My breath hitched, his thumb pressed into my clit, and my world went white with the blinding pleasure. I cried out my release into his mouth, my fingers digging painfully into his back as my legs tensed up through the waves of pulsations.
“Cash,” I gasped when I could draw a breath as the waves started to taper off, my body shuddering hard once.
“Fuck me,” he said, moving away so he could look at my face, his head shaking like he couldn't quite believe something. His hand moved up to rest on my cheek again as I struggled to get some semblance of control over myself.
That was intense. As in, I felt almost vulnerable from it, as in... I was almost a little teary-eyed and I needed to get it the fuck together. I was not, was absolutely not going to cry in front of him. No way. That would be humiliating. And, given the reading of my romance novel sex scene not long before, I was pretty sure I was at my mortification quotient for the day.
His fingers shifted upward slightly as if he could sense the battle I was fighting as if, oh fuck, he could see the water in my eyes.
I needed to get. it. together.
“You can take your fingers out of me now,” I said, trying for casual and being pretty sure I nailed it.
“What if I don't want to?” Cash teased, his lips twitching, but there was a depth in his eyes that I didn't trust.
“You're going to do it anyway,” I said, brows raising and I jerked my hips backward until his fingers slid away. He took his time removing his fingers from my panties. When he finally did, I slid off his lap, snatched my book where he left it on the arm of the chair, “If you don't mind, I am going to go finish myself off,” I said with what I could only call an unfriendly sneer. I couldn't be weak, not around Cash, not around any man. I needed to get alone and get myself calmed down. If that meant I needed to bruise his ego a little in the process, well, that was unfortunately just going to have to be alright with me.
“Finish yourself off?” he asked, twisting his head around to look at me. And then, to my absolute horror (and maybe absolute delight) he raised his glistening fingers to his mouth and slipped them inside, licking my taste off. “Honey,” he said, sliding them out, giving me a grin, “I have it on pretty good authority that I finished you off just fine.”
“One orgasm, Cash?” I started, not adding that it was one all-consuming, life-changing orgasm. “What is this... amateur hour? I expected better from a man with a reputation like yours.” Then I took up off the stairs fast enough for me to want to cry out in pain in doing so, but not fast enough to look like I was running away. Which was exactly what I was doing. I was running- away from Cash, away from the twisted mix of feelings I had toward him, away from the rush of feelings he brought out of me. I was fucking running.ThirteenCashThe woman was going to fucking kill me. Death by utter fucking confusion and the most severe case of blue balls known to man. All I had to do was look at her and I was hard. One kiss and I was ready to forsake all other women. She was what I wanted. If I were honest, she was who I had been thinking about every time I sank inside another woman since I met her a year before. She had been invading my thoughts way before I suddenly found her in my house.
I adjusted my jeans to get more comfortable, well, as comfortable as I could be with a raging hard-on, listening to her slam the bathroom door upstairs and turn on the water.
She didn't need a shower. She needed a couple of minutes away from me to put her walls back into place because with the orgasm I had just given her, they had come crashing down, leaving nothing in front of me but the most beautiful sight I had ever seen in my entire god-forsaken life: the real Lo.
As soon as the tremors stopped shaking through her body, her eyes found my face and all I saw in hers was raw, almost painful vulnerability. It was so shocking I almost couldn't believe it belonged to her. She was always so strong, so unflappable. But, I guessed, that was why she had all those walls, all those guards: to keep anyone from seeing the woman underneath, a woman that had been through something, who had endured, who had survived by locking it all away so no one could ever use it against her.
I wanted to know what she had been through. I wanted to know her story. And seeing as, many times, I barely stuck around long enough to learn a chick's last name, that was really fucking terrifying. The problem was amplified by the fact that it didn't make any sense.
Why her? Why the only woman I had come across in years, hell a lifetime, that I didn't like? Why would she be the one who was different?
I had just jumped off the couch to storm up the stairs and get some kind of clue as to what was going on in her head, when there was a knock at my door. I, unlike my brother, didn't hide the fact that I had my own place. Guys from the club, women I fucked, they all showed up from time to time, usually without calling. It was nothing out of the norm.
Opening the door and finding Wolf, however, was.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, brows drawing together.
“Got some shit...” he started and trailed off with a shake of his head.
“Yeah, man,” I said, letting out a humorless laugh. “I got some shit too. Want a drink?”