She continues staring, wide-eyed, not speaking, so I speak again. “I needed to talk to that woman about the shit her sister pulled that’s fucking with Riley. Riley’s my closest friend, he’s like a brother to me, and he’s a good fucking guy that got fucked over bad. Leaving him in mourning for over six fucking years. He thought she drowned. I went in there because of that shit and concern about her being near you after you threatening to try to get our bond untied, and that woman is hiding her scent so that had me tweaked. Okay?”
She nods subtly.
I haven’t known her long, but so far, haven’t seen my typically sassy woman react like this. It belatedly occurs to me that she’s aroused, so I part her knees and pull her closer. When she’s flush against my pelvis, legs wrapped around my lower back, I grab her ponytail and hang on while I give her a rough kiss, with tongue. When I pull back, her eyes are glossed over and I know by sight, smell, and through our connection that she’s ready to be fucked.
“Now,” I say low, against the skin behind her ear, “I’m goin’ to go help get the rest of your mother’s shit in here, then we’re going home and I’m gonna fuck you. Hard. The only reason you’re not getting it right here, right now, is because your mother needs her furniture brought up. Understand?” I back up and look her in the eyes.
She swallows hard, still just staring, so I lean in and suck on her claiming mark briefly, pulling a breathless whimper from her before I turn and go back to move the rest of the fucking furniture.
43
Amelia
That was the hottest one-sided conversation I’ve had in my life. Or maybe it was tied with the conversation we had while he fucked me in the woods and got all bossy during the outdoor interlude, I don’t know; I only know that for some strange reason, him being that possessive and livid with me for mild flirtation with another guy, but yet still all over me, reminding me that I’m his and that he’s going to fuck me again soon is insanely hot.
And bonus points for Doggo for putting whatever fears I had to rest by explaining – without a prompt from me – what he was doing stalking off to go behind closed doors with that gorgeous woman.
Whoa. I’m completely flustered here. And I have a stupid smile on my pink face.
I splash cold water on my face, because I have to, and I could do with a splashing of the same between my legs, but since that’s not exactly realistic, I dry my hands, then I put my bag back over myself cross body and head back to the kitchen to gulp back three quarters of a bottle of water before going down the stairs to see what else I can help carry up. So that we can be done. So we can hurry home and have more sex.
***
We’re pulling down a quiet country road, nothing but trees around, after having stopped at the supermarket near Mom’s new apartment so I could get the ingredients I needed for dinner (Mason came in, pushed the cart and he insisted on paying but was broody the whole time, and I found it incredibly scintillating), and I’m nattering almost nonsensically about nothing important, just about how much Mom will love that little greenhouse out back on the roof patio of her new apartment and how she’ll grow tomatoes and jar up some of her chili sauce that’s amazing inside an omelet. I also wax lyrical about her homemade pickles and jam. I can’t stop myself from babbling and I think it’s a nervous reaction to the alpha intensity rolling off him. He keeps cracking his neck. Flexing his jaw. Giving me these... looks.
Abruptly, he pulls over to the side of the road and puts his truck in park.
I’m about to question the move when I hear click and then click again. Both my and his seatbelts spring back, and I squeak with surprise as I’m pulled across the console that separates the two front seats. He’s planting me astride him.
“Oh. Hi there,” I chirp happily, adjusting my position slightly to get more comfortable.
He growls, deep, and it vibrates straight through me as he grabs my face with both hands so he can pull my mouth to his.
“Get these fucking things off,” he orders and starts pulling at my clothes.
“What? Here?” I ask.
“Fucking right.” He hits a control and his seat flies back so that he’s in a nearly prone position. He goes for his fly. “Jeans off, wildberry. Right now.”
“You still mad at me?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he breathes.
“And you’re going to reward me with an orgasm?” I ask, cheekily, unable to keep the smile from tugging at the corners of my mouth.