Chapter Thirty-Three #3
“Nice try, but you can’t ditch me that easily.
” She lifted her left hand and wiggled her fingers, her rings glittering under the lights.
“You put these rings on my finger, and there are several weeks left on our contract. If you think I’m letting some sexy nurse bat her lashes at you while you’re sitting alone in a waiting room, you’ve lost your freaking mind.
I’ve got a wifely reputation to uphold. Waiting-room hand-holding is nonnegotiable. ”
He hadn’t gone into this arrangement looking for anything, but here he was, standing in his kitchen, heart raw, chest burning, because she gave a damn.
Swamped by emotions he shouldn’t have, he did what he knew best and set out on a mission to outrun them. “Careful, wifey. You start demanding waiting-room hand-holding and I’m going to assume exam-room quickies are part of a package deal.”
He reached for her, but she stepped back, heat and mischief dancing in her eyes. “Maybe they are. It depends how hot the doctor is.”
“You—” He lunged, grateful for the reprieve, and she squealed, darting across the kitchen. Laughter rang out as he chased her. “If anyone’s defiling you in an exam room, it’s me,” he growled.
“You’re not the boss of me!”
He snagged her wrist, but she shrieked and yanked her arm free.
Scurrying away, she stepped on the paint tray, sending paint flying.
She slipped on the tarp, knocking over the paint can just as he grabbed her from behind, and they tumbled to the paint-soaked tarp in a heap of carefree laughter.
Spilled paint be damned, he rolled her beneath him, and man, what a sight she was, covered in paint, bright-eyed and dimple-cheeked.
But as always happened when they were close, the air heated, pulsing with urgency, their bodies burning every place they touched, and in the next breath, their laughter was silenced by the crush of their lips.
The world disappeared, and they rolled around, kissing, groping, and stripping off their clothes.
Finally naked, he took her in a punishingly intense kiss, leaving her whimpering for more as he perched above her.
He teased her pussy with one hand, her nipple with the other, and the air rushed from her lungs, desire burning in her eyes.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, covered in paint, your pussy dripping for me, and those lips. Jesus, those fucking lips taunt me every damn second of the day.” He wanted to kiss them, fuck them, and hear his name fly from them all at once. “Looks like I’m the boss now, Angel.”
Her eyes narrowed with challenge. “Bosses don’t get on their knees.”
“You’re right, but wives do.”
“Gladly.” She reached for his cock, stroking him as he fucked her with his fingers.
He used his thumb on her clit, earning more of those sexy sounds, and as she sat up, he knew her mouth on him wouldn’t be enough to satiate the primal need burning through him. “I want to fuck your mouth while you come on mine.”
As he lowered himself to his back, she said, “The paint—”
“Don’t care,” he growled, and reached for her.
“Smother me with your pussy while you suck my cock.” He guided her into position, holding her sex tight against his mouth as she lowered hers over his cock, taking him in deep.
He groaned against her pussy, clutching her ass with one hand while he used the other on those oversensitive nerves, making her squirm.
She sucked and stroked as he licked, sucked, and fucked her, using teeth and tongue.
She rocked against his mouth, moaning. The sound vibrated around his dick, heightening the sensations, taking him to the brink of release as she cried out, her arousal spreading over his tongue.
He held her hips, feasting on her, feeling her muscles spasm, then finally ease as she came down from the high.
Her fist circled his cock again, but before she could take him in her mouth, he sent another orgasm crashing over her.
This time as she came down from the high, he needed more.
“I need to be inside you. Ride me, Angel.”
She moved swiftly, lust flaming in her eyes as she pulled the tether from her hair, sending her paint-streaked locks tumbling over her breasts as she straddled him.
As she sank down, her arousal coating the head of his cock, he grabbed her hips, stopping her, and bit out, “Fuck. I need to grab a condom.”
“No, you don’t,” she said, feverishly peeling his hands off her hips.
“I’m on birth control.” She sank down, taking in every aching inch of him.
A moan rushed from her lips, and “Fuuck” fell from his.
She was so tight and hot, bolts of pleasure shot through him, shattering his control.
They thrust and gyrated with everything they had.
The pleasure was so intense, he sat up, needing his mouth on her, and sucked her nipple to the roof of it.
She arched against him, fingernails digging into his flesh, riding him faster and harder. “Ohgodohgodohgod. Zan—”
Her pussy clenched like a vise around his cock.
Heat seared down his spine, his muscles cording tight as he gritted his teeth, refusing to come as he pounded into her, taking her right back up to the crest of another orgasm.
Her eyes slammed shut, her hips bucking and grinding, and she cried out, catapulting him into a maelstrom of ecstasy so all-consuming, everything else failed to exist.
When she went soft in his arms, he rained kisses over her shoulder and neck. Her skin smelled like paint and sex and her, and he wanted to drown in it.
As the world came back into focus, she let out a soft moan and lifted her head from his shoulder. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes at half-mast, she flashed those dimples. “You made a mess of your kitchen.”
She was snarky, stubborn, and messy, and he’d never known anyone so intriguing. “I’m pretty sure that’s your fault.”
She flashed a sweet smile, the softness in her eyes tugging at him, making him want to lay her down, get her hot and bothered again, and spend the rest of the day lost in her. That was the problem with this arrangement. She was too damn easy to get lost in.
He patted her ass. “Come on, sexy girl. Shower time.”
“We should have had sex against the wall,” she said as they pushed to their feet. “Butt prints would be a great conversation starter.”
He laughed. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re trouble?”
“Nope.” She tapped his chest and said, “I’m pretty sure that’s your fault,” and headed for the living room, leaving painted footprints.
Jesus Christ. She was impossible.
He hauled her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Hey!” She laughed and smacked his ass as he carried her into the bathroom.
“Careful, Flores, you might reawaken the Loch Ness monster.”
Laughing, she played his fucking ass like a drum.
When he set her down under the warm spray, steam rose around them, blurring the edges of the world again.
She tipped her head back, rinsing the paint from her hair.
Paint circled the drain like his thoughts always seemed to circle her.
He poured body wash into his palm, telling himself to wash up quickly and get the hell out of there.
He needed to get his head on straight and clean up the paint in the kitchen before it dried.
But one smile from his beautiful girl, and he had no fucks left for paint.
As his hands caressed her curves, her arms circled him, and their mouths came together, eager and easy, as if they were two halves always meant to be one.