is. He kisses me back for two glorious minutes.
He grunts the second I rock my hips against his length. His hands grip my hips and push me away. My mouth pops off of his, none too happy to be disconnected so abruptly.
“Can’t do this here, Betsy Mae,” he whispers in a panic. Goddamn he looks cute with his hair mussed where my fists gripped the strands.
“Why not?” I whisper back.
“It’s disrespectful in your nana’s house!”
I roll my eyes. Him and his Southern manners. “Fine.” I climb off his lap and offer my hand. “Then follow me.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Silas
The secondshe plowed through my boutique headfirst like a linebacker going after a quarterback about to throw the winning touchdown in the Magnolia Bowl I should have known.
Betsy Mae will be the death of me.
Okay, that’s dramatic. She won’t be the death of me, but she certainly seems to knock the breath out of me on a regular basis.
Even knowing all this, I take her hand and follow her outside her nana’s house, too intrigued by this messy woman to deny it any longer. She gets me in the driver’s seat before climbing on my lap, her back to the steering wheel.
“We can’t out here either,” I start. Betsy puts her finger over my lips, silencing me.
“This is the beauty of having big lots. Neighbors can’t see what we do.”
I look outside. She’s not wrong. There’s a fence on this end, shielding us from the neighbors on one side. The neighbors on the other side would have to have binoculars to see what we’redoing in here, but I wouldn’t put it past someone. These old folks don’t have much to do except be the neighborhood watch.
“Live a little, Silas,” Betsy sighs. Her hands land on my chest, and when she leans in to kiss me, I let her. If she wants truck sex, I’ll be damned if I don’t give it to her.
Her hands expertly work at my buckle, getting my pants unzipped in record time. When her fingers sneak inside and wrap around my dick, my head flops back against the headrest. Goddamn, she’s a temptress. She strokes up and down, pressure just right to have me harder than the gold-lined streets of heaven.
Which is why I pull her hand off me and pin it behind her back. She rolls her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout I can’t resist. I lean in to nibble on it. “Always in such a hurry,” I mutter.
Her only response is a frustrated huff. I grin against her mouth and reach under her skirt. My fingers slide up her silky thigh until I reach her panties. She’s got on something lacy again, but she’s already soaking the material clean through. I release her wrist and hit the button to turn on my truck. Air-conditioning blasts through the vents, not exactly cold while we sit here idling, but the breeze is necessary.
“Lift up, honey.”
Betsy does as I say, which is shocking. I reach in my back pocket and take out my wallet. There’s a condom in there, on the off chance Betsy and I got a chance to recreate our first time together. Didn’t think I’d be getting to use it so quickly.
“Take me out and roll it on.”
Betsy reaches back into my shorts and does as she’s told. I think I might be developing a fetish. I bark out a command and this ornery woman actually does it. Her desperation for my cock drives me out of my mind.
While she’s busy with the condom, I tug her panties to the side, unable to see with the flap of her skirt in my way. I letme fingers explore, focusing on each area that makes her breath hitch. When I get a full-on moan out of her, I stay right there, applying constant circular movement.
“Silas, please.” Betsy drops her head to my shoulder.
I grin like a madman. Fuck, I love to hear her beg for it.
“What do you need, honey?”
She lifts her head and glares at me. She knows what I’m doing, but she’s desperate enough to give me what I want.
