Chapter 31
LAWSON
Strawberry blonde occludes my vision when I wake up Saturday morning.
Warmth pressed against my body. My cock is now rock fucking hard for the woman in my arms. I plant a kiss into her hair, careful to be gentle and not wake her.
After our first time—which will be stored in my memories for a lifetime—we had another and another. As if making up for lost time.
We both stopped counting after the third round.
But my girl has a healthy flush on her pretty damn cheeks, and the fact I put it there may just be one of my proudest moments.
“Mhmmmm.” She rolls over in my arms.
I toss the blanket over our heads as she blinks awake, her perfect body pressing against mine. God, what I wouldn’t do to devour those perfect fucking tits right now.
“Morning, Princess.”
“Mornin’, Cowboy,” she drawls.
I chuckle and roll her onto her back. She looks up at me. Her big brown eyes are an abyss of emotion. From surprise, to need, to adoration.
“Breakfast time, my girl.” I cage her in, nudging her chin up with my nose as I kiss her neck.
“Great, I’m starving.”
“Me too.”
I travel down her soft-as-fuck skin, dotting kisses as I go.
“God, Laws, you’re insatiable.”
I chuckle against her skin, which makes her writhe with a giggle. Her hands shoot down, gripping my shoulders. The sheet covers us both, and in our makeshift tent, she peers down at me. “God, I want to. So badly. But I have to get my errands done before Mills gets home. Rain check?”
I drop my head to her belly with a groan.
“We’ll have heaps of time later, I promise.” Her hands run through my hair.
“Just one taste?” I beg.
My cock is aching to be wrapped in this sweet pussy. But if I can give her one moment to keep her satisfied throughout the day, I will.
“Fine,” she breathes. “Only a taste, I’ve got to get ho—”
I sweep my tongue through her center.
She spreads her legs like her soaked pussy is my goddamn smorgasbord. And it fucking is.
I suckle her clit, then lick her entrance before concentrating over her sweet, sensitive nub. I pop my head up, licking my lips. “All good now.”
“Oh . . . no.” Grabby hands shove my shoulders down, hips bucking up in a pleading motion.
The smile that cracks my face is ridiculous.
It’s just too easy, Princess. And I fully intend on giving her an orgasm before she leaves my apartment to start her day.
“More, baby?” I rasp.
Her whimper as she fondles her breasts is all I need. I dive in, sending my tongue deep into her pretty little cunt, pinching her clit with my fingers while the other hand pushes two digits deep inside her.
With a few strokes into her tight pussy, I have her writhing on the bed.
So . . . I take it all away and push up onto my elbows.
“What? No!” She snaps up off the bed, leaning on her elbows.
“Something wrong?” I raise an eyebrow.
I’m an asshole, I know. But I love seeing her needy as fuck for me. This strong, incredible woman who folds for me. It’s damn addicting.
“You want it, you sit on my face,” I say with a growl.
“No, I can—” She frowns, chest heaving. “Please, just give me more, Laws.”
I shake my head and crawl up the bed. Caging her in, I sweep an arm under her and flip us over.
“Now, on my face.”
She searches my expression for a beat before moving up the bed on her knees.
“Hands on the headboard, Princess.”
“O—kay.”
I knead her ass with my hands. She moans but doesn’t lower her soaked pussy.
“Are you sure?” she whispers.
“Down. Now.”
She doesn’t move, and I slap her ass. Hard.
“Oh fuck,” she breathes.
I grip her hips and plant her pussy over my mouth.
Which earns me a whimpered, “Oh fu-uck. Laws . . .”
I would tell her she’s a good girl, but my mouth is full. In the best fucking way possible.
I suckle, lick, and fuck her tight cunt with my tongue. Slowly, she starts to rock her hips, her hands sliding over the headboard.
I lap at her entrance, and her chest caves.
I bite down on her clit, and she cries out.
I suckle the sting away, and she screams my name.
I rim her entrance with a finger, and when I feel the first flutter of her pussy, I slide two fingers inside, curling them forward.
