“Wow,” she says in a rush of air.
I would laugh if it was funny, but I’m so fucking turned on by her, one chuckle will have me humping into her. I might be in jeans, but her shorts are damn thin, and not even denim can hide the heat coming off her. Her girl wants me, just like I want her. And the fact that she doesn’t seem put off but maybe a bit more in awe from the size of my dick has me wanting to strut my shit like a damn peacock.
Fuck it.
I grind into her because why the hell not? I want to. My dick is craving it, and I want to see if I can force out any other words from her mouth. Her brain seems to turn to mush when there’s contact between us, and I’m all for testing theories. Might be named Biker Scientist of the freaking Year after I test this hypothesis.
The groan, moan, and half scream rolled into one urges me to do it again as I watch her eyes roll back. On the third time, she pushes her sweet little pussy against me. By the fourth grind, it’s all her as she rubs herself along me. Now it’s my turn to moan and curse my plan. She might be more pliable right now than before, but I was the idiot who wore jeans. And there’s only so much freaking give in them.
“Do you have any Epsom salts?” I ask as I push myself off her and sit on my heels. I relish the way it takes her a good two minutes to respond to me, still lost in her head enough to be confused by my words. I did that. I made the hottest, most badass woman I know speechless.
“Yeah, in the bathroom.” She looks at me with a tilt of her head as I nod.
“Okay, then.” I stand, then lean down and grab her arm. I like to think I’m smart as I continue to not give her a reason to say no and just take what I want. With her arm in my hand, I use the movement to help me lift her and toss her over my shoulder.
Her startled scream is all I get out of her as I make quick steps to her bathroom. Her place is small, just a two-bedroom, one-bath home that I’m not ashamed to admit I googled and looked up the property value on when I first noticed Bailey. What can I say? Investing is something I’m not only good at but like. The gym partnership was more of a financial opportunity than anything else. I have a few properties I own, but nothing local, just a few town houses where my dad lives. It seemed like the ideal setup when I first joined the military: rent out the property while I was away, get it paid off from the income, and then move in or just sell it outright after I got out. Things changed, but I still have the properties, and even bought four more units around them. The landlord business is easy and lucrative.
I set her down on her sink counter and turn to the tub. Thank fuck it’s one of those deep-soaker types with jet. It’s not overly large, but we’ll make it work. I turn the temp up and then go through her cabinets. Finding what I need, I pour the salt under the water. I’m not opposed to fragrances, but I’m happy as fuck that it ain’t scented. That shit can get annoying after a while, and I plan to be in here with her for more than five minutes.
Once I have the bath just the way I like it, I turn back to Bailey and take my shirt off.
“What are you doing?” she asks, raising her eyebrow and looking unimpressed.
Note to self: five minutes without touching her is too long.
It might not be entirely accurate, but I fully believe more touch equals less thinking for her. And Bailey needs not to think about anything when I’m around. Not because I’ll be the one to do it all for her, ’cause I will if she asks, but a thinking Bailey is dangerous. Not to my health, but to my heart.
“Taking a bath.”
“And you think it’s okay to use mine? What, your place doesn’t have a tub or something?” She’s trying to be sassy, and it should deflate my dick, but it doesn’t.
“Nope. Clubhouse only has showers.” I like when I can surprise her. I enjoy the way her eyes go wide when she hears things she isn’t expecting.
“You live at the clubhouse?”
“Yup.” I get closer to her and kiss her softly. It’s a slow, lingering kiss with no tongue, but it’s just as passionate as all the others. I pull back just enough to give myself room to grab the bottom of her shirt and pull it over her head.
“Now what are you doing?” She’s being compliant as she sits in her sports bra, her eyes still shut from when I started to kiss her.
I press another kiss to her pert nose. “Taking off your clothes.”
Her eyes slowly open, and she tilts her head to the side. There’s no anger on her face, no confusion. I can’t read her as she stares at me. She’s usually so readable, her facial expressions one of the many things that drew me in the first time. You know where you stand with Bailey; there’s never any game in play. I know she didn’t like me, or at least her words said that, but her eyes told me the opposite.
She wanted me as soon as she saw me, but something held her back. Something she thought was too big of a deal not to look past for us to be together. That’s what I listened to, her eyes. If they also said “fuck off” like her voice, I would have walked. But they didn’t, so I waited. I tracked her like my club name describes me, and now that I have her in my teeth, I ain’t letting go.
“Why?”
“Bath ain’t for me.”
She takes my words and measures them in her mind, if I’m going off the pinched look on her face. She’s calculating what to do. And this time, I let her think. I take a step away and turn the water off before I find towels and put them close to the tub. I might be an ass for not giving her much time to say no before, but I’ll let her think about this. Getting naked is something I want, but I won’t force this or make her live to regret it after the glow of our first make-out session wears off.
I turn back around and look at her for my next move. Again, she’s locked down her emotions. Not sure if I enjoy knowing that after I finally claimed those lips, not only does she not think, but she becomes harder to read.
Her arms rise, and I step closer. My hands land on her thighs, and I spread her legs and step between them. I trail them up her soft skin, memorizing the feel of her hourglass body and the dips in her stomach. My hands stop at the bottom of her bra. It’s not one with a clasp, and I take a second to peck her lips once before I grab the hem and pull it off her.
I keep my eyes locked with hers, ’cause I’m honestly hyperventilating in my head. I’ve dreamed of this so many times, wanted it so much, that I’ve got half a mind to think I’m dreaming. That if I look down, her perfect breasts will fade into nothingness, like the rest of this, and I’ll wake up. I’ve had it happen almost every night. Been plagued by nightmares of being within reach just to be pulled away from finally getting the prize.
Her arms lower as she watches me. Not sure what she sees on my face, or in my eyes, but she pushes me back as she hops off the counter. She shimmies, and I feel her shorts hit the top of my shoes. I swallow hard as I continue to only look into her dark jade eyes.
