Chapter Thirty-Five #2
“Alright, whatever sets your panties on fire, babe,” Sawyer said, giving everyone a wave and heading toward the door.
Everyone else shuffled out as well, saying our goodbyes on the street. My eyes went to the police station, and Brock shoved his shoulder into mine.
“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to Lloyd. Go home with your man.”
My man.
My head tilted up to look at him, truly seeing him as that for maybe the first time. Mine. He was mine.
“Come on,” he urged, pulling me to his SUV, and helping me in.
And because my mind was there, and I was not the type to pussyfoot around and wonder and make myself sick about things when I could just cut to the chase and confront them, as we pulled out into traffic, I asked.
“What is this?” His gaze turned my way for a second, brows drawn together. “You and me. I figure I could wait around for a couple of weeks to gauge where your intentions are, or I could just ask.”
He didn’t answer right away, taking a turn, then pulling up outside his building, parking, then turning in his seat to give me his full attention.
“Didn’t want to put too much on your plate with everything going on with Cass, so I didn’t make shit as clear as I wanted right from the jump.
But this thing here with you and me, this is going somewhere.
Can I guarantee that we are going to always get on, that we aren’t going to go a bunch of rounds over things?
No. Can I promise this will lead to marriage and babies and happy ever after?
Again, no. But what I can say is, I like what I see, Kenz.
I like your spirit. I like that you take care of yourself.
I like that you don’t need me, but want me regardless.
I like your loyalty and your fearlessness.
I like how you are solid as hell, but you melt for me.
And, though I think this goes without saying, I sure as fuck like that I get to be the one to taste you and get inside you.
This is going somewhere. And when I see a future with someone, I’m serious as shit about putting my best into it.
So that’s where I am at. Where are you at? ”
Okay, I was pretty much doing the melty thing he mentioned inside at his declaration.
I decided right then and there that there might not have been anything hotter in the world than a man who knew his mind and wasn’t afraid to speak it, even if it exposed a vulnerability.
Add that to the ever-growing list of reasons Tig was possibly the best man I knew, and definitely the best I had ever been involved with.
He was right too; I didn’t need him. In fact, I hoped there would never be a day in my life when I needed any man.
I was whole even when I was alone, and it was something I was ever thankful my mother instilled in me growing up, that she never let me think that I was only a half, looking for my other half to complete me.
But that being said, because I was whole, I had a lot to share with someone else. I had a lot to give.
And I wanted to give that to Tig.
“I’m going to drive you crazy, and rant and rave and pace your floors, and girly up your place a bit,” I warned, giving him a smirk.
“I am going to need those foot rubs of yours at least five times a week. You really fucked yourself there, showing me that skill. And I am going to drag you to all my family events and be, as a whole, a bit of a pain in the ass and demanding.”
It was a warning.
And his smile was big enough to warm his eyes.
“I got no illusions about you, Kenz. I see it all, and I want it. I don’t need a fucking warning. I want to know that you’re going to give this a go.”
“I’m going to give this a go,” I agreed, feeling a bit of a swirling inside, knowing that by agreeing to do so, I was going to be in deeper than I was used to.
Because I had never dated a man like Tig before.
I never knew someone who always knew his mind and fearlessly expressed that.
I didn’t know someone who genuinely did not give a fuck what others thought of him.
And I damn sure never met someone who treated me as well as he had treated me almost from the beginning.
While I would never need him to take care of me, I genuinely liked knowing that he wanted to, that it wasn’t some burdensome obligation that he didn’t want to shoulder.
“Good, now that that’s out of the way, let’s get upstairs and get out of these clothes.”
And, well, I couldn’t find any fault in his plan.
I followed behind him as he went through his ridiculous, but comforting, security systems, as we went up the stairs. His back to me, my hand went to the tie belt and untied it, before working the buttons on the shirt, then slipping out of my bra.
“Oh, I forgot to ask…” he started when we were in the living space, finally turning back to me as I flipped his dress shirt over my shoulder, leaving me in nothing but the heels that were killing my feet.
“Fucking Christ,” he growled as soon as he turned, eyes deep and heated as he raked them over me.
“What did you need to ask me?” I asked, trying to keep from grinning in pure, feminine accomplishment.
His eyes slowly moved back up to my face, looking blank.
“Perhaps you were going to ask why you were still fully clothed?” I suggested, moving closer toward him, his dress shirt dropping from my fingers.
His smile tipped up, devilish, promising to show his appreciation in multiple screaming orgasms. If there was one way to make your man happy, it was to shock the shit out of them sexually.
“That must have been it.”
“Well, let’s see what we can do about that, shall we?
” I asked, hands going to his tee and pulling upward until he needed to take over to get it over his head and off.
My hands moved down his chest and stomach, where I snagged his button and pushed it through.
I pulled the zipper, then reached inside to get both waistbands and dragged them down as I lowered myself down before him.
“That’s much better,” I told him from on my knees a second before grabbing his cock at the base and running my tongue over the soft, swollen head.
