Chapter 12

Dildos are great, vibrators are fun.

But if you really want a good time,

nothing beats Mig’s tongue.

-Annie to Tasha

Annie

I didn’t see Mig that night.

Or the next night.

I did, however, have my babysitters.

This time it was Casten.

I didn’t know him as well.

“You look tense,” I said, looking over at him after he’d shimmied in his seat for the fourth time in less than ten minutes.

“Caught a right hook to the kidney, and my back’s been bothering me ever since,” he grumbled, rubbing his back with his hand.

I walked over to my table that I’d just cleaned after a visit and patted it.

“Come here and let me work out the knot,” I ordered.

He looked skeptical.

“What?” I asked when he didn’t move.

“I like my kidneys functioning. And if Mig comes in here and sees your hands on me, he’ll make sure they’re not,” he explained humorlessly.

I snorted and pulled out my phone, pulling up the number I’d snatched from Griffin’s phone.

Mig hadn’t given me his number, and I hadn’t thought to use it until now.

I didn’t want to come off as one of those nagging women.

So I’d tamped down my urges and left the phone out of my reach.

Now, though, seemed like an okay time to use it.

I quickly punched out a text and set it on the table.

Casten read the text, and snorted.

Me: Casten won’t let me touch him without your permission.

The phone chimed within thirty seconds.

Mig: That’s because he’s a smart man. What’s wrong with him?

Me: His back hurts. Will you let me massage him?

Mig: As long as you promise to return the favor…only give me the sexier version later when I come to your house.

I smiled and showed him the text, and he got up, shucking his shirt off as he moved to the table.

I barely suppressed the breath of air that my lungs wanted to suck in.

Casten was scarred.

Badly.

My sister would go crazy over him.

She had a thing for wounded souls, and there was no way that with the scars marking his body, that Casten wasn’t a wounded soul.

“What happened?” I asked carefully, picking up a bottle of lotion.

Casten shot me a wary glance.

“Roadside bomb,” he answered shortly, laying onto his belly.

I walked up to the table and was just about to place my hands on Casten’s back, but he jackknifed up off the table.

“I changed my mind. I think he wasn’t being serious about allowing me to get a massage. I don’t want to die,” he said quickly.

“Fine,” I laughed, moving away from him. “I’ll just go play on Facebook while you sit there and hurt.”

Casten snorted and sat up, his face set in a grimace as he did.

I washed my hands free of lotion in the sink, then picked up my phone.

My eyes skimmed over the newsfeed, stopping on a picture of a Spanish hunk.

I don’t care who you are, if you see a sexy picture of a Spanish God on a newsfeed with the caption, ‘Don’t watch this at work’ as the heading, you’re gonna click on it.

I giggled when the man started to speak in Spanish.

I, of course, understood almost instantly what the video was about without even reading the article that was attached to it.

I wouldn’t say I was fluent in Spanish, even though both of my parents were.

But I knew the word for ‘condom.’ ‘sex-ed,’ ‘magnum,’ and ‘erection.’

I mean, didn’t most people?

So without knowing what the entire video was saying, I watched the sexy beast on the screen put on a condom, even though I wasn’t alone in the room.

“Jesus,” I breathed.

The man on the screen had a big dick.

I’m talking huge.

Although, Mig did, too.

Actually, Mig’s cock was probably the same size, if not a small bit larger.

So I watched, captivated, as the man squeezed the condom on over his erection, all the while it never occurred to me once that Casten would be fluent in Spanish and know exactly what was happening on the screen without seeing what was happening.

I watched it two times.

Mostly because I was fascinated with the fact that the guy would do that for a sex-ed class.

Could that be legal?

And would they show that in classrooms?

A noise from across the room had me looking up, not into one pair of amused eyes, but two.

My mouth formed an ‘O.’

“What?” I asked nonchalantly.

“Do you need me to show you how to put on a condom so you don’t have to watch a video?” Casten deadpanned.

Mig growled.

“No, she most certainly does not,” Mig hissed.

Casten snorted. “Then why does she need to watch a video on how to do it? Twice. Shouldn’t her man,” that part was said with a snide look in Mig’s direction. “Be showing her how to do it?”

Mig flipped Casten off.

And I blushed all the way to my roots.

It never occurred to me that I shouldn’t watch the video.

It was right there, waiting to be watched!

I mean, it wasn’t like I had gone to a porn site and watched a man jack off.

But as I listened to the two of them argue over Mig’s failure to educate me, I rolled my eyes.

Then I did what any red-blooded woman would do.

I watched it for a third time.

By the end of it, though, I had both men watching over my back.

“Good form,” Casten said.

Mig snorted.

“What is this?” He asked.

I shrugged, laughing when the guy pulled out a bottle of oil and rubbed it on his condom sheathed cock.

The condom disintegrated.

“Do people actually do that?” Casten asked.

“Apparently, or they wouldn’t be warning people not to do it,” Mig said dryly.

Once the video was over, I backed out of the video, and continued scrolling through my feed, suddenly very self-conscious.

I hadn’t seen Mig since we’d had sex and then he’d had to leave.

He hadn’t even called me.

So what was I?

A fuck buddy? A one-and-done?

A girlfriend?

Inquiring minds wanted to know!

“Alright, since you’re here, I’m going to go,” Casten said. “You gonna be there for dinner tonight?”

