Sweet Christ, I hate myself.
I knew kissing Birdie, tasting her, and having the freedom to touch her however I wanted would test every ounce of control I had, but I never knew exactly how much until the first swipe of her tongue against mine. Until I felt her clawing at me and needing me as much as I did her. Until I heard her whimper with desire in my mouth the first time I rubbed my cock between her sweet thighs. Knowing she wanted me as much as I wanted her set something off in me I had no control over. After fifteen years of keeping a filter in place and watching what I said and did with this woman, having that filter suddenly ripped away when she screamed at me in the rain that she wanted me too was like being starved your entire life and then someone suddenly put an entire table of decadent food in front of you. I couldn’t think straight I was so hungry for her. I couldn’t get her against me fast enough, couldn’t touch her everywhere quick enough. I had to claim her, mark her, make her mine, and make sure she knew damn well what I felt for her so she could finally stop making up dumb shit in her head.
“This is gonna change everything.”
“It’s about fucking time.”
I can still hear those emotion-filled words coming out of her beautiful mouth and ringing through my ears, see the need in her eyes when she looked at me, and feel how goddamn wet she was on my cock, reminding me all the feelings were mutual.
Christ, she was a fucking dream she was so hot for me.
It still doesn’t stop me from feeling like absolute horse shit.
Birdie’s eyes finally meet mine, her hands stilling in the process of straightening her tank top. She studies my face for a few quiet, tense seconds, the blood rushing in my ears, my cheeks feeling hot, and my skin feeling itchy, hoping she’ll forgive me for manhandling her when she means so much more to me than that. My feet won’t even let me close the distance between us, because I’m afraid if I get close to her again, I’ll throw her up against the wall and manhandle her again.
Nothing in my life has ever felt so perfect as that first moment I drove inside Birdie, not even the first time I drove a ball over 300 yards. Everything suddenly made sense. The pressures of the world and my life stopped screaming in my ears, every question I’d ever had was answered, and I automatically knew what I wanted to do and where I wanted to be for the rest of my life. I’m scared to death I screwed everything up, just because I couldn’t control my goddamn dick.
Birdie’s fingers slowly drop from the hem of her tank top, those fingers curling into her palms as she holds her fists down by her sides and her eyes narrow on me. I’ve been on the receiving end of Birdie’s rage enough times to be able to recognize when a storm is brewing inside that beautiful head of hers, and going by the way she cocks her hip, crosses her arms roughly in front of her, and looks at me like she’s trying to decide which piece of lawn equipment she’s going to use to remove my skin from my body, this storm is going to be a lot more catastrophic than the one that just blew through the golf course outside this shed.
“You stupid son of a bitch,” she mutters, my mouth dropping open when that’s not at all what I expected her to say, right as the door to the shed flies open and bangs against the wall behind me.
“Daaamn, someone’s been doing a lot of squats. Nice ass, Putz.”
With a muttered curse when I hear Tess’s voice and I comprehend my ass is still hanging out and my dick is still flopping in the breeze, I quickly yank my shorts the rest of the way up, tucking everything back inside, letting my waistband snap against my stomach when I’m covered. The sound makes Birdie’s head jerk up, and I realize she’d been staring at my dick while I put it away, that dick suddenly stirring back to life in my shorts with this knowledge.
Needing to look away from Birdie, because looking at her tangled hair, swollen lips, and flushed skin just makes everything we did in this room flash through my head in HD, vivid technicolor, I mirror Birdie’s pose, crossing my arms over my chest as I turn to look at Tess leaning her shoulder against the frame in the open doorway as she smiles around my shoulder at Birdie.
“Can I assume the state of your wrinkled clothing, Putz’s great ass on display moments ago, and the fact that he’s missing a shirt and you’re no longer girding your loins to mean he finally fucked your brains out, and you can stop complaining about him being a tease and how you’re gonna get carpel tunnel from diddling yourself to thoughts of him every night?” Tess asks Birdie sweetly with a bat of her eyelashes.