He was good at making me laugh. Being with him was so easy.
I got out of the shower, aimed the blow dryer at my head for five minutes, and threw on a cropped sweatshirt and shorts. Downstairs, I was hunting in the kitchen for a dinner idea when someone knocked on my door.
My pulse quickened.
Despite the fact that I was supposed to be playing it cool, I pretty much ran toward the door. With my hand on the knob, I forced myself to take a breath and assume a casual expression. Then I pulled it open.
“Hi,” he said, looking unbelievably sexy. His hair was damp and messy, like he’d just gotten out of the shower but hadn’t bothered to comb it. His eyes immediately went to my bare midriff.
“Hey.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t bring you a Frosty.”
I laughed and wagged my finger at him. “Good.”
“I was wondering if you had any smoked paprika.”
“Smoked paprika? I’m not sure, but come in and I’ll look.”
He followed me back to the kitchen, sending Piglet running for her life. “I decided to test out my new grill with some burgers. The paprika is for the seasoning.”
“That sounds good.” I opened a cupboard door and shuffled some dried herbs and spices around. Spotting some smoked paprika in the back, I grabbed it and set it on the counter. “There you go, neighbor.”
“Thanks. Have you eaten yet?”
“No, I was just about to make dinner.”
“Want to come over? I have plenty. I bought a pound of meat.”
“Come on, you can eat a pound of meat, no problem.” I poked him playfully in his stomach, which was rock hard.
He swatted my hand away and grabbed me by both arms, twisting them behind my back. “What I can do and what I should do are sometimes two different things.”
A hot little spark zipped up my spine. “Oh, are we playing this game again?”
“Does it feel like a game?” His hips anchored mine to the island.
“It feels like you came over here for something other than smoked paprika.”
“Maybe I did.”
“It also feels like I’m being arrested.”
“I’m not a cop.” Clamping one hand around my crossed wrists, he slid the other around to my belly and up the front of my sweatshirt. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and his palm covered one breast. “Right now, I’m not even sure I’m one of the good guys.”
My nipple tingled as he teased it with his fingers, pinching it hard enough to make me gasp. Heat began to pool at my center.
“I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day,” he growled, moving his hand down my shorts, inside my underwear. “About the way you taste. About the way you move. About the sounds you make when I put my tongue right here.” He brushed his fingertips lightly over my clit, and I moaned softly. “Yes,” he whispered. “Like that.”
“What else?” I asked breathlessly. “What else did you think about?”
He eased his fingers inside me. “I thought about how wet you were last night. About my cock inside you. About fucking you.”
My legs were trembling as he moved his fingers in and out of my body, rubbing slow, decadent circles over my clit. I pushed my ass back against him, and he laughed, low and gravelly.
“You want my cock again?” He put his fingers back inside me. “Right here?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“You have to say it.”
I chewed my lip a second. Could I?
“Say it,” he demanded, his hand going still. “Or I won’t give you what you want.”
“I want your cock again.”
“Say please.” He began to stroke me again.
“Please,” I panted.
“Good girl.” He rubbed me a little harder and faster in just the right spot. “But first you’re going to come—just like this.” He released my arms and I fell forward over the island, my palms flat on the counter. With his free hand, he gathered up my hair in his fist and tightened his fingers, holding my head still. I winced as pain prickled across my scalp, but it was a delicious contrast to the fluttering pleasure building between my legs. The muscles in my lower body began to hum and my core muscles pulled tighter and tighter, the tension thrilling and delicious. My knees buckled as the orgasm pulsed through me.
A moment later, he was yanking my shorts and underwear down. Straightening up, he spun me around and began to unbutton his jeans.
Then suddenly he closed his eyes and scowled. “Fuck!”
“What?” Still breathless, I blinked at him.
He inhaled. “I don’t have a condom.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t suppose you . . .”
I shook my head.
He took another deep breath and did up his pants. “Okay. Game over.”
“Well, wait a minute. It doesn’t have to be over.” I dropped to my knees in front of him and released the button on his jeans again.
“Hey.” He put his fingers under my chin.
I looked up at him, eyes wide with phony innocence as I unzipped his jeans. “What?”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“You don’t want me to do this?” I pushed his hips back against the counter and tugged his jeans and boxer briefs to his knees. His cock sprang free, tall and thick and hard.
He braced the heels of his hands on the edge of the granite. “I didn’t say that.”
“I didn’t think so.” Taking his impressive erection in both hands, I licked my lips, then swept my tongue along the crown. He was warm and smooth, and I liked the way his breath came faster as I circled the head, slid my hands up and down the length of his shaft, allowed just an inch between my lips and sucked gently.
“Fuck, that feels so good.” His voice was raw with arousal, and I felt his cock swell and throb once against my palms. I moaned as I licked a salty droplet from the top. He continued to groan and growl and curse as I slowly licked him from root to tip, purposely not taking him deeper into my mouth. As I teased and played, I could sense the restraint in his body—how hard he was working to maintain control and not hold my head still so he could shove his dick to the back of my throat. Whenever he flexed his hips, I pulled back, laughing softly.
Finally, he put his hands on my head, threading his fingers into my hair and forcing me to meet his eyes. “Are you fucking messing with me?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, looking up at him with delight.
He clenched his jaw, torn between lust and fury. “Winnie.”
“What?”
“You know what I want.”
“I might,” I said coyly as his dick pulsed in my hands once more. “But you have to say it.”
His dark eyes gleamed with understanding. “You’re getting me back.”
“I’m just playing the game you started.” I grinned seductively. “So go on. Tell me what you want.”
For a second, I thought he wasn’t going to do it. I could see in his face the reluctance to get rough with me in this situation—I knew all he could think about was how much younger I was. But I also knew how badly he wanted this, and it gave me confidence to stand my ground.