My curiosity gets the better of me. “Why’d you need these for?”
Her lips curl in a smile. “Liz,” she says simply.
“Liz’s dad is Chief. She doesn’t need PBA cards.”
Sophie raises her brow at me. “We’ll need them at some point in time, you’ll see.”
I shake my head and reach for the door handle, but she holds a hand out to halt me.
“One second there, Gladiator.” I frown at her monicker, but she continues. “I agreed to help you because I see something between you two that I’ve never seen with her before. I’ve never experienced it, and God knows neither has Liz, but I see it in her parents, I saw it in mine. But like any decent lawyer, I know better than placing my faith in an absolute outcome, so you need to know this. Liz was the water girl for the football team when we were in high school. All of those guys have just gotten bigger, and they still mostly live within a fifty mile radius. They loved—no, love her. Not to mention your comrades on the police squad. And then we have her two gigantic cousins, both of whom play college football and her equally two gigantic brothers who don’t. Everyone loves Liz, that’s just the way it’s always been. Even your grandmother, although she pretends like she doesn’t. If that girl feels pain in one single cell of her body because you hurt her, even if it’s a dead cell of hair, the football team, police squad, her male family members and probably female too, and community will seem like a pre-school fight compared to what I will do to you.”
I’m stunned, shocked, and a little scared by this tiny girl’s speech, but I’m also glad as fuck Liz has someone like this on her side. She may not ever need it, but it’s no small amount of comfort that she’s got it.
Especially with her big mouth and penchant for trouble.
I open my mouth to respond, but Sophie gives me a bright smile and settles her purse strap over her shoulder. “I’m staying over at my mom’s tonight. Liz has Sunday brunch with her family at eleven. They usually pick her up here.”
I nod, appreciative of both the time she’s given us and the heads-up.
“I’ll get out of your way now. Just a warning, she’s going to flip out. Big time. Nice flowers, by the way.” With that, she gives me a little wave goodbye and disappears down the stairs.
She only pulled the door behind her, she didn’t lock it, so it opens easily when I turn the knob. Similar to my apartment in the complex, there’s a short entryway with high ceilings and an entry into the main living space. Through the archway, I find an enormous living room with a small kitchen off to the side, separated only by a short granite counter and some bar stools. Almost every wall has built-in bookshelves, stuffed to the brim, punctuated only by large windows with sheer curtains. The only wall without shelves has an inviting fireplace with a TV set on top of the mantle.
I recognize the movie playing because it’s one of Gram’s favorites, Roman Holiday with Audrey Hepburn. Something warms in my chest at the thought of Liz watching the movie too. The only sign I see of her in the apartment is the pair feet in fluffy bedroom slippers perched on the arm of the overstuffed sofa facing the TV.
“Sophie, do you feel like opening a bottle of red or white? Or should we go out? I don’t really feel like going out again though especially considering how poorly Operation Forget Mark went last night.”
I can’t help the shit-eating grin that spreads across my face.
Operation Forget Mark?
“Lucky for you I brought both.”
There’s about a thirty second pause, and then her slippered feet disappear while her head simultaneously pops up from the couch. Her gemstone blue eyes widen, and her lips part in surprise.
I’m tempted to bite the plump pink one on the bottom.
Forget dinner. I want to feast on her.
“What the fuck?”
I wince when she shrieks, but I’m still encouraged by the fact that she felt the need to label an operation after ‘forgetting me.’
She’s looking at me like she wants to jump my ass—in a good and bad way. I can clearly see her nipples hardening into tiny little points. Her hair is pulled up in messy ponytail and even though she’s covered from her neck down, the material of her top is stretched tight across tits that make my mouth go dry. My cock twitches, but my other head is telling me that I need to meet this girl tit for tat. She’s used to being the one running game. The longer I can keep her off kilter, the better.
I glance at my watch. “It’s six fifty-eight. I told you to be ready at seven although, I have to say, didn’t expect you to be dressed for bed but I’m more than happy to work with that.”
Her chest rises and falls rapidly with each breath she takes. “I never told you I was coming out with you.”
“Ahhhh Princess, interesting choice of words but you don’t have to worry. You knew I’d be here, and I’m more than happy to help you come.”
She blushes, but like the worthy contender she is, she rises to her feet. “Stop twisting my words goddamnit!” I notice she’s got little cherries sprinkled all over the white material that hugs her curves.
Fuck me.
Liz
The heat blazing from his eyes is scorching. “How about I twist your hot little body instead? So you’ll be able to see my eyes while I push into you from behind?”
His words, crude and wicked, send a rush of heat between my thighs. I’m instantly transported to the night before where he had me pressed against freaking wood paneling, desperate for release.
I hate wood paneling.
My attempt to distract myself with wall types is futile. Obviously, I need to revisit my strategy.
“I can’t believe you’re talking to me like this. It’s unbearably rude,” I tell him, inwardly cursing the tell-tale quiver in my voice.
“Unbearably rude, huh? Now you sound like my grandma.”