The sweet sounds that tumble from her parted lips as she comes all over my damn face will keep me hard for weeks. I’ll never be able to top this moment. Her first time on my face. Big brown doe eyes looking down, holding my gaze, as she falls apart above me.
Fucking priceless.
Fucking priceless, Princess.
Dex and Griff run ahead as we make our way around Central Park. The only reason those two run is so they can drink on the weekends. Never having wanted for a thing save the silver spoon in their mouths they grew up on, the boys are down-to-earth, considering their massive wealth.
When we first met in college, Miles, me, and the brothers, I was always waiting for the penny to drop. For them to realize that, unlike the three of them, I’m not from money. At least not from their caliber of coin.
“Catch up, Rawlins.” Dexter glances over his shoulder.
“Why are you so slow this morning?” Griff spins, running backward before tilting his head in an exaggerated thinking pose.
“Oh yeah, that’s right. Our boy got laid,” Dex yells back.
Fuck me.
“Leave him alone, you dipshits.” Miles’s voice booms from behind, his footfalls pounding the track as he closes in. I slow a little, looking back to find him winding through the other runners.
“Where’d you come from, bud?” I ask as he catches up.
We hit an equal stride, and he grins at me.
“Not you, too,” I rasp.
“Never. I, unlike those ingrates, am happy for you. ’Bout fucking time.”
The smile breaking over my lips as I pant to keep up his stride would put the Joker to shame.
Miles slaps me on the shoulder. “Saw you lot fly past. Starting without me these days, are we?”
“Nah, bud. Never.” But my grin doesn’t slip.
“Fucker,” he huffs and leaves me in the dust.
Ass.
I pick up the pace and catch them all before overtaking them as we reach the starting point. I pace a few laps before heading for the food cart and grabbing a water.
“What took you so long?” I quip when Griff files in by the truck, holding his side like his once-a-week run isn’t railing him with a stitch right now. Dexter flails to a stop by his brother. “Remind me why we do this every fucking weekend?”
Miles strides over, cool as a goddamn cucumber with his ridiculous firefighter fitness. “Got to keep you in line somehow, Dex.”
“Would you please go and stand over there,” Dex says, waving him away. “How are any of us supposed to get laid with your man candy ass hanging around?”
Miles chuckles and messes up Dex’s hair with his oversized hand, flexing forearm, and bulging biceps. Hell, Dex has a point, bu—
“You’re out, too, Rawlins. You two both stand somewhere else while we wait for the rest of the running babes to come in.” Dex is still waving us off, his brother rolling his eyes as he checks his phone. “Come on, track tramps. Lycra ladies. Jogging jezebels.”
It’s all a joke, we know that. The guy doesn’t have a serious bone in his body. I’m guessing he really needs to ge—
Miles pins him with a look we can all read, one that means Dex has gone too far. “Disrespect. Yeah, that’ll get you laid every time. Cut it out, Dexter.”
Dex holds his hands up in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture. A sheepish look crosses his face before he schools it back to his usual goofy expression. Sometimes I wonder what woman would take him on. He’s kind of a lot.
“Sorry, Dad.” Dexter wanders off to the drink truck and grabs a Gatorade.
“Come on, Laws, let’s leave these two. Give me a hand holding down the sofa?”
“Sure thing.”
I wave to Griff, who barely glances up from his phone, his face twisted by concern.
He manages to nod, and we hike it five blocks to Miles’s apartment.
As a member of FDNY Engine 53, his new apartment is closer to work.
And a touch larger than mine. We take the stairs to the third floor. He unlocks the door, letting us in.
“Want a drink?” His head disappears into the refrigerator.
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks.” I wander around the apartment.
“So, spill it.” He thumps my shoulder with his enormous mitt before flopping on the sofa. I swear the thing groans.
“What’s to tell, bud?”
“You and devil woman?”
“Her name’s Carlie, Miles.”
He huffs a laugh and smiles. “That’s all I need to know.” He sips his drink and points the remote at the television. A ball game flicks onto the screen.
“Oh, our station received an invitation to a Christmas gala for Serenity. Nice work. Our crew is off that night, we’ll all be there. Your family coming?”
My mouth gapes.
