Chapter 15
I fell into a slumber so deep, I didn’t notice when Twister got up or feel it when he took off my boots. As I peeled my eyes open, I heard movement in the kitchen. It took me a moment, but I recognized the sound of a round whisk being shaken about in a bottle.
He was making a protein shake.
Pushing myself upright, I drew in a lungful of air and glanced over the back of the couch into the kitchen. He spotted me right away, and I got to watch as a slow, lazy smile spread across his lips.
“Mornin’.
“Hi,” I muttered groggily.
My bladder beckoned and—sure I could use another moment to crawl my way fully into consciousness—I said nothing more before I got up and headed to the bathroom.
It was there where I was reminded I’d gone to bed with my makeup on.
Again. I really needed to stop doing that.
After I washed my hands, I splashed a little water on my face in an attempt to clean myself up a little.
I also rinsed out my mouth and then patted myself dry.
Considering my reflection, I had to admit, I’d had better days—but he’d seen worse.
I raked my fingers through my hair then finally took my leave of the bathroom.
Twister was still in the kitchen upon my approach, sucking down the last of his shake.
Now adequately awake, I took in a few more of his details.
He appeared to have showered already. His hair was damp, and he was dressed in a black Johnny Cash graphic tee.
The garment was well worn, and he’d chopped off the sleeves, making it more muscle shirt than tee.
Not that I had any complaints. The way he wore it allowed him to showcase most of his tattoos unobscured.
The jeans he wore were faded black, and he hooked a chain through a belt loop at his hip, clipped to the wallet tucked in his back pocket.
It was the sight of his boots which most alerted me to his readied state, causing me to wonder aloud, “What time is it?”
“A little after ten.”
“Oh. Okay, I…”
I lost my words as an object in my periphery triggered my brain to recognize something was different. The moment I looked away from Twister, I saw it. My mouth fell open as I gaped at the most beautiful coffee maker I’d ever seen sitting right there on the counter.
I made my way toward it, glancing up at Twister as I walked by him.
I wasn’t the least bit surprised to find an amused glint in those brown eyes.
Ignoring the not-so-little arrogant shit, I approached my present.
It was a pour over coffee machine as sleek as it was elegant.
I knew by looking at it he’d spent no less than five hundred dollars on the thing.
Next to it, he’d left the simple instructions on how to brew a cup.
There were also the appropriate size filters, two different kinds of ground beans, and a pretty, custom, stoneware mug.
I was joking when I sent that text a couple days ago, and he never responded.
At least, I thought he hadn’t—until now.
I remembered very well the last time a man bought me a gift.
It was a fifteen-carat diamond tennis bracelet.
It was a push present—but not in the traditional sense of the term.
I hadn’t been the one to push. It was him who pushed me .
He shoved me hard against a shelf filled with bottles of booze.
It toppled over right along with me, creating a mess of spilled liquor and broken glass.
If I hadn’t landed on the shelf, I probably would have been covered in cuts.
The fact that I was only a little bruised was my consolation prize.
The bracelet was meant to be an apology.
I never wore it. Not even once.
I pawned it the first chance I got.
But this—this gift I didn’t want to pawn.
Still transfixed by the machine in front of me, I didn’t notice Twister at my back until he wrapped his arms around my middle and pulled me gently against his chest. I sucked in a startled breath, but the smell of him—cedar and amber—reminded me I didn’t need to be afraid.
‘I got you, sparky. You’re safe.’
His lips tickling my ear, he asked, “Will it do?”
I couldn’t seem to answer him right away, my mind attempting to properly categorize this gesture.
A part of me wanted to wrap his gift in suspicion and doubt, but I knew that was the devil within trying to rob me of the joy of this moment; rob me of the pleasure of being spoiled for no other reason than because he wanted to do something nice for me.
Resisting the urge to repel his kindness, I spun around to face him.
Grabbing hold of his bearded cheeks, I gazed up into his brown eyes and whispered, “It’s perfect.”
When he leaned in for a kiss, I met him halfway, wanting it with every fiber of my being.
I pressed up onto my tiptoes as I parted my lips and moved to wrap my arms around him.
A sigh of satisfaction passed from my mouth to his as his tongue sought mine.
His affection was as hungry and indulgent as ever, and it turned me on like it always did.
My fingers found their way into his damp hair, and I held onto the thick strands, wanting to keep him close for as long as possible. “Do you—have to—go?” I mumbled between kisses.
I could feel his smile as he answered against my lips, “Not until I’ve had you.” He reached for the button at my shorts as he continued, “Pretty sure I made you a promise.”
What he said was enough for me to pull away from him in order to help him undress me. As soon as my ankles were free of my panties and my denim, I reached over to open his jeans. He let me do it, fishing a rubber out of his wallet while I worked.
As he ripped open the condom, I took hold of his length, stroking him a few times.
