Chapter 51
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Showerin' wasn't as nice as bein' bathed by my viper, but she'd run off to the supermarket.
She'd said I needed soup.
It was eighty-eight degrees out today.
And I wasn't sick.
I didn't need no soup.
But she was feelin' a bit raw after Denny's visit, even if she wouldn't say it.
She may have told me she was okay, but that didn't mean I didn't stand there with my ear pressed to the door like a teenager spyin' on their parents.
I was ready to step in the moment the conversation went sideways. But Denny said his piece, then he was gone.
Good riddance—to him, and Wyatt fuckin' Cole.
I toweled off and was workin' the arm attached to my fucked shoulder into a shirt when I heard the telltale sign of Doc Martens clompin' up the stairs. I froze, one arm through the sleeve of my tee, face covered by the fabric, and the other arm lookin' like a chicken wing tryin' to fly away.
The stompin' stopped shortly thereafter but was quickly followed by a snort of laughter.
"Need a little help there, boy scout?"
"Do not laugh at me, woman. I am injured."
I could only make out the shape of her through the gray material between us, but she was makin' her way toward me. Her fingertips grazed the skin of my stomach, and my dick was instantly hard.
That's all it took with my viper.
Fingertips.
"I got you," she whispered, her impossibly soft hands movin' over my body. With the amount of manual labor the woman did, they oughta have been rough as sandpaper. She tugged my shirt over my head, stretchin' the fabric to wiggle my arm through the sleeve hole.
Then she slid her hands lower to the very obvious tent in my gym shorts. She gripped my shaft and stroked me slowly through the material.
"Need anything else?" Damn siren was usin' her sex voice on me, and I was in no shape to fuck her senseless. It'd been less than a week since I'd last had her, but I wanted to fuck her into oblivion. Show her how good it would be for forever since that was how long I'd beg her to stay.
"I, uh—" I cleared my throat. Swallowed hard. "I don't know if I can really—"
"Don't worry, baby," she said, raisin' up onto her tiptoes to kiss me softly, gently, and far too quickly. "I'll take care of you."
She advanced on me, my dick still in her hand, which forced me back a few steps. My knees hit the back of the bed and I dropped to sit on instinct.
"Lie back."
I did as she asked, feet planted firmly on the floor and eyes planted firmly on her. She undressed for me slowly and my cock throbbed. There was a small spot formin' on my royal blue shorts that was turnin' more of a navy color with how wet it was gettin'. I was leakin' like a busted faucet.
In the six days since I'd had my dick inside her, I hadn't once jerked it. Didn't feel right when she was pissed at me. And I didn't want my hand.
I wanted hers.
Or her mouth.
Or her cunt.
Or her ass.
Or her tits.
When she was completely bare and I was salivatin' like a man starved, she spread my knees and stepped between them. Hingin' at the hips, she braced one hand on the bed and used the other to slide the hem of my shirt up.
I didn't wanna complain.
Fuck, I was so hard and horny and I wanted her somethin' fierce, but—
"We just got that shirt on, baby."
It came out as more of a whine than anything.
"I'm not takin' it off. Just movin' it outta the way."
She kept adjustin' the shirt until the pretty patch of blue and black and purple bruises was uncovered.
Then she pressed her lips gently to the skin there.
I dropped my head back to the bed and closed my eyes. Her featherlight kisses healed more than time and rest ever would.
"I'm so"—her voice cracked—"sorry he did this, Brody."
I sifted my fingers through her hair and gripped just tight enough to have her pullin' back and lookin' up.
"It ain't your fault." Hopefully, between my tone and my glare, she took this shit seriously. "Only one person accountable for Wyatt Cole's actions, and that's Wyatt Cole. Word around town is he tucked tail and run when Hank's cloudy eye landed on him."
She ducked her head, tryin' to hide her smile.
I saw it.
She continued torturin' me with kisses to my ribs when really I wanted kisses on my cock.
What felt like hours but was probably only seconds ticked by.
"Cal, you're killin' me here."
I didn't see her smile, but I felt it against my skin.
She looked up at me through her lashes—which she batted at me—and asked, "What ever do you mean?"
"Oh, cut the shit. You ain't been innocent a day in your life."
"Not since the day Wyatt Cole stole it from me." Her face was stone.
Time stood still. I didn't breathe. Could tell my eyes were buggin' outta my head, but couldn't do a damn thing about it.
Then she cocked her head, and a grin stretched across her perfect mouth. "Too soon?"
I slow blinked and gave myself a little shake. "You for real right now?"
Damn lunatic cackled.
And I loved her so fucking much.
"If I wasn't all bruised and battered from your ex-lover, I'd flip you over and spank the shit outta you for that."
