Chapter Eighteen #3
My fingers disappear beneath the leg of those tiny shorts and brush over the damp fabric between her thighs.
Her breath catches.
“All that from winning?” I murmur against her neck.
“Maybe.”
I rub my thumb slowly over her through her panties. “Liar.”
Her hips push against my hand. “You gonna interrogate me or do something useful?”
“Deputy, this is extremely useful.”
“Whiskey.”
“Yeah?” She puts a hand over my mouth, so I bite her palm.
She yanks it away. “Asshole.”
She grabs my shirt and pulls me closer. “I like this.”
“This?”
Her hips press against mine. “This.”
“Coward.”
“What?”
“Couldn’t say me.”
Her fingers stop at my belt.
Got her.
Twila’s eyes narrow. “You fishing for reassurance now?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s adorable.”
“Take it back.”
I kiss her before she can say sweet.
“No.”
My hand slides fully beneath her top and cups her breast while her fingers get my belt open.
She drags the zipper down and palms me through my underwear.
“Fuck.”
I bury the sound against her mouth.
My fingers push beneath her panties, finding her wet and hot enough that every intelligent thought leaves my head.
“Still jealous?” she whispers.
“Ask me when my fingers ain’t in your pussy.”
Her teeth catch my lower lip. “Possessive bastard.”
“You keep saying that like it ain’t getting you off.”
“Maybe it is.”
My hand stops.
“What?”
She smiles.
“Nothing.”
“Say it again.”
“No.”
“Twila.”
Her hand slides inside my underwear.
“Maybe I like you jealous.”
Fuck.
I kiss her hard.
“Dangerous confession.”
“You’re the one who said you’re mine.”
“Starting to think.”
“Too late.”
Before I can answer, Twila slides off the folded mats.
I expect her to stand.
She doesn’t.
She drops to her knees.
My entire brain stops.
“Deputy.”
She looks up while opening my jeans wider.
“Problem?”
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“You were fishing for reassurance.”
“Pretty sure I got it.”
“I’m thorough.”
She drags my underwear down.
My cock comes free inches from her mouth.
“Twila.”
“Still talking.”
Her tongue touches the underside of the head.
My hand slams against the shelving behind me.
Boxes rattle.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
She smiles.
Then takes me into her mouth.
Fuck me.
Her lips close around my cock while one hand grips my thigh and the other works the base.
I look down.
Big mistake.
Twila Dix is on her knees in wrestling boots and tiny fucking shorts with my cock in her mouth, blue-gray eyes looking straight up at me like she knows she has me by the throat without touching anything above my waist.
“Fuck.”
She takes me deeper.
My hips jerk once.
I immediately lock them down.
“Sorry.”
She pulls off.
“For what?”
“Moved.”
“I can handle you moving.”
“Woman.”
“Biker.”
Her mouth closes around me again.
This time when my hips move, she lets them.
Not much.
Enough.
Her tongue works the underside while her fist moves with her mouth, and I’m suddenly very fucking aware this room has no windows and one locked door and half the town is probably thirty feet away.
Should concern me.
Doesn’t.
My hand slides into her hair.
“Tell me if I pull too hard.”
She hums around my cock.
My knees nearly buckle.
“That was not an answer.”
Twila pulls back.
“I’ll tell you.”
Then she takes me deep enough to make my eyes close.
“Fuck.”
Her hand moves faster.
My balls draw tight.
Too close.
Way too fucking close.
I catch her shoulder.
“Twila.”
She keeps going.
“Baby.”
That stops her.
Her eyes lift.
I’m breathing like I just fought three men.
“You keep doing that, this ends with you swallowing and me being useless for the next five minutes.”
She licks the head slowly.
“Maybe that was the plan.”
“Mean little thing.”
“Thought you liked mean.”
“Love mean.”
I pull her gently to her feet.
She looks offended.
“I wasn’t finished.”
“Neither am I.”
Her eyes darken.
I turn her toward the folded mats.
Twila looks over her shoulder.
“You about to prove that first-flat-surface threat?”
“You offering?”
She plants both hands on the mats and pushes her ass back against me.
I close my eyes.
“Jesus.”
“Yes or no, Whiskey?”
My eyes open.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She reaches back, catches my wrist, and pulls my hand to the waistband of her shorts.
“Then quit admiring the view.”
“Can do both.”
