15. Furious Kitten Look
FURIOUS KITTEN LOOK
EXTON
Fuck!
“Oh, fuck,” I say, fisting my hands into the comforter at my sides, where I sit watching her bob on my cock while she sucks me deep.
She slips off with a wet pop and scolds me, “You need to be quiet, or I’ll stop. We can’t have the whole house hearing.” She grins and drops her head back to my erection, sucking and licking, and watching me while she does.
It’s everything I can do to keep my eyes open. It’s everything else I can do not to release at the look on her face and the sounds she’s making. The blow job is phenomenal. But when she grabs my balls while sucking me deep and starts to hum, I’m done. It’s the trifecta.
“I’m going to—” She swallows, rubbing me against the back of her throat, taunting me.
When she does it a second time, I let go.
I can’t stop the groan that erupts from my throat, and I move, lifting her and placing her on the bed, yanking off those ridiculous jeans.
I crawl on top of her, using my knees to widen her legs and stare at her pussy before reaching for a condom in the nightstand. Seeing it fully stocked makes me laugh.
“What?”
“Nothing. Tell you later.”
I grab the foil packet while I fist my cock. Willa, laid out before me, legs wide, knees cocked, the talons of her dragon peeking at me from under her tee, is enough.
“Take off your shirt.”
She begins, but grimaces, so I lift it up over her tits and move her bra with it. Those full globes taunt me, and my stroking becomes unnecessary. I slide on the condom and position at her entrance, wetting the tip of my dick, and whetting my appetite even more.
“You’re going to have to talk to me. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She nods, but quickly replies instead, “Okay.”
“What do you want?”
“You. Your cock.”
I press inside, moving so slow it nearly kills me, but the look on her face, the pleasure and ecstasy, is worth the discipline it takes to make that happen. I pull out just as slowly, watching her face morph into bliss as her eyes heat and her nipples harden.
I repeat the motion, watching my dick slide inside her little by little until she takes all of me, and withdrawing just as slowly, twisting my hips as I do.
“Exton,” she begs.
“Yes, dragon slayer?”
“You need to speed up so I don’t die… or slay you.”
I pound in, taking her as deeply and forcefully as I can without worrying about her head or neck. I watch my cock slide in and out, getting impossibly harder with each thrust and glide.
“Look at me, Exton.”
I snap my gaze to Willa’s face before looking to where we’re joined again.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
“Exton?”
When I look into her eyes, I see the same heat and desire that I know are reflected in mine. But the intimacy, the connection, the way she looks right through me is new. It may be even too much.
She sees me.
It’s unnerving.
She comes, stretching her neck, arching her back, never leaving my gaze as she does. And the look in her eyes sends me over the edge.
I clean up and crawl back onto the bed, flipping the covers over us even though we’re both too warm for it. I slide behind her, forming my chest to her back, and snake an arm up her belly to rest between her tits.
“You going to tell me about your dragon?”
“Later.”
“And the new one on your hand?”
“Not just yet.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I trust you, but this is moving so quickly. I’m just…” She pauses, her body going stiff. “Wait. Back up. My thoughts have been so muddled. Start from the beginning.”
“Which beginning?”
“How did you find me?”
“I went to your house. If you were home and ghosting me, I would’ve been pissed, but I would’ve dealt with it.” I pull her tighter into my chest. “But your door was open, and—”
“What?” She tries to sit up, using the force she has until she groans and grabs her head, falling back into the pillow. Her sounds of pain hurt to hear.
“Baby, you need to stay calm.”
“My house is wide open and you want me to stay calm? You know that’s ridiculous, right?”
“I do.” I roll her to her back and lie on my side, head propped on my hand, other hand still skimming her stomach and chest.
“I mean—”
I lean over and kiss her. It’s not passionate; it’s purposeful. I need her to listen.
“If that’s all it takes to shut you up…” I leave it dangling because the furious kitten look is enough to make me laugh.
“Jon sent the police to barricade your door and to put police tape up to keep people away. I had a handyman there this morning to replace it. New keys are on your keychain.”
“Speaking of—how did you get my car?”
“I’m a secret spy for our government. You can’t question my tactics.”
“You are not. That’s CIA. You’re FBI.” She looks at me and drops her hand over her eyes. “I have so many questions.”
“We’ll get there. But, Willa?” I move her hand from across her eyes.
She opens her mouth to speak, and I kiss her quickly before placing one finger there. Her eyes turn to slits as she takes in my quieting her.
“Track with me. After your ‘accident’ and more than fifteen hours before Jackie’s flight, your house was broken into and nothing disturbed. That doesn’t sit right. Do you have any idea who would target you?”
She shakes her head, but she bites her bottom lip. Her eyes show worry.
“You understand why I am asking?”
Tears stream down her cheeks. She closes her eyes and turns her head away.
Willa
“Baby, we can figure this out.” It’s kind of him to say, but that’s a hollow promise.
