Chapter Three
He was wearing that damn dark blue uniform again. But this time the shirt was unbuttoned, hanging open to show the white T-shirt he had on underneath it.
He unfastened his black leather belt and slowly slipped it out of the belt loops. Like he was stripping. He was teasing her! He dropped it to the floor. He removed the uniform shirt and flung it across the room. The T-shirt underneath hugged his skin, giving her a preview of what was underneath it.
He was getting undressed way too slow.
With a yank, the T-shirt was gone too. She waited for him to grab the front of his pants and pull, like an exotic dancer would with Velcro pants. One tug and whoosh! Nothing but leopard-print thong on.
But she was disappointed when that didn’t happen; he just sat on the corner of the bed and removed his black boots. Like a normal person. He turned to look at her.
She was naked and waiting on the bed. Her nipples hardened under his gaze, and she ran her fingers over them, circling. They were sensitive and begging for his touch. His mouth. His tongue.
She bet he knew just what to do with that tongue.
He stood, the mattress evening out from the lack of his weight. He faced her with a hungry look. It was like he wanted to eat her.
Well, if he did, she wasn’t going to complain. In fact, she would be quite accommodating.
She bent her knees and let them fall open, giving him a view that she hoped he’d never forget.
She sucked on her finger just enough to wet it, then stroked herself. She spread her lips, showing him just how much she wanted him. She was ready.
“Officer, I’ve been a bad girl.” She pouted.
“Have you now? What have you done?”
He unfastened his pants and slid them down, kicking them out of the way, his eyes never leaving her face.
Damn. He was hung.
Her heart beat a little faster.
“Things I can’t even tell you about…”
“Do I need to punish you?”
She nodded her head. The throbbing inside her made her toes clench.
He sat on the edge of the bed again, but leaned over to pick something off the floor.
He came back up with metal handcuffs hanging from his right hand.
A breathless “yes” escaped her.
He climbed over her to straddle her with his long legs.
“Are you going to cooperate?”
Amanda’s voice caught, and she could only nod.
“So, you regret being a bad girl?”
She nodded again, her heart pounding in her throat.
“Put your hands above your head.”
She shimmied down a bit and reached her hands back until they brushed the headboard.
“You’re not going to hurt me, are you, Officer?”
“I would never hurt you, you naughty girl. I’m here to protect and serve.”
The cuffs were cold as he tightened them around her wrists; they were threaded through one of the bars on her headboard so she couldn’t escape.
Not that she’d be a flight risk. She wasn’t planning on going anywhere.
“How—” She swallowed hard. “How are you going to serve me?”
“I can’t tell you. I need to show you.”
His finger stroked lightly down her neck. She shivered; her nipples perked to the point of pain. That didn’t go unnoticed. He was a good officer, so observant. He didn’t miss a thing. She smiled.
Large hands, lightly dusted with dark hair, moved their way down her shoulders to her breasts. She arched her back in anticipation. She wasn’t disappointed. His strong fingers plucked at her. Pulled. Twisted. Just how she wanted. Just how she liked it.
She groaned and thrashed her legs, making the cuffs clank against the headboard.
Sliding a hand down to her belly, he held her still. He shifted until he was settled in between her legs.
He stroked the soft, baby skin of her outer pussy with his fingers, then his tongue.
“You’re so soft and smooth,” he whispered, dipping a finger inside her. Then a second one. “You are so wet.”
He kissed her swollen clit and then sucked it hard, making her cry out and thrash around.
Going to his knees, he held his hard length. She wanted him inside her. Now!
“Are you ready for me?” He stroked his cock slowly. Running his thumb between her lips, he collected some of her wetness, then rubbed it over the head of his cock. “I’m ready for you. Can you see how hard I am?”
Amanda barely nodded her head. She could no longer speak.
He placed the crown of his cock right at her opening and shifted his weight over her.
* * * *
Just as he was starting to slide into her, to fill her, Amanda’s eyes popped open.
She was breathing hard, a drop of sweat rolling down her forehead. The sweat was real. Her dream was not.
Her pussy was throbbing but empty. Damn.
Something woke her up before she could finish her wet dream. She tried to slow her breathing so she could hear what it was.
Was someone at the front door? And why wouldn’t they stop that loud, insistent rapping?
She peeked at the alarm clock: 6:30.