“We’ll be there,” Mig agreed quickly.

“We will?” I asked in alarm. “Where are we going?”

I had plans!

Not ones that I couldn’t break, but I didn’t really want to!

“Party at the clubhouse,” Mig answered, looking at me questioningly.

Was I supposed to know about it?

“And?” I asked.

“And you’re going,” he ordered.

I snorted. “If you’d have asked me, I might’ve considered canceling the plans I have with my sister. But not if you’re just going to order me.”

Casten laughed all the way out of my shop.

Mig, however, wasn’t laughing.

His beautiful gray eyes looked even worse when they were mad, and I had the irrational urge to call him Thunder Cloud.

So I did.

“What’s your problem, my little Thunder Cloud?” I asked cheerily.

He took a step toward me, and I pushed back in my rolling chair, scooting about three feet back.

He snorted.

“Don’t call me your little Thunder Cloud,” he said, starting to stalk me now. “And you’re going with me.”

“But I promised my sister we’d do something together tonight. And I’ve canceled on her three times now. I can’t cancel,” I explained, circling around my massage table as fast as I could without tipping myself over onto the ground in a tangle of chair and limbs.

He sighed, as he stopped stalking me; I wasn’t going to let him get close to me until I’d had my say.

“Fine,” he said. “Bring her with you.”

I raised my brow at him.

“You want me to bring my innocent baby sister to a biker party?” I asked.

He grinned, taking a seat on the table.

One foot off the table, while the other was planted on the floor.

“I guess the real question is, do you want me, a newly single man, to be there by myself when you could be there with me?” He challenged.

I stood up and did my own bit of stalking, not stopping until I was inches away from his face.

“My sister’s twenty-five going on eighteen. She doesn’t know when to stop. She gets a wild hair up her ass to dye her hair, then she goes and dyes it fuckin’ tie dye,” I growled. “Do you really want to know what’ll happen with her at a biker party? She’ll fuck Casten, then wind up pregnant, and I’ll be babysitting every night because my sister’s still in nursing school.”

Mig laughed in my face.

“Honey,” he laughed. “Your sister’s a grown adult. You don’t need to keep poking your nose in her business. If she wants to get pregnant by Casten, then let her.”

“There will be no getting pregnant with me. Your sister would have to be drop dead gorgeous and I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole. I’ve sworn off women for the next six months,” Casten growled, stalking into the room.

He stopped at the table, picked up his phone, and then stalked right back out.

I grinned at Mig.

“I’ll be there. So will Tasha,” I said. “You better be ready for Tornado Tasha, because she devours everything in her path.” I hesitated. “And Casten is exactly what she doesn’t need, but everything she wants.”

“You call your sister Tornado Tasha?” Mig asked.

I smiled at him before backing away. “Yes, I do, my little Thunder Cloud.”

He glared. I laughed. He grabbed.

And things digressed from there.

Mostly in the form of Mig leaning me over the side of the table, and then letting his mouth travel down my belly.

I moaned when his lips found the exposed skin of my belly, where my shirt had ridden up.

“I like you in leggings,” he growled, nipping at my belly.

I giggled, pulling my legs up to wrap around his waist.

He came closer willingly, but he shoved my shirt up in the process exposing my breasts to his hungry gaze.

“Knew you weren’t wearing a bra,” he growled. “It’s a good thing Casten refused to get a massage. I don’t like thinking about you pressing your breasts on my brother.”

I laughed breathlessly, but it was quickly choked off when his mouth closed over one nipple.

Then his hands started to move.

One went down South, while the other went to my breast, pinching and rolling my nipple in between his fingers.

My back bowed when his fingers slipped underneath the elastic waist of my leggings, moving right past my panties straight into the depths of my pussy.

Mig switched to the other nipple as he slowly worked one thick finger inside me, pulling it out to rub the wetness he’d drawn from my channel over the small bundle of nerves.

My eyes crossed, and I grabbed onto the first thing I could reach, which happened to be Mig’s ears.

He didn’t seem to mind, though.

Instead, he growled louder as I started to pant.

I’d never particularly liked being fingered.

I hadn’t understood that it was more than just fumbling hands, which was all that Ross seemed capable of.

Mig, though, did everything with complete and utter focus.

He watched me, felt how my body responded to his touches.

And he knew just when to go slow, or when to speed up.

When to add more fingers inside me.

He paid attention. He knew what I wanted just by reading my reactions.

And both of us were so focused on each other and on what we were doing that neither of us noticed when the office door opened and my sister walked in.

“My God,” Tasha exclaimed loudly. “Can I film this?”

I hastily ripped my shirt down over my chest, concealing my breasts.

Mig growled, shielding me with his body as I repositioned my clothes.

Only when I was completely covered, did he sit up.

And neither my sister nor I missed the huge erection that filled out the front of his jeans.

“You must be Tornado Tasha,” Mig said.

Well, more like growled, but I wasn’t going to get into semantics.

“Seriously, Annie? Why do you have to tell everyone that?” She asked, walking into the room like she didn’t just catch me on the verge of having sex with a hot and sexy man.

I smiled at her, nearly spontaneously orgasming when Mig brought his fingers to his lips while my sister had her back turned and licked my juices off his fingers.

My mouth dropped open.

He grinned.

Then he was gone, leaving me with a smirking Tasha.

“So…you have something to tell me?”