The angle wouldn’t let me do as good a job as I would like, him being way too tall, but by the time his hand stopped cradling the back of my neck and started to pull me back, his breathing had become shallow, and his groans spurred me on.
He dragged me back up onto my feet using my hair, holding close to the root so it was the good kind of pain, using it to yank my head back so his lips could crash down on mine.
His fingers pressed between my thighs, thumb finding my clit at the same time that two fingers thrust inside me, making me cry out against his lips.
His thrusts were hard and demanding, promising sweet oblivion, and before I even knew how close I was, an orgasm crashed unexpectedly through my system, making my legs go weak as I cried out.
He made a growling noise as his fingers left me, his hand going around my lower back and lifting until he coaxed my legs around his lower back, holding me with one arm as he stepped out of his shoes and pants.
He bent suddenly forward, making me shriek as I grabbed him harder with my arms and legs, going into his pocket to grab his wallet.
Then he walked with me back to the couch, sitting down with me straddling him.
He flipped open his billfold, pulling out a condom, then pressing into my hip.
“Lift up,” he demanded, reaching between us to protect us, before looking up into my eyes.
“Ride me, honey,” he commanded and there was a simultaneous fluttering in my belly and tightening in my sex as I lifted up a little further, then lowered myself down onto him slowly, consumed by feeling each thick inch stretch me, make me his.
His fingers slid up my sides, teasing over my ribs as I took him fully, then closed over my breasts. His fingers swiped and rolled my nipples before he leaned forward and closed his lips around one tightened bud and then the other.
The pressure built inside until it was too painful to fight anymore, having me start to ride him, slow and sweet, leaning forward and taking his lips. His hands slid down my back to sink into my ass, grabbing hard, but not guiding me, letting me lead.
It built slowly, making me whimper out against his lips as I felt it start to push me to the edge and then shove me over.
“Tig,” I moaned against his lips.
I barely had a second to come down from the climax before he was on his feet, turning, and dropping me down on the couch, moving to the armrest and grabbing my ankles, yanking me toward it until my ass was up on it.
He took my legs and shoved them up in the air, crossing them at the ankles against his chest, then slamming hard and deep, making me curse loudly as a seemingly impossible surge of rekindled desire shot through me.
His arms folded around the tops of my thighs, holding me completely captive as he fucked me. There was no other way to explain it. He fucked me fast and hard and deep, making my entire body jolt with each thrust.
“Come,” he demanded as my whimpers became moans that became genuine screams as my pussy tightened, as I felt like I was teetering on the edge of a cliff and hesitating, worrying about the fall.
But then his one arm moved between my thighs and pressed hard into my clit as he kept fucking me.
And I fell.
I crashed.
I completely shattered apart with the force of the orgasm that started where our bodies were connected but seemed to explode outward until it overtook me completely.
My whimpers were unfamiliar to my own ears when I was finally conscious enough to even notice such a thing.
Tig was buried deep, bent forward, pressing my knees into my body as he struggled for breath. Sensing my inspection, he looked down at me, turning slightly and planting a kiss to my ankle. “Fuck, woman,” he said, shaking his head as he slowly straightened, releasing my legs, and sliding out of me.
With that, he moved off into the hall to the bathroom.
Alone, I rolled onto my side facing the hall, too tingly and sated to even think of trying to get up and get my clothes.
Tig walked back out in a pair of thick black sweatpants and a plain white tee, his head tilting to the side when he saw me, the sweetest friggin’ smile pulling at his lips. He moved toward me, sitting down by my legs.
“You alright there?” he asked, smirking slightly.
“Don’t worry, you didn’t kill me with your dick,” I teased, chuckling a little. “Though it was close,” I admitted.
“You want a blanket?” he asked as his hand traced up my bare thigh.
“I want food,” I admitted, giving him a smile as I rolled onto my back. “I cooked breakfast, so you have dinner. Now hop to,” I demanded, poking him with my foot.
“My woman’s hungry,” he said, smiling down at me, testing out the phrase. My woman. It didn’t sound forced or hesitant on his lips. And it settled with a warm, liquid feeling in my belly.
“And my man better get to cooking,” I agreed with a smirk, loving the way his smile grew warm.
Loving?
What the fuck?
Not loving.
Definitely, definitely not loving. It was way too soon for that.
But as he stood and moved to get to cooking, I realized we were very much heading in that direction.
I had only known him for a week or so, and I already cared deeply.
I was already invested. So it followed that with some more time, that care and investment in our future would absolutely trip into a deep love.
Normally, that thought made me antsy, made me want to rush to deny it, pretend that I didn’t have time for that in my life, would fill me with distrust and fear.
But as I turned and looked at Tig moving his massive form around the kitchen to make me a late dinner, there wasn’t even a hint of fear, of hesitation, of distrust.
For maybe the first time in my life, I had found a man I knew I could lean on, that I didn’t have to be so strong around, who could handle me.
There was nothing scary about that.