Now that is unbearable. I can’t believe his gall. Intent on putting him in his place, I march over to him — forgetting that I’m in my pajamas, that I don’t have a bra on, and that my pedicure is two and a half weeks old.
I don’t dwell on the degenerative state of my toes. Instead, I stalk over to where he is so I can properly deliver a piece of my mind to him. As I draw near, I get a whiff of his addicting scent. It’s woodsy and clean. His eyes are warm and bright, and his lips tilt up in a half smile that’s both amused and in control. Just as I point my index finger out to push into his chest, I realize my mistake.
I’ve foolishly compromised my position by eliminating the physical distance between us. My hormones are dancing all over each other like whores in a brothel, and I know myself well enough to know that I’m thisclose to losing my resolve.
Until the other smell hits me.
“Wait, is that penne alla vodka from Vittorio’s? Do I smell shrimp fettuccine alfredo? And fresh garlic knots?”
He nods, smirking.
And rightfully so because I’m officially a puddle of worthless goo. Two of life’s most important necessities—food and sex. Mark’s unique scent alone is a challenge to resist, but it’s a full on delicious assault now that the food—no, this food is here too.
Speechlessly, I stare at him. He’s quiet too, so the only sound is my movie playing in the background.
My stomach picks that precise moment to growl loudly.
Masculine laughter washes over me while my face heats. “I’m hungry,” I say defensively.
“You can always count on me for good timing.” He winks at me, causing the nerves in the center of my body to flutter wildly. I could give the butterfly exhibit at the museum a run for its money, the way he makes me feel inside.
He moves around my space easily, pulling containers out of white paper bags. I have to wonder if he’s cased my apartment before when he goes to the right cupboard and drawer and pulls out glasses and the wine screw. I frown at the thought, but I also know I’m upset that I’ve caved so easily. My mind is traveling in every which direction as I try to make sense of how I’m feeling. My brain tel
ls me to pull away, but my heart seems to be attached to a magnet that only strengthens its pull towards him. I frown harder, disgusted at my sappy metaphor when he stops suddenly.
“Shit.” He whirls around and my heart starts to thump harder as he stalks in my direction. My eyes wander appreciatively over his form. He’s dressed once more in casual dark jeans but this time his t-shirt is black. Another V-neck, the sleeves of which happen to hug muscled shoulders and biceps. The tip of my tongue swipes across my upper lip, he’s that mouthwatering.
He stops short of me by a few feet and groans. “Christ, please don’t fucking do that.”
“Do what?” At this point, I’ve got it all worked out in my head, and if I torture him the way that he’s tortured me…
Well, no one will find me complaining.
We’ll eat and perhaps slake our appetites in a different way, and then it will be over. I’ll have worked him out of my system, and he’ll have hopefully done the same. We’ll both move on, no harm, no foul. Fingers from both of my hands meet at the top button of my pajama top, and I slip the first small plastic disc out from its slot.
He closes his eyes and runs a hand through his dark hair. “Fuck Princess, I’m trying to do this the right way. Stop trying to distract me with sex.”
I snort inelegantly. “Um, hello? You’re the one who had me up against a wall in a freaking utility closet. Not to mention, you’re constantly talking about coming and orgasms, so I don’t know what your version of the ‘right way’,” air quotes, “is.”
He looks at me thoughtfully before he grins wolfishly. “The right way is you admitting you can’t call the shots where we’re concerned.”
“There is no we as far as I’m concerned,” I reply, but even to my own ears, my voice lacks its usual sass and fervor. I don’t even have the energy to be disgusted with myself anymore. I sniff appreciatively at the mouthwatering aromas that waft in my direction as my eyes drink in the incredible male specimen standing in front of me.
Like I said, assault on all the important senses.
It occurs to me that when I’m in my eighties and assisted living days, I’m going to think back on this moment. If I don’t do it, I’m always going to wonder why. If I do, well then I’ll at least have memories of numerous orgasms to look back on, and I don’t doubt they will be countless. Who knows, maybe if Bertha had gotten laid enough when she was younger, she wouldn’t be such a sourpuss now. Then I remember she must have gotten laid enough to have kids.
I mentally ewww at the direction my thoughts take and immediately decide I need to get out of my head.
“I’ve made a decision,” I blurt out.
His whiskey eyes gleam back at me. “And?”
Keep him on his toes Lizzie girl. It’s the only way you’re going to win this.
“I want you to fuck my brains out.”
Mark
I think she just said she wanted me to fuck her brains out.
She must have because right after the words leave her mouth, her fingers slide down to undo two more buttons. I’m in a hypnotic trance, watching her every movement. I even notice her fingernails, which are painted a bright red.
They match the cherries on her top and bottom.
Christ.
Inch by inch, she torturously reveals perfect creamy skin. It was dim in the utility closet last night so I didn’t get the chance to fully appreciate all the gorgeousness only hinted by her clothes, but right now she’s helping me make up for lost time. This girl has gotten me off kilter, but I don’t mind because the reward—assuming I make it through the fog, is tempting as hell.
“You going to answer me?” she pouts.
