“Fuck yes,” I whisper against her damp skin.
“My god.” Her body is still slightly quaking as she comes back down from her high. “I wish you were worse at that.”
I give her a delicate spank. “No you don’t. You love my dick.” She makes a sound, something like a breathy laugh, but her energy is spent, and I reluctantly ease myself out of her as she collapses completely on the couch.
“Don’t move.”
“I don’t take orders from you.” She has the balls to sound bratty, and I only have to level her a look, not needing to remind her that less than thirty seconds ago, she did, in fact, take orders, and very well too. “Shut up,” she whispers, but I catch the smile she’s trying to hide as she buries her head into the couch cushions, catching her breath. I turn and head for her bedroom’s en suite, setting up her bath and letting it fill while I knot the condom, discard it, and grab a cloth to wet in the warm bath water.
Sitting on the edge of the bath, my head dropped back between my shoulders, I take a breath and calm my heart rate.Fuck me.
It’s never been like that. Only one other time, and it was with the same woman. The worst part is realizing it isn’t even just that the sex is great. Our chemistry is off the charts, her scent, her eyes, that fucking smile, and the way she can clap back and takes shit from no one. Everything about her is so goddamn alluring. Her skin is smooth, her curls lock between my fingers when I play with her hair like it wants me there, her lips…shit.
My head falls forward and I’m already half hard again. I hope like fuck she has a few more rounds in her because we’ve barely scratched the surface. I’d go another ten rounds, nap, replenish with some protein, and be ready for more.
One thing is for fucking certain; I am completely insatiable for Rosie Garcia.
CHAPTER 14
still so dickmatized
Rosie
Iam so fucked.
Literally and figuratively, because I was just railed within an inch of my life.
It’s horribly cliché, and I hate it, but the arrogant son of a bitch had a huge dick and he seriously knew how to use it. I am still so dickmatized by him that I am lying limp, naked on my couch, while he disappeared to somewhere in my house.
I should be worried.
This is how most crimes occur, right? Get them to lower their guard, and when they’re lying boneless and defenseless, rob them of all their shit.
Though I doubt I need to worry about that. I have a lot of expensive things, sure, but Caleb walks around in Armani, Hugo, and Tom Ford, he isn’t struggling.
Still…he has been gone for a suspicious amount of time.
I sit up, trying to perk my ears, and when I hear nothing, I get up…ignoring hisordernot to move.Pfft,who does he think he is anyway.
I only make it a few strides before he walks out of my room with a cloth, looking as naked as the day he was born…and already standing almost fully at attention.
“You really don’t listen unless my cock is buried inside you.” His eyes coast a path down my body and back up, locking with my eyes and looking hungrier than they were a second ago.
“I know how to manipulate a man, what you had was an illusion of control.” I smirk, my hands landing on my hips as I lie through my teeth.
“Is that so?” he queries through a chuckle as he continues to walk right up to me, no space between us. Holding eye contact with me, he lowers the hand with the cloth, and before I know what is happening, he’s between my legs. His pressure gentle as he wipes me. I don’t really know what for, he wore a condom, but the warmth and just the look in his eyes as he lazily strokes me with the cloth is enough to make me lose any deception of control I thought I was gaining back.
“See, if you had listened and stayed right where you were, I could have lain down, wiped you first with the cloth”—he leaned closer, kissing my lips ever so softly before he whispered—“and then with my tongue.”
“Well”—who is this panting mess, because it certainly isn’t me—“you still could.”
“Only good girls get rewards.” He drops the cloth and spanks me lightly on the ass—a thing I am realizing he loves to do. He then takes a hold of my hand, having the audacity to intertwine our fingers—and a scientist needs to examine why I allow this to continue—and he proceeds to drag me in the direction of my room.
I’m giving myself the grace of post-orgasm numbness as to why I let my little heart flutter, the butterflies loose in my stomach.
He leads me all the way to the en suite, where the lights are low, a candle or two lit, and the bath filled with warm water and bubbles. He leads me right to the edge before lifting my hand, gesturing for me to step in.
“I told you I’d run you a bath. I don’t usually break my promises.”
