She thinks she was discreet sniffing the collar of her shirt this morning. But I saw her, and damn if it didn’t stir something primal inside of me—made me want to rub myself all over her, so that everyone who came near her knew she was spoken for…that she was mine.
As the water heats, my thoughts linger on Frankie, and on what life would be like if she really was mine.
I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to wake up beside her every morning—and better yet, to fall asleep with her petite body wrapped around mine every night.
Fuck yes.
I step beneath the steaming water and squirt a dollop of body wash into the palm of my hand as thoughts of her, and only her, invade my brain.
She’d sleep so good with me in her bed, because I’d wear her out every night. I’d lick her pussy until she begged me to stop, and then I’d fuck her until she was boneless. Long, hard, fast, slow…any way she asked for it, until her voice gave out from screaming my name.
Reaching down, I palm my erection and then squeeze the base.
It’d be so good between us. I know it would.
I let my imagination run wild as I jack my dick, all the while imagining it’s her giving me pleasure instead of my right hand.
Bet her sweet little pussy tastes like heaven…
I brace one arm against the shower wall and quicken my pace.
Bet she’d squeeze my dick like a vise grip.
My balls tighten as that telltale tingle starts at the base of my spine . “Fuck, Frankie,” I grunt, canting my hips forward as I splash the shower wall with my release.
I linger, with my forehead pressed against the tile, waiting for my body to come down. My dick, too, for that matter—because as good as jerking off to thoughts of her may be, I already know it’s nothing compared to the real thing.
The sound of the front door opening rips me out of my post-orgasm stupor, and I quickly rinse off, more than ready for whatever the night may hold.
“Something sure smells good,” I say, ambling into the kitchen. I’m not lying, either—it smells like sizzling peppers and onions, and I am here for it.
“It’s nothing special,” Frankie murmurs, moving the taco meat around in her skillet with a spatula.
“That’s for me to decide, yeah?” I tip my head and smirk. “Plus, Mav said your tacos are the best.”
“Enough innuendos.”
I take a few steps closer, shocked to see she has rice boiling in one pot, beans in another, and has two separate pans of meat cooking—one with peppers and onions, and one without.
“Never.”
“You’re trouble, Orion.” She smiles at me over her shoulder. “With a capital ‘T.’”
My heart rate kicks up, painfully thumping against my chest bone. “Don’t I know it?” This playful side of Frankie makes me feel wild—reckless, even.
“Where’s Maverick?”
“In our room.” She wipes her hands on a dishtowel and turns to face me. “Said he wanted to color you a picture.”
I try to play it cool even though I’m ridiculously thrilled at the prospect of him drawing me a picture. That must mean I’m pretty cool, right—that I have the Maverick Townsend seal of approval? Maybe it’ll even earn me some brownie points with his mama.
“What can I do to help?”
“Wanna grab the plates and cups?” she asks, returning her attention to the stovetop. “Do you know if Stella will be back in time to eat?”
“Nah.” I step in right behind her, nice and close. “She’s staying over at Samson’s tonight.”
“Oh.” She freezes at my nearness, at the feeling of my front pressing into her back. “Um.”
I lean down, my breath skating over the exposed skin of her neck as I bring my lips to the shell of her ear. “You okay, little mama?”
She shivers and tries to step forward, but the stove keeps her boxed against me. “What are you doing?” Her voice trembles, and I swear to God, the slight shake is nearly enough to have my dick bursting through the seam of my jeans.
I bet this is exactly how she’d sound, begging me to let her come: hesitant, but hot, soft but demanding.
“Just grabbing the plates.” I lean in closer and reach over her head, grabbing down three plates from the cabinet to the right of her.
“And you n-needed to b-be that close?” Her feathers are ruffled, and I’m here for it.
I step back, dragging my eyes over her tight body before placing the plates on the island. She’s dressed in tight leggings and an off-the-shoulder sweater. It’s casual and sexy-as-hell all at once. “Damn straight.”
She huffs out an exasperated sigh and flicks off the burners. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” I give her my back and grab the cups from a different cabinet.