With a groan, she threw the covers over her head. Who in their right mind was up at this hour in the morning? Sunday morning at that. Wasn’t it supposed to be a “day of rest”?
If she ignored whoever it was, they might go away and she could go back to her dream. Finish what she started.
The rapping turned into a ringing of the doorbell. Then it alternated. Rap, ring. Rap, ring.
It was enough to wake up the freaking dead. Releasing a growl, she tossed the covers back and got up. The cold air hitting her heated skin made her gasp.
She glanced over at the thermometer that clung outside her bedroom window: 62 degrees. Ugh.
She jammed a thick pair of socks onto her feet and snagged a robe, pulling it over her pajamas as she trudged down the hall. She peered into Greg’s room as she passed.
Still sleeping. How could he sleep through that racket?
Why wouldn’t whoever it was just go away?
When she reached the front door, Chaos was sitting attentively in front of it staring, his bushy tail slowly sweeping the floor, back and forth. Some guard dog; he hadn’t even barked.
Well, whoever it was, she was going to give them hell.
She brushed Chaos aside with her foot and flung the door open.
“What!” She stopped and frowned. “Oh…hello.”
“About time you got yourself out of bed.”
A gray-haired, heavyset woman in her late sixties stood in front of her. She wore a multicolored housedress—the kind with the zipper down the front—black knee-high socks, and tan orthopedic shoes. Amanda winced at the ghastly fashion faux pas.
The woman’s jowls jostled as she shoved a plate heaped with cookies at Amanda.
“Here, they’re peanut butter. Greg likes them.” She gave Chaos the evil eye. “I don’t know why Dolores ever bought him that damn noisy dog.”
As if mocking her, the quiet Chaos thumped his tail blissfully against the floor in response. Damn dog.
“I’m Amanda.”
“I know. I live next door. Dolores told me all about you.”
Great. “And you are?”
“Mrs. Myers.” The older woman eyed Amanda up and down. “Hmph. I told Dolores a girl that doesn’t even care enough to come home for her father’s funeral doesn’t have enough sense to take care of that poor boy.” She scowled. “I’m sure you’ll prove me right.”
Amanda’s grip tightened on the cookie plate as she glared at the miserable old bitch before her.
Amanda took a deep breath before saying sweetly, “Well, I appreciate you welcoming me into the neighborhood, Mrs. Myers, especially so bright and early on this fine Sunday morning. I’m sure we’ll become great friends.”
Mrs. Myers raised a finger and shook it in Amanda’s face, causing her to take a small step back. “I’ll be watching you, young lady. You better take good care of that boy. And make sure I get that plate back.”
With another “hmph” she turned and waddled back to her house.
“Nice meeting you,” Amanda called out and slammed the front door shut.
She gave the dog a look. “I give you permission to bite her if she ever steps on this property again.”
She considered the cookies in her hand. She peeled the plastic wrap back and dropped the plate to the floor. “There you go, Chaos. Enjoy.”
She smiled as the dog gobbled up a couple of the cookies, his tail wagging enthusiastically. Then as he was licking a couple more, she stopped him. The last thing she needed was the dog getting sick. She certainly didn’t want to clean up dog puke. Maybe she’d give them to Chaos one at a time. Like homemade dog treats.
She plucked the plate from underneath him and smoothed the wrap back over the surviving cookies. She’d have to hide them so Greg wouldn’t eat the peanut butter cookies with the dog saliva icing.
* * * *
She heard the woop, woop of the siren behind her. Amanda slammed her hand on the steering wheel; she had almost made it home.
All she had wanted to do was to go to the Super Walmart at the edge of town, pick up a few groceries and some necessities, then get home. It should have been that simple. It could have been that simple.
Three more blocks and she would have made it. She had even waited until dark to go.
She put on the turn signal and, with a huff, pulled over to the curb. A bright spotlight pinned her in the car from behind. She powered down the window, and tapped her nails with an impatient rhythm on the frame.
“What the hell!” Officer Bryson’s head filled up the car window, and a Maglite was pointed directly at her, blinding her. “Didn’t I tell you not to get into trouble?”
“What?” she asked with feigned innocence. She impatiently pushed the flashlight out of her face.
“You are driving around town without a registration plate on your vehicle.”
“Oh, it’s missing?” She had removed the GREGSMOM plate from the sedan the other day. She tried to change the subject. “Are you the only cop in this town?”
