I tip-toe around him, grabbing a towel as I go.
After throwing on some clothes, I duck out the garage door, which has been left wide open.
That’ll teach me to allow myself to get carried away.
I sprint over to grab the lead and hurry back.
The bathroom door is closed, so I knock. “Hey, here’s the leash.”
The door opens just a crack, and Adam’s hand appears. I lay the lead across his palm. He snatches it inside, and the door promptly shuts.
Ten seconds later, the door opens and a fully clothed Adam hangs tight to the leather loop. Spike snorts and sniffs as he strains against his collar, his front feet off the floor as Adam tries to control his movements to get him outside and keep him from darting into the other room in search of a play partner. Though Chloe is likely hiding in my closet and won’t come out for days.
I follow them outside, firmly shutting the door behind me. “I’ll go get his balls.”
“He’ll be lucky to have any of his balls if he keeps this shit up.”
Spike’s ears perk up as he drops to his haunches. His expressive brown eyes look worried as though he suddenly understands that he’s in trouble.
I find the lost tennis balls and use the side gate to head around front. When Spike’s gaze lands on the balls, his ass wiggles and he bucks like a bronc. I give them to Adam, who takes both in one hand.
We make our way to his front porch.
He opens the door. “Thanks. Let me know how much the damages are. I’ll cover them.”
I cross my arms and study him for a moment. “Nope. That won’t do.”
His brows knit. “Why not?”
“Because I want something else.” Let him weasel out of this one.
He pushes Spike inside and unlatches the lead from his collar. “Get in there, you crazy mutt.”
When he closes the door and turns to me, I step close.
He grins. “Oh, I know what you want.”
I smile sweetly. “No, you don’t.”
He nods. “I bet I do. You want to finish what got interrupted in the shower.”
“Nope.”
His smile disappears behind his facial fur as his mouth closes in a frown.
I slide my arms around his waist and pull him to me, his hot skin all but burning mine.
This could backfire on me. He might get ugly. Then again, maybe not.
I look up at him and lay a small kiss in the center of his chest. “Why won’t you let me see—you know—it? Don’t even try denying that what I’m saying is true. After that comment about your pecker, I’m on to you.”
He stiffens in my arms and gently extricates himself from my embrace.
“No.” He opens his door, steps inside, and pushes it until there’s only a crack of space open. “Well, okay then. That was fun. Have a great evening. I’ll catch you later.”
And the door closes—right in my face.
Fucker.
I count to three, crack my knuckles, and reach for the knob.
I push through the door. “No. I will not have a great evening. I wasn’t finished talking, you rude asshat.”
Adam whips around, his eyes hardening. “But I am.”
I plop into the only piece of furniture in the room, his recliner. I flip the lever and prop my feet up, lacing my fingers over my belly. “Fine then. I’ll simply hang out for a while until you’re ready to fess up.”
He threads his fingers through his hair. Then he reverses direction, up his neck, over his head, and down his face, smoothing his beard as he goes. “What the ever loving fuck? Why should I tell you anything? I hardly know you.”
I toss one leg over the arm of his chair. Hopefully, he’s getting a really nice view of the bare goods under the tennis skirt I threw on earlier before I ran out for the leash. “Because you’ve seen all of me, up close and real personal-like. And you know me well enough to have made out with my girly parts, so you owe me the same opportunity to see all of you, or at least an explanation as to why I’m not getting said opportunity.”
“Maybe I don’t like my cock sucked.” He crosses his arms.
A laugh skips out of my mouth, followed by a whoop. “Wow. Really? You want to go with that?”
He looks to the ceiling, thin-lipped.
I try to keep my features neutral.
He casts me glances as he paces the room. “You’re unreasonable.”
“I am not. What if—what if you’re hiding some kind of disease? Or worse. If you want to put that thing up against me, I have the right to see it.”
“Disease?” He stops in his tracks. “I—I don’t have any fucking diseases.”
I shrug. “Okay. So what’s the deal?”
He pulls at his hair. “Fuck. Fine. You want me to tell you the deal? You want me to tell you that my cock was almost decapitated in a little village somewhere in the Middle East when an IED went off at an inopportune moment? You want me to tell you that even though the docs did a bang up job sewing me together and were convinced they’d fixed me right up, there’s still a certain amount of…there’s some—fuck—there’s still some dysfunction? That what you want to know?”
My heartbeat is the only sound for the longest time as Adam stares at me. Our gazes lock, and I hold my breath, not sure what to do or say or how to apologize for being such a nosy bitch.
Finally, he moves when he yanks his fly down and shoves his pants open. “See? There it is. You happy?”
I clench my fists. My stomach sinks like a thirty-pound bowling ball in a vat of rotten pudding. I’d give anything to turn back time ten minutes. I could walk away from the door and let him have his peace as I should have done all along.
I swallow, unable to look away from his hazel eyes, even though they’re killing me with their anguish.