"Oooh," she purred, shiftin' down my body. "I'd like that too much for it to be a true punishment."
Strikin' as fast as the snake she was nicknamed after, she pulled my cock out and had me hittin' the back of her throat.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ." My hips punched up off the bed and with 'em a sharp pain shot through my body. The whimper that left me was half desperation, half pain.
Desperation won out as I fucked into her mouth over and over and over.
She took every.
Single.
One.
"Shit, Calvin, I'm gonna come."
She moaned around me, hand comin' up to squeeze my balls.
"Oh, fuck yeah, viper." I fisted her hair as my soul left my body, right along with a week's worth of cum spillin' down her throat as I kept fuckin' her face. "Don't waste a drop. Jesus."
She licked me clean, like I was a goddamn popsicle, doin' just as I'd asked.
"Atta girl," I said, fingers gentlin' in her hair and softly strokin' the back of her head. "So damn good."
When she was satisfied with the job she'd done, I was harder than ever, given all the lickin' and suckin' she'd carried on with after I'd gone and blown down her throat.
Really, I wanted to fuck her.
No, I wanted to make love to her.
If she'd let me.
But first, I wanted to taste her.
"Get up here. Need that pussy."
She pulled back and I scooted up the bed a bit. Couldn't go far layin' sideways like this, but we'd make do.
Calvin made to straddle my hips, grippin' my cock to guide it to her glistening entrance.
"Nah, baby." I tapped my pointer finger to my lips. "Right here."
She rolled her eyes. "Brody, I'll hurt you."
"Yeah, you will," I stated. "My fragile male feelings if you don't let me lick that sweet cunt."
She tilted her head at me, my cock still in her hand. The look in her eyes was some mix of laughter and love.
God, it was everything—the way she looked at me.
Like I was the fuckin' sun.
"I love you," I blurted.
Her expression changed in an instant. From tender to annoyed, but annoyed with love.
"You're gonna say that all the damn time now, aren't ya?"
"You bet your fine ass I am." I squeezed said ass for emphasis.
"Whatever." She rolled her eyes at me again, but there was a smile on her face as she shook her head. "You gonna eat me out now, or what?"
"You bet your fine ass I am." I grinned while Calvin continued to shake her head. "Now get up here."
"Good to know a little concussion and bruised ribs can't hold you down," she said as she gingerly maneuvered her way around the bed. She had her knees above my shoulders, eyes lookin' up and down my body like she was assessin' the best way to go about the whole thing.
"Nah, baby." I grinned wider. "But you can hold me down. Or tie my up. Anytime. Anyplace."
"Would you shut up?"
"Make me."
She growled and sat on my face.
My shoulder screamed as I moved my hands to grip her hips.
The angle was awkward like this, but I didn't care.
I speared my tongue inside her pussy to taste her, sucked at her clit.
Calvin was grindin' against my face but not a single other bit of her was touchin' a single other bit of me.
I lifted her slightly—not because I was done, but because I needed more.
"Need your hands on me, viper."
"I'll hurt you."
"You won't." I pulled her back to my mouth and devoured her.
Next I knew, one fingertip was tracin' an outline around the nipple on my bad side. It was slow and sexy and—sharply followed by a pinch of the other.
"Owgh," I shouted against her pussy.
Then she was gone and I was reachin' for her and whinin'.
"No, come back."
She came around the bed and resumed the position she'd been in earlier, straddlin' my hips and linin' me up.
She had me notched there, but we both stayed perfectly still.
Our eyes met and held.
Hers were taunting.
Mine were smug—right before I snapped my hips and impaled her on my cock. She let out a sharp cry of surprise that quickly turned into moans of pleasure as I fucked up into her. Her head fell back, tits bouncin' as I thrust harder and harder.
Then suddenly, I was fuckin' spent.
Turned out, strenuous activity was not recommended shortly followin' a concussion.
I was breathless and sweating.
"Shit, Cal, I'm sorry. Think I may have overdid it a bit there."
She smiled at me, brow raised. "Ya think?"
She moved her hips in small, slow circles, and fuck, it felt good.
I closed my eyes and surrendered to the feel of the woman I loved ridin' my cock.
"Hey," she said softly. I opened my eyes and hers were glassy. "Eyes on me when I make love to you, Brody Lancaster."
I nodded and kept my gaze fixed to her as my eyes flooded.
It wasn't an I love you.
Didn't need one last night, didn't need one today.
But it was a helluva lot more than I ever thought I'd hear from her perfect lips.
Then she did exactly what she said she would.
We made love, soft and slow, until we were both orgasm-drunk and spent.
Then we napped in the middle of a Sunday afternoon.
Despite the fact that I was concussed and beat to hell, it was the best damn day of my life.