“Fortunately for you, no. There are also my brothers Matt and Marc, to name a couple. I seemed to be the fortunate one to keep dealing with you, though. The way you’re going, you’ll meet them all soon enough.”
“So your whole family is the police department?” At least send one of his other brothers. They can’t all be barbarians like this one. “I guess I’ll have to get another plate for the car.”
“What happened to the old one?”
The one that she had tossed into the garbage? She wondered if that was a crime. “Uh…it was stolen?”
“We’ll have to report it stolen then. And you’ll have to notify PennDOT.”
“Maybe it fell off.”
He eyed her suspiciously. The tick in his jaw was growing by the minute. “Which was it?” he prodded. “Amanda, was it stolen or lost?”
Why couldn’t he let this go? Why not just write her another stinking ticket and send her on her way. Every time she looked up at him, she was reminded of her dream. Why the hell would she pick someone so controlling to be in her wet dream? “I don’t know.”
“What?”
She raised her voice and repeated, “I don’t know!”
“Well, I’ll report it stolen then. I’m sure if someone around here took it”—he lifted a brow—“then we will surely notice a vehicle with the plate GREGSMOM on it.”
Amanda choked back a groan. “Yes, it shouldn’t be too hard to miss.”
“Well, when you get home, Amanda—Ms. Barber—make sure you take a good look around to see if it fell off. I suggest checking in the garage. If you find it, give us a call.”
Amanda’s felt the heat crawling up her neck. “I’ll do that.”
“I’ll let you go this time. But if I catch you driving without a plate again, I’m towing your car.”
How sweet.
“I’ll follow you home.”
How embarrassing, she thought as the black-and-white cruiser followed her up the street to the house.
How embarrassing Mrs. Myers, the next-door nosy neighbor just happened to be out on her porch. At nighttime. With only a bare yellow bulb lighting up her stocky figure, hands on her hips in clear disapproval.
As she pulled into the paved driveway, the cruiser continued on down the street. She stopped the vehicle and stared back at Mrs. Myers. The woman didn’t like her. It was mutual.
Great. Now she was dealing with a meddling cop and a meddling neighbor. What was next?
* * * *
She should have never asked herself that question. She appeared to be stuck in the midst of Murphy’s Law.
The next morning, she went to wake up Greg, to get him ready for adult day care. His bed was empty.
She tried not to panic. She checked the bathroom. Empty. She whistled for Chaos. No response.
She ran down the stairs and out into the backyard. Empty.
She checked the car in the garage. It sat there empty.
Now she could panic.
She grabbed a jacket and a pair of sneakers, pulling them on as she went, and rushed out the front door.
Only to be brought up short.
A police car pulled up in the driveway. She relaxed somewhat when she spotted Chaos and Greg in the backseat.
She grimaced as she heard a tsk tsk from the direction of the porch next door. She ignored the old busybody.
At least it wasn’t Officer Bryson driving the cruiser. Last thing she needed right now was another lecture from that man. Anyway, she didn’t think it was him. As the car rolled to a stop, she rushed forward to open the back passenger-side door.
Fortunately, her brother was in one piece. “Greg! Where were you? You scared me!”
She gave him a big hug and brushed a lone lock out of his eyes.
The disturbingly familiar-looking police officer unfolded himself from the driver’s seat. “Ma’am. I’m Officer Bryson. I mean, Marc Bryson.” He gave her a half smile as he said, “I’ve heard you’ve already met my brother Max.”
They were eerily similar. The same closely cropped dark hair, ice-blue eyes, strong square jaw, and deep tan, like they both spent a lot of time outdoors. This one had quite a few less creases around the eyes, though. And he didn’t look so disapproving. Or barbarian.
“What happened?”
He tilted a head toward the busybody and lowered his voice. “Mrs. Myers called and said she saw Greg running away from home.”
“What?”
Greg piped in at that moment. “I wasn’t runnin’ away! I wasn’t, ’Manda.”
“We found him down on Fifth Street.”
“Fifth Street! Holy shit.” Amanda grimaced, realizing she’d just cursed in front of a police officer on duty. She turned to Greg and took his shoulders, giving him a little shake. “What were you doing on Fifth Street?”
“Looking for Mama.”
His sullen answer tore at her heart. She didn’t know what to say, how to respond.