Carlie.
Carlie and Rubes.
But most likely Carlie, since—
“Hold up. Are you only going to hit on Rubes?”
“So, she will be there.”
“Don’t, bud.”
“Would never. But the second she’s done with that little brother of yours . . .”
“Ain’t going to happen. Now who needs to get laid?”
“I talk a good game, but I’m no home-wrecker, Laws. I’m happy for her. I am.”
You would think those two grew up together, the way he talks about her. But he’s known her as long as I have, less a few months, I suppose. Her first visit back here after she and Reed became a thing, they met.
They hit it off instantly. Been friends ever since.
Miles is a good friend to have, so I won’t begrudge Rubes that.
I sip my water, and he chuckles, returning to the game.
Shithead.
Sunday comes and goes, and Monday is here before I am ready to acknowledge its existence. The only perk of a workday is spending hours with Carlie. She’s been busy with Mills coming home, and I didn’t want to take away from their time together.
She loves that little old lady like her own grandma.
In truth, she’s growing on me. A bundle of baked goods and some Miami trinkets arrived at my door Sunday night. And when Carlie texted me a few minutes after the delivery, I couldn’t stop smiling.
Millie feels like family.
Carlie feels like—
“Mornin’, Cowboy.” She wanders in, her bag hanging off one arm. Her coat is over the other, her heels wet from the first snowfall. I’m guessing she didn’t drive today.
“Morning, Princess.”
She glances at the open door to our office and turns back to shut it. Now I wish we weren’t walled in with glass. Because the way her black skirt suit hugs her curves, the sway of her damn hips . . .
I’m closing the distance between us before the blood supply can resurface to my brain. Halting just before I end up backing her into the wall and covering her body with mine, I divert, leaning over and gripping the edge of her desk as she sinks into her office chair.
“You okay?” she asks.
Fuck, she smells incredible.
“Yeah,” I choke. Who am I kidding . . . I’m sporting a raging hard-on at work, and the entire staff floor is now bearing witness to my lack of self-control.
“Lawson, sit. I’ll email you.”
I open my mouth to protest, but instead, I peel myself away from the only fucking thing I’ve ever wanted this damn bad and force my ass into my chair. I open the laptop, adjusting my crotch as I do.
“Open your Gmail, Laws,” she says softly.
“What?” I snap my eyes up to where she’s tapping on her laptop.
“Not your work account, okay?”
Okay . . .
I bring up my Gmail account. She rises from her chair and walks to my desk with a pink sticky note. If I was hard before, now I’m concrete.
Her email address is on the note.
thecowboysprincess@
I tap out a hello and send it off.
I huff a strained chuckle with the little air left in my lungs. If this is what fucking this woman and then leaving her for two days feels like, then . . .
My email pings.
Heat slips down my spine as I read her email.
Hello Cowboy,
I missed you. Fuck, I missed you like four or five times in the shower last night. Then one more this morning before I even made it out of bed.
Your Princess.
Fuck me.
“Yes, please,” she whispers.
Hell, I said that out loud?
I tap out a reply.
Hey Princess,
This is going to be damn hard, working across from you for hours and not touching you. Not tasting you, baby. Longest workday ever, hands down.
Your Cowboy.
Hmmm,
Well, you get break times, don’t you? I’ve never had sex on a copier before . . .
Princess.
Christ.
I tap out a reply, my keystrokes so uncontrolled my desk shakes.
Princess,
You will be the death of me. But yes, copier sex would be a first for me also. Just curious . . . Where else?
Cowboy.
P.S.
I hope your panties are soaked because you have me rock fucking hard, woman.
She huffs a little giggle, and it goes straight to my damn balls.
Sweet Jesus.
Brown eyes burn into mine from over her laptop. And then she drags her bottom lip through her teeth as if she’s considering something.
Hands gripping the arms of my office chair, I stifle a groan.
She must pick up on my tension, because her lips part, and she moans a sweet little noise. She shrugs her jacket off, leaving the pale silk blouse molded over her perfect fucking tits.
I push the laptop away as my forehead hits the desk.
Jesus fucking Christ, woman.