He steps closer. “Well, look, damn it. You had to see it, so fucking look at it.”
I close my eyes, but only for a second as I steel myself.
Don’t flinch. Don’t frown. Don’t do anything that will hurt him more. Good Lord, I’m such a raging cunt.
I crack my lids and let my gaze fall to his dick.
Damn.
He’s long. And big. Like huge. Even now, when he’s not quite fully aroused.
A large, jagged scar runs just above his groin from where his left thigh connects diagonally, almost to his right hipbone. Other than that, he looks—it looks fairly normal, other than its enormous size.
I pull my legs together and push down the recliner’s footrest. I scoot to the edge of the seat as I lean forward.
He props his hands at his waist, his gaze darting away.
Curiosity gets the best of me, and I take his cock in my hand.
He sucks in a quick breath as it springs toward me. Like an emergency life raft that’s had its cord pulled, it fills my palm so much that I grab hold with my other hand too, and still, I can’t cover his length.
“It doesn’t look wrong.” I run my hands over his hard heat.
He lets out a huff. “It doesn’t look right.”
I lift it and run the tip of my finger along the thin scar that circles his shaft. A bit of puckered skin sits almost center of the upper side, about two inches from its root.
I skim my finger over the knot. “Ribbed for her pleasure?”
He looks down at me with a dry chuckle. “Cute.”
“Know what I think?” I grin as his heat spreads to me, and my pulse moves to my pussy.
“What do you think, Kelsey? I’m sure you’re going to tell me either way.”
“I think you’re a liar.”
“A liar? About what?” He tries to step away, but I hang on to his cock.
I get to my knees and look up at him, licking my lips nice and slow.
“I think you do like to have your dick sucked.”
Ever so softly, I blow across the head of his hard-on, slowly sliding my hand along his length. I bring my mouth closer and stop just a breath away.
God, just l
et him trust me.
His jaw ticks—once, twice, three times.
I take the power from him when I lick my lips again, and the end of my tongue grazes the tip of his head, capturing the bead of pre-cum waiting there. He sucks in a sharp breath through clenched teeth.
I open my mouth. My gaze locks with his as I slide my tongue around the rim of his cock.
He throws his head backward and groans. “Fuck. Woman.”
I have him in the palm of my hand—or maybe on the tip of my tongue.
His fingers dive into my hair as he guides me to take in his erection.
A thread of guilt runs through my every breath—Carter Shulls will never have this pleasure again. And it’s not fair that I’m still here to enjoy this part of life. But Kelsey’s mouth is hot and wet and the best fucking thing to touch my cock in months. Maybe ever.
Kelsey takes my balls in one hand, massaging them as she glides the other up and down my shaft while she sucks the head of my dick and swirls her tongue over me. My erection is as tight and full as it’s ever been, and my ass cheeks clench every time she hits a certain spot.
Fuck. Me.
I need to throw her on the floor and ram my cock into her pussy, but at the same time, I don’t want to interrupt the magic she’s working with her mouth. And her tongue, it’s so soft, yet surprisingly strong as she wields it over my flesh.
She works my erection, ignoring my deformity, having no clue that she could suck me until she’s dry-mouthed and exhausted, but she won’t get me there.
I should tell her.
In a minute—I’ll tell her in a minute.
I close my eyes, allowing her to set the pace. It doesn’t matter what she does. It’s right. I can’t think about the moment that she’ll start to doubt that fact. Because it’s bound to happen. And then she’ll be finished with me, because who wants to be with the guy whom it seems you can’t please?
Even if every move she makes pleases the living shit out of me, she’ll doubt it. Even if I tell her how much pleasure she brings me…eventually, she’ll tire of never satisfying me. She’ll feel powerless, as powerless as I am to fix this problem. This curse.
My dick is diamond hard in her hands and mouth. Her head bobs under my palm, and I soak up the loving attention she lavishes on my cock.
I give it a little longer before I reach down and pull her up.
Chest to chest, I lean in and tug on her bottom lip with my teeth before I lay a hard kiss on her. Thrusting my tongue in and out, slipping it around the edges of her lips, my goal is to make her forget that I’m still hard as fuck.
But her hand finds my erection. Fingers dance over it, sending waves of heat through me, chased by surges of regret that I won’t be able to fully enjoy this moment with this beautiful girl.
But I don’t deserve to enjoy it, so it is what it is.
I let her go on as long as I can stand myself. I nip at her lips and slow down the kisses, running my hands up her arms as I set her away from me.
She comes toward me. I dodge her. After the second round of that, she stops and glares at me.
Fists on her hips, she narrows her eyes. “What’re you doing?”
“The insanity has to stop.”
“Insanity?”
I put the recliner between us as I stuff my junk into my pants, trying and failing to zip up over the bulge. “You think the only problem with my cock is the way it looks? That’s not the half of it.”