“Ma’am…”
“Amanda,” she corrected him. She was not ready for that old-lady title yet. Save it for Mrs. Busybody.
“Amanda…” With a hand on her back, he steered her away from Greg so they could talk privately. He kept his voice low as he continued, “His mother’s church is on Fifth.”
Amanda shook her head. She didn’t understand.
He cleared his throat. “That’s where her service was.”
Her service… Ah! What an idiot she was. The people in this town must think her heartless. No wonder Mrs. Busybody didn’t like her. Amanda had never visited. She never even came back for her father’s funeral. Or her stepmother’s.
No wonder Officer Max Bryson thought her immature and selfish. She looked up at his brother; nothing but pity showed in his blue eyes. Right now she felt so low that she’d rather have had Max’s disapproval staring down at her. Punishing her.
She deserved it.
As if in slow motion, she turned away and sank down on the concrete front stoop. She looked at her brother, who was helpless in this world. She was all he had.
Greg remained standing next to the black-and-white car with an abnormal calmness, not his excitable self. Chaos sat at his feet obediently—also unnaturally still.
She studied the dog. Chaos didn’t know his master was different. Chaos didn’t care.
She was so in over her head. But she was determined not to drown.
* * * *
Amanda glanced over at Greg, who was coloring with crayons…only he didn’t have a coloring book. He was immersed in decorating the kitchen table. Amanda closed her eyes and sighed.
She had insisted Greg stay home from day care and had spent half the morning trying to explain why his mother wasn’t still waiting for him at the Fifth Street church. He had heard everything she had to say, but hadn’t really listened.
And Amanda was tired of trying to explain. Both ended extremely agitated for most of the day. Even Chaos had gone out his doggy door to escape the tension.
Maybe she just needed to get Greg away from this place.
“Bud, how about moving to the big city?”
Without even looking up, he mumbled, “No.”
Amanda moved around the table to stand next to his seat. She stroked her fingers over his hair. “Maybe you could meet new friends.”
“No.”
“Why? Greg, don’t you want lots of friends and lots of things to do?”
“Don’t wanna leave.”
“Why?”
“Mama may come back.”
“Greg…” Amanda reached out and grabbed Greg’s hands with hers, ceasing their senseless movement. “Greg, your mama isn’t coming back.”
“Yes, she might.”
“Did Daddy?”
Greg’s hands tensed against hers, his fingers clench tight. “No…no…Daddy’s gone for good. Mama says so.”
“Yes, and your mama is with our daddy.”
“No. She’s coming back.”
“No, Greg…”
“Yes, she said she’d never leave me.”
“I’m sure she did.”
“She said so!” He jerked away and stared down at the broken crayons in his hands. “Oh, my crayons are broke. Mama’s gonna be mad!”
Amanda sank into a chair at the table. “No, she won’t.”
“’Manda, stop it! Stop it! Mama said…”
“Greg, your mama said a lot of things, but…”
Greg suddenly pushed away from the table, causing his chair to flip backward with a crash. He towered over Amanda, his face flushed, a piece of spittle caught in the corner of his mouth. “SHUT UP!”
Amanda had to cover her ears to protect them from his high-pitched shriek. His fists were clenched and his eyes wild. For the first time, Amanda felt a spark of fear. She might have pushed him too far.
Max Bryson stepped into the kitchen. A fleeting thought of how he had gotten into the house crossed her mind. He approached Greg, put his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, and gave them a slight squeeze. “Hey, pal, what’s going on?”
The tension notably lessened in Greg’s body. For that she was grateful. Why Max was in her house was another thing. She realized then that she had been holding her breath; she released it in a rush.
“Max! ’Manda wants to take me away!”
Heat rose from her neck into her cheeks when Max gave her a quick glance. He frowned. “She does?”
“Yeah, she wants me to go…to the big city an’…an’…meet new people an’ get new things.”
“She does? And you don’t want to go? Well, we will have to convince her that you want to stay.”
Amanda hissed, “Like it’s any of your business.” She got up and grabbed the furniture polish from under the sink. She began to scrub at the crayon marks on the kitchen table with a rag.
The more she thought about Max putting his nose in their business, the harder she scrubbed. She tuned out their conversation and concentrated on removing the colored wax from the wood’s finish. When she was done, she looked up and realized it was quiet.
Greg had left the room, and Max was leaning back against the center island, arms and feet crossed. He was watching her intently.