“You didn’t exactly ask a question. You made a statement,” I say, mentally running through all the things I can do to her sexy mouth. Her eyes shine at me, like she knows exactly what she’s putting me through with her hot little show. It’s time to show her who’s in charge.
“That said, if that’s what you want, you know I’m more than happy to give you what you need. But you’re going to need your energy. We’ll eat first.”
She pauses in the middle of undoing the third button and looks at me in shock. “I’m taking my clothes off, and I just told you I’m willing to sleep with you. You probably have a case of blue balls after last night, and you want to eat?”
She’s right.
I want to laugh, but I know if I do, it’s going to infuriate her without accomplishing anything. I need to offer her a carrot.
Hostage negotiation 101.
“I want you to eat. You need sustenance. I plan on eating other things tonight.”
Pink blooms across her cheeks.
This girl who nearly stripped herself halfway topless and told me to screw her mindless just blushed.
“You’re pretty adorable.” The words leave my mouth as I think them.
She turns another shade darker. “I can’t believe you talk dirty to me then you go and label me as adorable.” She says the word like it’s dirty before she stalks into the kitchenette to pull plates from one of the cupboards.
When she returns to the small bistro-style table, I open the containers and begin plating the food. I give us each a little bit of everything before uncorking the wine and pouring it into wineglasses. I’m puzzled when she frowns at me.
I ignore her question. She knows full well she doesn’t look like a damned twig; the girl’s got the body of a goddess and an ego the size of an ocean. She doesn’t need me to let her head get any bigger than it already is. I’d planned on pulling her chair out for her, but she plunks herself down before I can do it. Impatiently, she motions for me to sit across from her.
Amused, I take my seat at the small table. Her eyes light wickedly as she raises her wineglass in a toast. “To indulging our baser instincts.”
I shake my head at her. “And you tell me I’m dirty.”
Her eyes widen with mock innocence. “I’m talking about the food, Officer Daniels.”
I can’t deny it’s hot when she calls me that, but I also can’t give her the upper hand here, so I just grunt and pick up my fork.
She rolls her eyes and digs in. I’ve barely swallowed my first bite when she closes her eyes in ecstasy and lets out a breathy moan. My gaze is transfixed on her because the face she’s making right now closely resembles the look she had on her face last night while I kissed her to kingdom come.
A strangled sound escapes my throat and she opens her eyes, looking at me curiously. “Everything okay with your food?”
“Yes.” My response is choked, somewhat curt. Alarm bells go off in my head when her face takes on that devilish expression I’m coming to recognize all too easily.
I’m right to suspect something’s up because what she does next blows my fucking mind.
She swirls some of her fettuccine in the creamy alfredo sauce before lifting the fork to her pursed lips. “This is totally going to my hips, ass, and thighs, but I’m past caring. Mmmmm,” she moans, closing her eyes once more but the difference this time is that some of that creamy white sauce is leaking out of the side of her mouth, and it looks like…
Motherfucking hell.
I growl and push back my chair, standing abruptly. I’m rock hard but I don’t even care about hiding my erection. She’s fully aware of what she’s doing to me anyway, so there’s no point in hiding it.
I swallow past the lump that’s lodged itself in my throat. “You want to play with fire Princess, you need to prepare yourself for the burn,” I say tightly. My patience is all but obliterated. It takes me less than five seco
nds flat to make it to her. Her fork clatters loudly to her plate, and her blue-green eyes are full of surprise, lust, and…a little bit of fear?
But then I wonder if I saw it at all because it quickly clears from her expression, and she’s now looking at me with the eye of a practiced vixen. “Bring it.”
“Unbuckle me. Take my cock out.” My words sound harsh in the silence. Terse and curt, but I’m in my own special brand of hell until I can make her mine.
And then I see it again. The fear flits back in almost as instantly as it dances out, but her expression is one of desire and determination. Before her hand even hits my buckle, I groan because the anticipation of what she’s about to do to me with that wickedly sexy mouth is enough to turn me on.
Then again, she did a fair amount of legwork beforehand with all of her moaning, groaning, lip licking, lip biting, and sauce dribbling in addition to her request for me to just plain fuck her brains out.
Slow down, ass.
And then her hands are there, and she’s undoing my buckle with hands that fumble more than I would expect.
“Wait!” she cries out.
She pauses for a moment and bites her lip. I bite back a curse, but thankfully she starts talking immediately. “As much as I like to try new things, I don’t think my best friend is up for being on the other side of an exhibitionist display.”
Satisfaction and relief flood through me. Thank fuck she doesn’t want to stop, and thank fuck I thought about all of this before I came over.
“She’s not here. Sophie knew I was coming over, she won’t be back until tomorrow morning,” I say slowly, my words heavy with meaning.
Never slow on the uptake, she gets it immediately. My heart skips a beat when she graces me with a cheeky grin and winks. One small, feminine hand covers my bulge over my jeans while she trails another hand over to the next button on her top—which she’s able to unbutton it with just one hand. In between releasing the buttons from their hold, the hand on my cock cups, squeezes, rubs…