His fingers stroke my belly, up and over my ribs, then my waist. It’s not sexual or sensual. It’s a touch. It’s familiar.
I close my eyes and try to piece together the puzzle I’ve been handed over the last couple of days. It hasn’t been forty-eight hours, and I can’t see the big picture.
“So, Jackie flies in Wednesday. We go to the bar for her Instagram shout-out. See Jon. Meet you. Have average food and overpriced drinks. They leave. We leave. Have phenomenal, mind-blowing sex. Have real food with the four of us.”
“Go back to the ‘phenomenal, mind-blowing sex’ for a moment.” Exton grins, his mouth aiming for mine.
But I continue, “Say goodbye. Sleep. Have coffee then brunch at another trendy, promo place. Get cornered by Paul—”
“Who’s Paul?”
“My ex. He cornered me at the brunch place when Jackie and I were finishing up. We argued and he left.”
“Where does he live? What’s his address?”
“You don’t need to investigate him. He doesn’t even live here. He lives in… Dallas.” I turn my eyes to lock on his and go on in a rush, “He’s shown up only once since we split. It was… unpleasant, and that’s putting it politely. I told him I’d file a restraining order if he showed again.”
“And he cornered you? What did he say?”
I replay the brunch conversation. The look on his face says his gears are turning way faster than mine are.
“Then what?”
I tell him about our trip to the shop and everything I remember until waking up on the sidewalk.
“Exton?” My voice goes quiet. He holds my gaze. “I thought I heard Paul before the ambulance got there. The person who stayed with me until the ambulance came had a very familiar voice. Too similar. But I never saw his face.”
His body goes still, including his hand. “Anything else?”
“Are you mad at me?”
His gaze meets mine, and there’s anger there, but it’s different. It’s the wrong shade. If anger is red, this is crimson. “Willa, I’m pissed as fuck, but not at you.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
He rolls over me, propped on his elbows, legs caging mine in. “Don’t apologize for telling the truth. Ever.” The statement is weighty.
“I…” I avert my eyes, staring at his earlobe.
“Eyes,” he says, commanding me to look at him. “Don’t lie to me. And don’t apologize for the truth. You have no idea how refreshing it is to have someone shoot me straight.”
“Your family does that with you… for you.” My voice comes out as a whisper.
“Yeah. But I’m asking it from you.” He slowly lowers and takes my mouth.
His tongue pushes past my lips, but it doesn’t take much coaxing.
He takes me deep and surrounds me, his warmth settling on my skin.
There’s meaning in his kiss. When he pushes up, he holds my gaze.
“You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met. And I want more. ”
“There’s not much I wouldn’t give you, Exton Ranger.”
The smile that breaks across his face is wide and white and makes my belly drop to my toes.
“Not that I don’t want to keep you in bed all day, because there’s nothing higher on my list than you naked, in bed, with nothing but time to play and explore, but I think we should get out of here.”
“We have all night,” I say, tilting my head as though considering it. “I mean, if you want to play and explore.”
The heat that flares in his eyes and the warm length I feel on my belly are enough to make me giddy.
He stands, grabbing my hand and tugging me off the bed, dropping my tee over my breasts, but tweaking a nipple on the way down. “Something to think about.”
“Promises, promises,” I retort.
We leave the house, but instead of heading to the barn, we head for Kimpton’s oversized garage where there’s a four-wheeler golf car contraption.
We climb on and Exton leaves the building, rolling past the stables and down a gentle slope heading toward the sun.
We ride in silence for a few minutes under blue skies with their wispy white clouds.
Trees are starting to bud and the verdant greens call to me.
The yellows in the grass are shot through with new growth.
And down the path, a cluster of Japanese magnolias are aflame with royal purple, warm rose, and the palest blush pink.
“Stop.”
He does and studies me curiously. “Is your phone with you? May I see it?”
He slides it from his pocket and presses it into my palm.
I open the camera and play with the settings before snapping several pics of the blooms—their colors and textures, the way they melt and streak into one another, the delicacy of their inner parts.
I snap shots of the branches reaching for the sun, little shoots stretching and pushing from the safety of their homes.
I must be here a while, studying the colors and shapes, the composition, because two warm hands settle on my shoulders. He sweeps my hair over a shoulder, placing a kiss under my ear, whispering, “Where’d you go?”
“I fell into the color. I want to paint this or tat it in watercolor. I want to recreate the soft grain lines and the buds that are fighting to push open.”
I look down at the shots on the phone and begin texting them to myself. I see Dragon Slayer pop up as they’re sent. He’s called me that, but to be saved that way is something else. And that something else is warm and gooey like undercooked brownies with extra chocolate chips.
I slide his phone back to him. “Where’s my phone?”
“Isn’t it in your purse?”
I shake my head. “My bag was in my hospital room and held my wallet and stuff, but my phone wasn’t there.”