“Do you have nothing better to do? Like go fight crime? Or write a little old lady a citation for jaywalking? Did you lose your parking-lot stopwatch?”
The corner of his lip curled up. “You should be fined for having such a cute ass. Just watching you wiggling it back and forth like that as you scrubbed gave me a—”
He stopped abruptly, as if he had just realized he had said his thoughts out loud. The surprise on his face was quickly schooled to a blank expression.
As she finished his thought, Amanda’s gaze flew downward.
She turned to gather Greg’s broken crayons and threw them into an old coffee can, closing the lid with a snap. She could finally look up at Max without blushing. “Again…why are you here? And most importantly, how did you get in?”
“Well, I got in through your front door. It wasn’t locked.”
“Do you normally just barge into people’s homes?”
“No, only in emergencies. I heard the yelling and thought there might be one.”
Amanda snorted. She stilled, her eyes narrowed. “Did that busybody call you?”
“Who?”
“Never mind. What do you want?”
“I heard what happened this morning and wanted to check up on you and Greg.”
Ah.
“My brother said you were pretty distressed.”
“Of course I was. Do you think I don’t care about my brother?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Look, this is a small town. Everybody knows everything. Or at least thinks they know everything. That’s just the way it is. Maybe down in—Miami, is it?—it’s no big deal that a daughter doesn’t come home for a funeral, but up here… Well, people talk.”
“That’s because there’s nothing to do except gossip and talk about things people don’t know anything about.”
“Maybe so.”
“No maybes about it. Oh, and give out unfair citations. Can’t forget that one!”
“You’re lucky I didn’t give you one the other day when your registration plate got lost.”
Out of nowhere it hit Amanda that this was Max Bryson. Not Officer Max Bryson. He wasn’t in uniform. She was suddenly taken aback on how handsome he looked. Without the uniform he looked less…barbaric? Militant. Less patronizing.
His jeans fit him quite nicely, while his worn flannel shirt with the rolled-up sleeves looked soft against the deep tan of his forearms. A deep blue T-shirt peeked out from the V of the tucked in flannel. She couldn’t imagine him with his hair any longer than it was. The severe haircut fit him. Her pulse quickened.
He was a true man. Masculine. Mature.
She wondered if he would look as naked in real life as he did in her dream. She licked her lips.
“Don’t.” His voice was low and gruff, clearly a warning.
Amanda closed her eyes and tried to speak.
She cleared her throat and tried again. “I appreciate your concern, but I think you’d better leave.” Her eyes opened, and she met his, the fiery blue ice making her breath catch. “I see you’re off duty, and I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.”
He straightened up, uncrossing his legs and arms. “You’re right.” He stepped close to her, hesitated just for a second. Just long enough for Amanda to feel the searing heat of his body. Goose bumps broke out over her skin. He brushed by with some parting words. “Stay out of trouble.”
As she watched him take long strides out of the kitchen, she caught herself on the counter before her knees collapsed.
AFTER SAYING GOOD-BYE to Greg on his way out, Max stepped out of the house and took a deep breath of the cool fall air. He needed to clear his head. Marc had tried to warn him not to go over to check up on her, but Max hadn’t agreed. He thought it was the perfect opportunity to see Amanda on a nonpolice matter. Hopefully on more pleasant terms.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t turned out that way. As he had arrived, he had heard Greg’s out-of-control yelling, and he had rushed in to see Amanda in way over her head. As he had previously feared. He sighed.
What he had hoped to be a nice little neighborly visit turned wrong. He frowned and walked over to his truck. Hopping in, he sat in the cab, staring at the little house in front of him.
Max had noticed when Amanda’s expressive gaze had changed. One second she was being a major bitch, the next she was checking him out with those sizzling eyes. Phew. Again he was surprised at the quick response from his body. He was losing control.
He strapped the seat belt across his torso.
He had to meet up with her again. Next time it would be better without conflict brewing. Maybe he should ask her out for coffee.
Hell, he’d make it a beer instead. She needed to loosen up.
* * * *
Max knocked on Amanda’s door. No answer. He knocked again. He tried the knob. It was locked, unlike last time he was here.
He heard a faint, “Who is it?”
“Ma’am? It’s Officer Bryson, ma’am. Please open the door.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“It’s police business, ma’am.”