I drag those ridiculous wrestling shorts down just far enough to expose her ass, panties coming with them.
Twila bends farther over the mats.
I have to grip the edge of the shelving for one second so I don’t lose my fucking mind.
“You wear these shorts around other men.”
“Here we go.”
“Just establishing facts.”
“You survived Rhett.”
“Barely.”
“Want a medal?”
“Want something else.”
I smack her ass.
Not hard.
Enough to make her look back.
“Whiskey.”
“Too much?”
Her mouth curves.
“Not even close.”
Fuck me.
I reach into the inside pocket of my cut and pull out a condom.
Twila looks back again. “You started carrying extras?”
“Blonde problem.”
“Asshole.”
I tear the wrapper open and roll it on. Then I step behind her and run one hand between her thighs.
Still wet.
Wetter.
“You ready?”
“You really asking after I had your dick in my mouth?”
“Yeah.”
Her expression changes.
Softer for half a beat.
Then filthy again.
“Yes. Fuck me.”
That’s all I need.
I line myself up and push inside.
Twila’s fingers curl into the edge of the mat.
“Oh, fuck.”
I stop once I’m fully in her.
Every muscle in my body is fighting the urge to move.
“Good?”
“Whiskey.”
“Good?”
She pushes backward onto my cock.
“That clear enough?”
“Getting convincing.”
Then I fuck her.
Hard.
Not bedroom hard.
Not careful, trying-not-to-wake-the-kid hard.
Storage-room door locked, music thumping through the walls, jealous enough to bite hard.
Every thrust drives her forward against the folded mats.
Twila pushes back just as hard.
“That all the jealousy you got?”
I grip her hips.
“You trying to piss me off while I’m inside you?”
“Working?”
I thrust harder.
Her laugh turns into a moan.
“Little bit.”
“Thought so.”
I lean over her, one hand braced beside hers while my mouth finds her ear.
“You like knowing I wanted to drag that asshole’s hand off you?”
“Maybe.”
“Like knowing I watched you beat the shit out of somebody and still wanted you?”
She turns her head enough that her mouth brushes mine.
“Maybe.”
“Coward.”
Her hand reaches back and catches the side of my neck.
“I like you wanting me exactly how I am.”
That shuts me the fuck up.
For about two seconds.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I kiss her.
Slower than the fucking.
Somehow that makes it worse.
“Good,” I say against her mouth. “Because I ain’t interested in the smaller version.”
She pushes back hard enough to make me swear.
“Then keep up.”
Woman is going to kill me.
I straighten and slide one hand around her hip.
My fingers find her clit.
Twila jolts.
“Oh.”
“There?”
“Don’t get smug.”
I circle again.
Her head drops.
“There.”
I keep the rhythm with my hand while I fuck her from behind.
She starts getting tighter around me.
Fuck.
I know that feeling now.
“Come on.”
“Don’t order me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
My fingers move faster.
“Come because you wanna prove you can beat me again.”
She laughs breathlessly.
“That’s manipulation.”
“Working?”
“Fuck you.”
“Currently.”
She comes apart around me.
Hard.
Her body clamps down on my cock while her fingers claw into the mats and my name breaks out of her.
I keep moving through it.
Can’t fucking stop.
Her pussy keeps pulsing around me, dragging me closer every time I thrust.
“Twila.”
She reaches back and catches my hip.
“Come on, biker.”
Fuck.
I follow her.
My hips drive deep and stay there while I come, forehead dropping between her shoulder blades as every muscle in my body goes rigid.
For a few seconds the only sound in the room is both of us trying to breathe.
Then Twila says, “Still jealous?”
I laugh against her back.
“Violently.”
“Good.”
“Menace.”
“Your menace.”
My head lifts.
She glances over her shoulder.
Realizes what she said.
Her eyes widen just slightly.
“Interesting,” I say.
“Don’t.”
“Didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
I pull out carefully, deal with the condom, tie it off, and drop it into the little trash can beside the utility shelf.
Twila fixes her panties and drags her shorts back over her hips.
I’m still fastening my jeans when somebody pounds on the storage-room door.
We both freeze.
I close my eyes.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
A voice calls, “Twister?”
Not Daddy.
Thank Christ.
“You’re up for photos in ten.”
Twila clears her throat.
“Got it.”
Footsteps move away.
I look at her.
She starts laughing.