It didn’t take much to get him fully erect—and the feel of his hardness was all it took for the heat of my longing to pool between my thighs.
Much like the first time, my hand around his healthy girth was an unspoken promise of pleasure the likes of which I’d never experienced with anyone else.
No sooner had he rolled on the condom than he had my naked ass on his cold counter. I didn’t mind the bite of the chill, too busy focused on the instant gratification caused when Twister lined us up and filled me full.
He grabbed hold of my legs beneath my thighs, and he took me fast and hard.
I held onto the back of his sculpted biceps and luxuriated in the sensation of our friction.
The sound of his skin slapping against mine, slick with my arousal, made me burn for him.
I grew short of breath, and I could sense my pores opening as I began to perspire, my whole body on fire.
“Look at us, baby,” he demanded, his gaze already aimed at our connection point.
I obeyed and watched as his generous cock rammed in and out of me. The sight of it made me moan, stirring the passion inside, beckoning my orgasm closer.
“See how drenched you are for me? Hmm? Do you see how hard I am for you?”
I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears, as if my heart itself was trying to answer him.
“Fuckin’ perfect fit, baby. You and me—fuckin’ beautiful.”
There was something about the way he said it that made me look up at him.
Watching as he stared down at us, I knew he meant it.
I knew he’d buy me a hundred coffee machines if I asked.
I knew he wanted me, and I believed he wouldn’t hurt me.
I understood he would protect me as fiercely as he fucked me, and it was this truth that made me whimper, “Yes, daddy.”
In an instant, his gaze was locked with mine, and the look in his eyes was feral .
He growled, letting go of one of my legs so he might grab a fistful of my hair and tug, until I had no choice but to stare up at him. “Fuckin’ right,” he ground out, pounding into me harder.
I moaned as he beckoned my orgasm closer. He was riding me with an intensity so great, I knew I’d feel him long after we were done. I gripped him tighter, my fingertips digging into his skin and he brought me to the edge. I was so close, and I wanted it so badly.
“Benson,” I cried. “Oh, Ben—I’m gonna come.”
“Let go, baby. Come for daddy.”
As if all I needed was his encouragement, I let go, and my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave.
It didn’t happen all at once. It slammed into me even as he kept at it; then it smacked me again as it began to spread; another thrust elicited a ripple of pleasure to course through me until my scalp tingled and my toes curled.
“Yes—oh—shit,” I moaned as my sex clenched around his length, my body trembling from the immensity of it all.
It wasn’t long before he toppled over right along with me.
He freed a grunt, burying himself as deep as he could go, and then his lips were on mine.
His tongue swept through my mouth, and he groaned as he pulled out and jerked his hips once more before he stilled and ravaged me with a deep, wet, fucking perfect kiss.
I felt drunk on him when he finally pulled away. He let go of my hair but grabbed hold of the front of my neck, his thumb and his forefinger applying pressure at the back of my jaw, preventing me from looking anywhere but straight into his eyes.
Not that I would dare look anywhere else.
A little breathless, he muttered, “I gotta go.”
I nodded as much as his hold would allow.
“Stay as long as you want.”
I nodded again.
“You get off work, you come straight here.”
I didn’t know if it was the dissipating fog of my orgasm, the feel of his cock still inside of me, the possessive but gentle way he held me, or the manner in which those brown eyes seemed to be admiring me with warmth I was beginning to understand resided inside this man—but one or maybe all of the above made me more docile than I thought possible.
I didn’t fight it. I didn’t want to.
I merely replied, “Okay.”
One word, two syllables, and he was smiling.
Damn, but it made me want to smile, too.
We were doing this. It was real and it was happening.
“Twister?” I breathed, moving my hands to grab two fistfuls of his shirt.
“Sparky?”
I glared at him, but my heart wasn’t in it, and I knew he could tell.
“You and me.” I paused, not sure how else to label us; not sure we needed anything more—except for one thing. “No one else, right?”
His expression suddenly void of any humor, he nodded and semi-echoed, “You and me. No one else.”
“When’s the last time you got yourself checked,” I asked matter-of-factly.
He didn’t even flinch before he replied, “Go every six months like clockwork. I’m due for a check-up in a couple of weeks. You want me to handle that sooner, consider it done.”
I stared at him for a moment, unable to deny the awe I felt. He made it seem so effortless. All of it.
“Make it quick, brown-eyes.”
He smirked at me, pressed a quick kiss against my mouth, then trailed his hand down my neck and over my collarbone, until he had a palm-full of my breast. He squeezed, then let me go and pulled away.
I watched as he worked his jeans over his backside before he strutted off and disappeared into the bathroom.
Still recovering from what we’d just done, I was right where he left me when he came back—his dick stowed, his fly zipped, and his kutte donned.
He winked at me, jerked his chin, then headed for the garage.
When I was all alone, I covered my face with my hands, hiding my wild grin from no one but myself.