The door swung open, giving him an unobstructed view of Amanda in the sexiest teddy he’d ever seen.
“Will you stop calling me ‘ma’am’? I’m not that old. And hurry up and come in; it’s chilly out there.”
It sure was. Her nipples perked underneath the silky fabric—the black lacy fabric that barely covered her full breasts. He swore he could see the rosy color of her nipples.
She closed the door behind him and turned to face him.
“Is this going to be quick, Officer?”
“Oh, I can make it quick.” Then he grimaced when he realized what he’d said. Damn it!
“What was so important that you had to wake me out of bed?”
“Ma’am… Amanda, you never paid your parking ticket. I have a warrant for your arrest.”
“What? A warrant? Let me see it.”
Max checked his pockets and couldn’t find the warrant. He cleared his throat. “Well, I can’t find it right this second. But it’s a bench warrant.”
“Well, can I pay you now?” She took a step closer.
Why was she wearing that sexy outfit? This was supposed to be police business. He wasn’t able to concentrate on the matter at hand. This wasn’t like him.
“Yes, I’ll take payment.”
“Cash, check, or…?”
“Or?”
She moved another step forward and was now inches from him. Her nipples were clearly visible through that lace.
“Or…how about this?” She closed the few inches between them, stood on her tiptoes, and brushed his lips with her.
She leaned back just enough for him to say, “That’s not sufficient.”
She kissed him again, this time grabbing his waist for balance, holding her lips against his a little longer. When she pulled back, he just shook his head.
“No? Well, how about this?” She smashed her lips to his and plundered his mouth with her tongue, exploring every corner until he groaned.
Her hand reached down and slipped into the waistband of his jeans, just enough to grab the hem of his T-shirt, then rip it over his head, tossing it to the floor. She leaned in and rubbed her breasts against his chest. The feel of the silky fabric and her hard nipples almost made him pick her up and throw her onto the couch.
Instead, she grabbed the waistband of his jeans again and tugged him over to the couch.
Damn, she wanted all the control.
“Take your pants off.”
After kicking off his boots, he did just that. His cock was hard and ready, and his balls were tight. The blood was surging through his body, his heart pumping rapidly.
Amanda gave him a shove, and he landed on the couch, giving him a complete view of her in that black teddy. Besides the lace that barely concealed her breasts, solid black fabric draped down to her hips. Just long enough that he couldn’t tell if she had panties on.
His gaze roamed her legs from the tops of her thighs down to her toes, appreciating every curve that she had. Her inner thigh, her knees, her calves.
“C’mere,” he said, his voice so gravelly that he didn’t sound like himself. He reached out a hand, and she took it. He drew her into him, and she was suddenly straddling him. His cock was caught between her bare pussy—well, there was the answer—and his lap. He was right there. Right there! It wouldn’t take much but a minor shift.
She leaned into him and captured his lips again, moaning as their tongues tangled and explored. Her fingers tweaked his nipples, making him jerk a little but not enough to lose the touch of their kiss.
He broke free so he could push down the spaghetti straps of her teddy, releasing her breasts. They were perfect and beautiful. He buried his face between them, kissing her flushed skin. He sucked one nipple while he teased the other with his fingers, twisting just enough to make her cry out, sink harder in his lap, and grind against him.
His cock twitched against her heat, feeling her wetness. He brushed his teeth over the other nipple, reaching his thumb down in between them to find her clit. She bucked against him like a wild horse. And with a little lift and tilt of her hips, she captured his cock. A long, low moan escaped her as she lowered herself slowly, ever so slowly, until she had him completely enveloped inside her. Her inner muscles squeezed him as she rode him, easy at first, then she picked up the pace. His head fell against the couch as she controlled the movement. Up, down, circling. Almost letting him go, then quickly swallowing him again.
Her hips shifted and tilted as she reached back to stroke his balls, then squeeze them. He almost lost it right there. He tried to slow his breathing, but she was wreaking havoc on his control.
He wanted this to last. But between her little whimpers and her clenching pussy, he was going to lose it.
And when she cried out, “I’m coming!” he lost it.
His cock throbbed as he spilled into her, his release mixing with hers.
* * * *
He rolled over and woke up. He dragged a hand over his stomach. Sticky! It was only a dream. A freaking teenage-like wet dream. Fuuuuuuuuck.
That damn woman has gotten under his skin.