10. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
“These fajitas are delicious, Tank,” Mallori said, folding her flour tortilla around the savory beef and grilled veggies. We were having dinner at the Hanford house after the ladies had spent the day shopping.
“Thanks,” the big guy replied. “But it was a group effort. I manned the grill, Hawk made the marinade, and Cam was in charge of the vegetables and tortillas.”
“Dat’s not his name,” Bella announced, pointing at her father.
Shiloh smiled indulgently as she swiped some food from her daughter’s cheek. “That’s his real name, honey. Daddy is what you call him because he’s your father.”
The little one shook her head, dark curls swinging in a soft bounce. “Nuh-uh. His name is Ooocam.”
“Ooocam?” Shy asked.
“Yepper. That's what you call him, Mommy. I hearded you last night in your bedroom. You said, Ooocam! Ooooooocam!”
She really drew out that last one, and it hit all the adults at once. Laughter exploded around the table—from everyone except the little girls who looked confused at the hilarity .
Even Shiloh was giggling, though her face was beet red. Amelia piped up. “Well, when my mommy and daddy go to bed—”
“I’ll give you both a dollar if you stop talking right now,” Tank broke in, and the girls shared a look—silently agreeing—before each held out a tiny hand. He dug out his wallet and passed over the bills to the little money-grubbers.
As he lifted a hip to put it back in his pocket, Gram said, “You all want to know what Jorge calls me?”
Tank paused and pulled his wallet back out. “How much will it cost me for you to not tell us?”
“A twenty oughta do it.”
When he sighed, I leaned forward over the table and mock-whispered, “Gram, I’ll give you fifty if you tell us right now.”
“Hawk!” my friend snapped, frowning at me as his grandmother grinned and wiggled her eyebrows.
I handed over the money, and she announced, “He calls me Sweet Dumpling.”
Tank sighed, his shoulders relaxing. “Oh, that’s not too bad, I guess.”
“You know those dumplings you get at the Chinese restaurant? Well, he says my—”
Her grandson tossed his entire wallet at her and covered his ears. “For the love of god! Take it all. Just don’t say any more!”
I was laughing so hard I could barely see Bristol tilting back her head and chugging an entire glass of margarita. I couldn’t even imagine her struggles, having to live with these two.
Mallori and I entered my house through the garage door after dinner, and I tossed my keys on the kitchen counter.
“You didn’t have to carry my bags in,” she scolded, taking the five I was carrying from my left hand.
“What all did you buy? I thought you were getting a robe.”
“Oh calm down, Dad,” she shot over her shoulder, and I had the sudden urge to turn her over my knee and teach her to watch that smart mouth around me.
What the fucking hell? I visibly cringed at my dirty thought, but luckily Mal didn’t see it as she exited the kitchen. “I just needed some summer things. I knew Texas was hot, but no one told me it was like living in an oven.”
My eyes seemed to have a mind of their own… a mind that obviously possessed not a shred of common fucking sense because they stayed trained on her small, round backside until it was gone. Imagining red handprints and—
My cock twitched, and I reached down and adjusted myself, finding it half hard. Because of thoughts of Mallori and her perky little ass.
“Christ,” I muttered to myself, swiping a hand down my face and turning to open the refrigerator. Maybe the cool air from the fridge would keep my chub from getting any chubbier.
That’s the last goddamn thing I needed. She was Cam’s cousin, who he happened to be very protective of, for fuck’s sake. I couldn’t be getting boners around her .
Contrary to what my friends thought, I didn’t get laid every five seconds. In fact, when I searched my memory, I was pretty sure it had been around a month since I’d fucked a woman.
My dick was just a bit lonely at the moment, so he was responding to a visual stimulus. “A very nice one,” I said to myself.
Or so I thought.
“A very nice what?” came a voice from behind me. Mallori. Fuck.
“Beer,” I said, blurting out the first thing I saw on the top shelf. I snagged two, holding them between my fingers and turning. “I, uh, really like longnecks instead of cans.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, her brow furrowing a little. “Why were you standing there in the refrigerator for so long?”
Because, Mal, I was attempting to deflate my hard-on, which coincidentally, I achieved by staring at your ass. Any more questions?
“Just trying to decide if I wanted a snack with my beer,” I lied, offering her one of the bottles. She took it, biting into her bottom lip as she struggled to twist off the top. I pulled it away from her, my lips turning up into an almost smile. “Give me that, you wimp.”
With an easy flick of my wrist, I removed the cap and tossed it in the trash before handing her the bottle.
“Damn showoff,” she mumbled, taking a small sip before staring at me and lifting an eyebrow. “You’re right; this is a nice one. Did you decide if you wanted a snack?”
“I think I want to watch a movie and pop some corn.”
“Glad you stared into the fridge for, like, twenty minutes to decide that,” she retorted.
“It was a few seconds, smartass.” I laughed, and just like that, things didn’t feel weird anymore. “Go pick out a movie. We can stream something, or the Chuck DVDs are in the bottom cabinet of the entertainment center.”
I was pleased when I walked into the living room a few minutes later to find Mal sitting cross-legged on the floor, drifting a finger over the rows of movies. She peeked over her shoulder at me and beamed.
