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I step toward him this time, slowly reaching up to stroke his jaw and then press my lips to his. Then I pull back and nod my head at the Honda Civic hatchback.
“Get in,” I say.
He smirks. “Yes, ma’am.”
We’re an explosion of kisses and touches from the moment we make it to my house.
We stop footsteps inside to indulge each other, Rhett’s hand palming my ass and mine stuck in his hair.
Then we move upstairs and start stripping off our clothes.
It’s equal parts hot desire and playful amusement as our tongues flick together and then we’re wrestling out of our clothes.
Rhett whistles as I shimmy out of my jeans and the denim fabric slides down my thighs. He’s taken off his shirt and undone the button on his jeans, the pair hanging open enough to reveal how his happy trail disappears into his boxers.
His brown hair is tousled, and he’s got a crooked grin on his face that makes me laugh.
I strut toward him in nothing but my bra and panties, adding an extra sway to my hips.
“You like what you see?” I tease.
“You want an answer to that? C’mere.”
I yelp as he wrenches me closer, bringing me up against his chest. He grabs my hand and guides it lower to where there’s a growing bulge in the crotch of his jeans.
Heat flames my cheeks, and I bite my lip peering up into his rapt gaze.
“That clear enough for you?”
“About as clear as it gets. Now take off your pants.”
He chuckles and then kisses my jaw before obeying. He lowers his jeans and boxers, and his big fat dick springs free, gleaming with precum.
I can’t hide how pleased I am. How damn good he looks.
But I tease him some more anyway, reaching for him and wrapping my fingers around his girth for a slow stroke.
“You know,” I murmur coquettishly, “most women would reconsider sleeping with a man who just got arrested.”
“Detained,” he corrects. “There’s a difference.”
“A technicality.”
“Technicalities matter. Besides, I look good in handcuffs.”
I laugh against his throat, my fist sliding up and down his silky hard dick. He throbs in my hand, the veins that wind up his shaft alive and pulsing.
Desire floods me at a level it never has before.
That I never even had for Craig when we were young newlyweds having sex almost every moment we were alone.
But it’s more than sexual desire that I have for Rhett Dawson.
Our relationship is more than sex even if it started that way.
Real feelings have developed. Real attachments have formed.
A very real part of me wants him and only him, and I’ve realized there’s no fighting it. It’s become my truth, and regardless of how unexpected and unconventional it is, I can’t put up a front any longer.
