Page 27 of Shark’s Pride

“Mmmm. Much better,” I hummed. I massaged firm strokes from the base of her spine up to her shoulders and back again, rocking her entire body with mine while doing so.

“Oh God, Bas. That feels so good.” She moaned again after I repeated the motion a few times.

“Yeah, it does.” I shifted my weight off her body. It was only temporary. The pants had to go before I drilled through them to get to her heat.

“Hey! Where are you going?” She lifted her head in protest when my motion made the bed dip.

“Just taking my pants off, girl.” I slid the track pants off and remounted her the exact way I had been before. The only thing separating our skin now was the cool cotton of the flat sheet. I leaned closer, fitting my mouth to her ear. After a few kisses around the sensitive area, I murmured, “Something seems to have come up that needs to be addressed.” I illustrated the problem by grinding my erection into the seam of her ass.

“Oh. Ooohhh.” Her first sigh was nervous. Her second was breathier…sexier. As she relaxed more, allowing my shaft to press against her entirely, we exhaled together.

“Christ. Even that feels good.”

The abject astonishment in her voice had me chuckling. “Even?” I teased, ending it with an extended growl. “Oh, baby. I have so many things to teach you.” And there was no better time than now. To prove the point, I repeated the motion several more times, keeping up the sensual treatment until my gorgeous little fox was rolling her hips beneath me…with me. As thoroughly as I wanted this tidal wave to build and grow, I cut it short by gently pinching her hip. “Ssshhh, baby. Be still. Let me play with you for a while. Let me make you feel good.”

Couldn’t say I didn’t expect her petulant mewl. “Bas. I already feel good. Can’t we— I mean, won’t you—”

So damn cute. So innocent. She still wasn’t comfortable with her raw desire, let alone expressing it. Asking to have her needs met, much less knowing what all of them were, was a foreign concept to my sugar-and-spice girl. We’d get there though—and it was a journey I was very much looking forward to.

“Spread your legs for me.”

As she obeyed my command, the heady scent her arousal filled the air—and jacked all my senses. Hell, yes. So damn good. I inhaled so deeply, I was temporarily dizzy. Until—

Ding dong. Ding-ding dong.

“What in the actual fuck?” I dropped my head between my shoulder blades as the question left my tight lips.

I sent out a silent prayer to Mother Nature for lightning to strike whoever was at my front door, apparently determined to break the goddamned doorbell. Pop-up thunderstorms were a thing in SoCal, right?

Ding dong. Ding-ding dong.

“Fuck!”

As I rolled off Abbigail, I glared at the clock on the nightstand. It wasn’t ridiculously early, but I wasn’t expecting anyone either.

Ding dong. Ding-ding dong.

“Bas?” Abbi raised her head all the way. Her hair was a magnificent scarlet tumbleweed around her face.

“I’ll be right back. Do not move. I swear, if it’s those devil’s disciples selling wrapping paper again…” I let the sentence trail off as I hopped from foot to foot, trying to put my pants on. “But if they want to talk grade-school fundraisers, I’m sure this boner will be a quick conversation killer.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“I said don’t move.”

My menacing glare was losing its mojo with this one, because she shot me a censuring side-eye, rolled off the bed, and searched for something to put on.

“I said stay.” I gave her a glare through squinted eyes. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Ding dong. Ding-ding dong.

She giggled and stabbed a finger toward the tent in my pants. “You cannot answer the door and talk to anyone—especially children—like that!” She swiped my T-shirt and her panties off the ground and hopped into them as we covered the length of the hallway.

Ding dong. Ding-ding dong.

“I’m coming! Settle down!” My voice bounced off the soaring walls and ceiling as I descended the stairway and reached the foyer floor.

Swinging the front door open in a seething bluster, I huffed, “Bloodthirsty little shits, aren’t y…”