“You have everything!”
“Yeah, my collection is pretty comprehensive,” I agreed, setting down the popcorn and two fresh beers on the coffee table. “Except Yellow Faced Tiger from 1974. I haven’t been able to find that one.”
“We’re watching this one,” she announced, tugging out a slim container.
“What is it?”
“A surprise!” she sang, holding it against her chest and scooting toward the DVD player.
Once Mal had it inserted, she scrabbled off the floor and planted herself on the other end of the couch, looking smug. The words Breaker! Breaker! appeared on-screen, and I chortled.
“Have you seen this one before, Little Bee?”
“Of course, I have,” she replied indignantly. “Who do you think you’re talking to here, buddy?”
“Oh, pardon the hell out of me, madam. I forgot I was dealing with an aficionado.” My tone dripped with fake deference and a hint of sarcasm as I picked up the bowl and set it in between my thighs.
“Damn skippy.” Mallori scooted down the couch until she was right beside me and dipped her hand into the popcorn bowl. In my lap. I apparently hadn’t thought this all the way through.
It’s fine. Really. Just popcorn .
She turned to me and grinned before saying, “Chuck Norris once shot an enemy plane down with his finger, by saying, ‘Pew pew!’” When she pointed a finger gun at me, I couldn’t help but laugh and replied with a fake fact of my own.
“Well, I heard the dinosaurs looked at Chuck Norris the wrong way once, and you know what happened to them.”
Mallori’s eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed before turning back to the movie. She really had the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen. When you first looked at them, they seemed blue, but close up, you could see flecks of green which made them appear more aqua.
She turned back to me, a tiny line appearing between her brows. “Do I have butter on my face or something?”
That’s when I realized I was staring at her like an idiot. Fuck. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Uh, just a little,” I lied, swiping away a nonexistent smudge from the corner of her mouth with my thumb. Her skin was so soft.
“Sorry,” she squeaked, darting her tongue out to lick at the spot where my thumb had just been. Fuck me, that tiny pink tongue… Our eyes held, light ones on dark ones before I finally dragged my gaze back to the movie.
Get your shit together, Hawk. Watch the fucking movie, not the woman beside you. The very young woman.
We sat in silence, eating, drinking, and laughing occasionally at some of the cheesiness in the film.
“You know, I’m really not a fan of Chuck’s hair in this movie,” she said a few minutes in.
“He could use a trim,” I admitted, “but it was the seventies. Whaddaya gonna do? ”
During the first fight scene, Mallori craned her neck forward, watching intently as her hands clenched and flexed. She was really into it.
Her elbow tapped against my bicep. “Did you know Norris was also the fight choreographer for this film? And he only received five-thousand dollars total?”
My black eyebrows lifted. It usually bothered me when people talked during a movie, but for some reason, her occasional chatter didn’t bug me.
“I knew he designed the fight scenes, but I didn’t know about the money.” I gestured to her untouched beer still sitting on the coffee table. “I got you another drink. Even opened it for your pansy ass.” My tone was teasing, and she rolled her eyes.
“Sorry I don’t have big, gross man hands,” she shot back, twinkling her dainty, unmanicured fingers at me.
I bumped her with my shoulder. “Gross? Woman, I’m not going to take this abuse much longer,” I growled but she simply grinned, a cheeky smile that curled playfully across her light-pink lips.
“Would you hush? I’m trying to watch this movie.”
“You started it,” I retorted, and she placed her fingertips against my cheek to turn my face back toward the screen, hissing a quiet shush at me.
My shoulders shook with laughter at her audacity. We watched in silence for another few minutes, eating popcorn and drinking our beers. Mal tilted her bottle in my direction.
“You want the rest of this? I already had daiquiris at the mall, then the other beer earlier, and I’m feeling a little tipsy.” Her button nose wrinkled. “I don’t want to throw up. ”
“That happen a lot?”
“Not since my twenty-first birthday. That was the first time I’d ever drank, and I… overindulged.”
My eyebrows almost shot off the top of my forehead. “You’re telling me you never drank before you turned twenty-one?”
Her mouth twisted to the side. “I was a big rule follower,” she explained.
Draining the rest of my beer, I set it on the table and reached for hers. “I’ll finish it.”
“Wait! Let me wipe it off.”
Before she could, I pulled it from her grasp and brought the cool neck of the bottle to my lips, my eyes intent on hers as I guzzled the remaining bubbly liquid. I tried not to think about my lips resting exactly where hers had been a few seconds earlier.
“Not worried about it. Unless you’ve got cooties or something.”
“I might,” she said smartly. “And now you’re completely infected.”
“I have a good immune system,” I replied.
“Fine,” she sighed, “but don’t expect me to take care of you when you’ve got giant boils on your lips, Tater Tot.”
“Stop calling me that,” I grunted, trying to hide my amusement.
Fifteen minutes later, I felt silky hair against my shoulder and looked down to find Mallori snoozing. Her long lashes rested against the curve of her cheek, and her lips were slightly parted. She looked like a delicate, blonde angel.
