“What are you looking for?” He asks.
Something to make you go away.“Just exploring. Waiting for something to spark my attention or distract me.”Wrong choice of words Charlotte.Mentally I’m smacking myself for that one.
“I mean I could distract you,” He bluntly puts it.
And the thought of his touch makes my spine cover in goosebumps. A dryness hits my throat, no sound coming out.
“Shouldn’t you be watching over the kids?” I say with trouble.
I keep looking for a book not looking in his direction. If I don’t look at him, then he can’t make me even more flustered or at a loss for words.
He leans down towards my ear, “I have my eye on something.”
“Like Hades with a pomegranate.” I mutter.
His hands graze my sides. “Temptation.” The way he says it is like a hungry animal waiting for a taste.
A hungry wolf.
“You think an ounce of itching powder will stop me? Scared to see what happens when you give in?”And there’s the temptation.
I straighten up. My back pressing against the stack. I grab a book holding it close to my chest. Creating a barrier.
Keola braces his arms on the shelf, trapping me, nowhere to go.
“You are always looking after everyone, caring for them. But who’s taking care of Charlotte?” He inches closer.
“I can take care of myself.” I softly let out, every word struggling to come to surface.
“And at night. What do you think about?” He asks. He brushes a piece of hair behind my ear, taking it out of my face. My eyes watching his every movement. His long sleeve inching up, showing tribal ink. The thick lines and curves.
“Charlotte, what do you think about at night?” He asks again. “When you reach down your shorts, and trace your fingers along your pussy, reaching to that spot where you ache, what are you thinking?” My face blushes. My heart races.
He inches closer, his lips full softly pressing against my jawline. Tinglingness lingers as to trace my bones, my skin. I let out a deep sigh, a sense of lust.
I move my head towards him, finding his dark eyes become intoxicated with every line on my face.
The curl of his smile, I follow down that railroad to hell, I give in.
I lean forward capturing his lips onto mine. My arms holding the damn book in my hands, I struggle to put it back on the shelf to grab him by his cut and claim this passion.
His chest growls as he yanks the book free and places it on top of the shelf above me. A hint of annoyance but demanding.
His lips lay claim because at this moment, I am letting go. Giving into every ounce of desire that has been built up, breaking the wall of tension.
Letting someone take care of me.
He has been inches away from me and I was missing out.
No more.
He jerks away, turning my head, pressing those lips against my neck, trailing alongside it. My hands reach his head, the feeling like a weight being lifted. He grabs my wrists and yanks them behind me, restricting me.
“Not yet. You’ll get a turn. But I’m going to take my time.” He says. I whimper. He just smiles. Asshole just smiles.
“I can get the handcuffs” he bluntly says. My eyes widened. Now we’re talking. “Little angel likes that idea. Noted.” His lips return to me. Taking every ounce of control out of me. A ripple of pleasure starts to spread as his other hand slips through my pants, at the edge of my underwear. He trails his fingers above my pussy, feeling his callus fingertips inch closer towards my aching clit.
A simple brush has me in need, ready to combust.