Which is why you need to maintain your distance, man.
As soon as that thought entered my mind, she wiggled and then slid downward until her cheek rested on my thick thigh. Curling her body into a ball, she nuzzled for a few seconds before stilling .
My hands hovered in mid-air, unsure where to land. Her tiny denim shorts rode up, and my eyeballs immediately found the roundness of the cheek peeking out from beneath. Finally, I pulled the dark-gray fleece blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over her from the waist down.
Out of sight, out of mind , I told myself, turning my focus back to the movie.
As the final credits rolled, I looked down to find my hand resting on Mallori’s bare shoulder, my thumb soothing a tiny freckle on the top. How the fuck did my hand end up there?
She was sleeping soundly, so I slid from beneath her and stood, looking down and wondering if I should leave her on the couch for the night.
I pushed out a sigh and wedged my arms beneath her slight frame, lifting her easily. She turned her face into my bicep, her gentle breaths like a feather against my skin.
Carrying her to her room, I pulled back the covers and placed her carefully on the bed. She was still wearing her denim shorts, and her hot-pink tank top popped against the crisp, royal-blue of the sheets.
“Mal,” I whispered, giving her warm shoulder a shake.
“Lemme alone,” she protested, slapping at my bothersome hand.
I chuckled low and deep, pulling my hand back. “You want to wake up and put some pajamas on?”
She let out a growl of frustration like I’d just asked her to run a marathon with cinder blocks tied to her ankles. Brow furrowed, lips pursed, she glared. Even though her eyelids were closed, I could still feel it .
Someone was grumpy when their sleep was interrupted, and it was about the cutest thing I’d ever seen.
Until…
“Fiiiiine,” she groused, unbuttoning and unzipping her jean shorts before lifting her hips and shoving them down her thighs.
Christ on a fucking crutch.
Pulling my eyes away, I stared at the white padded headboard behind her, but not before I caught a glimpse of panties that exactly matched the Barbie-pink of her shirt. Lace ones, for fuck’s sake.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the most moral man when it comes to sex stuff, but my absolute gold standard is consent. It’s something I’m completely feral about, and Mallori hadn’t consented to me ogling her in her underwear.
Number one, she’d admitted to being tipsy, and number two, she was half asleep. I wasn’t even sure if she was aware of who was in her bedroom as she kicked her feet until the tiny shorts flew across the room.
“There,” she snapped grumpily, “happy now?”
“Ecstatic, Little Bee,” I mumbled, keeping my eyes away from her tight ass when she rolled onto her side and curled up. I swiftly covered her with the sheet and comforter, proud of myself for not looking down even once.
I’m a paragon of virtue , I chanted in my head as I walked away and closed the door behind me. My will power is forged from reinforced steel .
After shutting down the house, I went to my bathroom and turned on the shower before shucking my clothes. My cock was fully hard, and I surrounded it with my large hand, my fingertips flicking at the piercings near the tip.
Stepping into the hot steam of the blue-tiled shower, I gave myself a long stroke. Relief. That’s what I needed. My dick had been unused for weeks, and now I had this forced hiatus from sex due to Mallori staying here.
Nope, not gonna think about her.
My thickness throbbed against my palm, and I squeezed almost to the point of pain before setting a quick, rough pace up and down my shaft. It was smooth and hot, the tip leaking to ease the glide of my hand.
“Fuck, that feels good,” I groaned, slapping my free hand against the wall and allowing the water to spill over my lowered head. I watched my cock disappear into my fist, the head reappearing with each quick stroke.
I loved sex. Everything about it. The sights, the sounds, the smells. But especially the sights. Watching my length vanish inside a woman was my favorite thing. That’s why doggy was my preferred position. The view was fucking outstanding, whether I was taking her pussy or her ass.
But a blow job… “Fuck yeah,” I groaned, punishing my dick with a hard fist.
A woman on her knees for me. The gagging noises. My hand around her throat. Her quickening pulse against my fingers, not knowing if I was going to squeeze the life out of her if she spilled a single drop of my cum.
Standing in my shower, I allowed my mind to draw the filthy picture until I could visualize the woman kneeling before me. Full lips stretched around my impressive girth. Saliva sliding from the corners of her mouth.
“That’s it, honey. Take every inch,” I growled. “Suck that cock like you mean it.” Cherry lips swallowed me down, and watery aqua eyes stared up at me.
I slammed my lids closed. No. Not aqua. Brown eyes. I forced dark irises to the forefront of my mind and when I opened mine again, chocolate eyes held my gaze. Twisting my fingers in the top of the brunette’s hair, I defiled her mouth until she would be hoarse for a week from my treatment.
Without my permission, those fucking eyes turned blue-green again, and the hair my hand was gripping morphed into a pale blonde. Small tits bounced with the force of my thrusts, and I caught a hint of pink lace panties.
I squished my lids shut again, but the vision was still there.
And I came—hard—my release hitting the tiles and sliding down the wall in thick trails.
“Fuuuuck,” I moaned, letting my forehead thunk against the wall of the shower as I pumped myself dry.
Paragon of virtue, my ass.