“It seems like everything works pretty well to me. You’re just self-conscious. The scars don’t bother—”
“You don’t understand.” I hold up my hand to stop her. “All that rubbing and sucking? As well as you do it—and believe me when I say you do it very well—it won’t matter in the end. I don’t climax. I can’t.”
Her eyes widen. “Climax? You mean you won’t come?”
I look away. “No. I don’t. And I can’t. I haven’t since the injury.”
Her brows knit. “Aw. If that’s the case, then that sucks—for you.”
“No shit. I’ve taken more cold showers these last few months than I did even as a pubescent teen with bad skin and stupid hair.”
Her eyes light up. “But that must really please the ladies.”
“Yeah, well, you’d think so—and maybe some of them don’t mind at all, but it causes problems too.”
“Oh, I can only imagine the troubles it must cause. Multiple Os. All night long love-making. Endless Erection Syndrome must just be hell. Believe it or not, that’s the stuff of dreams for a lot of women.”
I scrub my forehead with my knuckles. “Like I said, you’d think that, but it isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.”
She puts a knee into the seat of the recliner and leans over the headrest. “Maybe you just haven’t had the right woman yet.”
I smile. Not because she’s right—she’s not—but because I have no idea how to convince her of what I’m saying without sounding like a jackass.
Instead, I reach for her, pulling her over the backrest of the chair and into my arms. “Maybe.”
She wraps her legs around my waist.
I carry her to the bedroom. “You want to see if you can do the trick?”
She kisses the corner of my mouth. “What if I’m not the one?”
“At least I’ll get another chance to taste that sugar. But when your pussy is screaming for mercy, don’t say you weren’t warned.”
SIX
The man is a pussy eating king.
Hands down.
Best ever.
I lie, beyond spent, in his arms. I must’ve had six orgasms over the last two hours—actually, it might’ve been more. I lost count.
He gathers me closer, tucking my head beneath his chin, weaving his leg through mine as he almost scoots under me. I breathe him in, his scent a mixture of my soap and his own manly spice.
I haven’t been cuddled in—wait—I don’t even remember the last time Matt took time to hold me. He’d get his and then roll off and start snoring.
I snuggle up to Adam’s chest, his heart beating against my ear, steady and strong.
He traces his fingers over my arm, from shoulder to elbow and back. “You warm enough? Cool enough?”
“I’m good.” And I really am. I close my eyes. “Thank you for asking.”
He settles into the mattress a bit more, giving me a slight squeeze. “I’ll always ask.”
I catch my breath as heat radiates through my chest.
Oh Lord, I could end up in trouble with this guy.
Matt never asked about my physical comfort. Not once that I recall. He’d set the thermostat to suit himself, and I’d have to layer on or take something off if it wasn’t to my liking.
This warmth in my chest is bad. Very bad. I have to get things on a non-emotional playing field. I can’t let Adam in. This is supposed to be strictly for fun, for breaking the dam of words in my brain to get them flowing again. That’s it. Nothing more.
I ask, “Speaking of comfort, do you want to go take a cold shower or something?”
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to break Adam’s no-come situation. He’s still as erect as ever.
He kisses my crown. “It wouldn’t matter. As soon as I see you again, it’ll spring to life. Been happening like that since I first tasted you.”
I push up, straining to see him through the darkened room. “I can head on home. You must be uncomfortable.”
“No. Stay.” He repositions me against him. “I like having you in my arms. It’s worth the discomfort.”
“I feel terrible though.” I kiss his nipple.
“Don’t. It isn’t you. I promise. It’s the way I am. You’re good. So. Fucking. Good.”
I let my fingers trail over his washboard abs. His cock jumps whenever I veer close to it. My mouth might be swollen tomorrow, and my neck definitely needs a chiropractor after all the dick sucking I did. Still, I couldn’t get him there.
I’m not sure whether this is the gr
eatest thing ever or a tragedy beyond words and something to be mourned.
Adam won’t hang around long if I can’t make him come. What guy would?
Hell, I had getting Matt off down to an art, and he didn’t stay.
That tender spot in my self-esteem withers a little each time I think of Matt. So I push him out of my mind. He doesn’t deserve another thought from me.
Instead, I focus on the man who just blew me away with his tongue and his masterful understanding of the female anatomy.
I kiss every ripple of muscle leading to the V directing me to his massive cock—at least eight and a half, maybe nine very long inches of never-ending pleasure.
Injury or no, he’s got a gift.
I tickle the head of his erection with the tip of my tongue. “I’m going to try again.”
“I told you—”
I lay a finger over his lips. “Or we could give good old-fashioned sex a whirl. We haven’t tried that yet. Let’s see if we can get you there that way.”
He takes my hand and kisses the knuckles of each finger. “I’m not fucking you. I don’t have any condoms, and you said you don’t either, so no.”
I sigh. “I’ll go buy some. There’s a drugstore not too far from here, you know.”
He pulls me up to lie beside him. “I’d wear you out, and then you won’t be able to write tomorrow. All I want is for you to let me hold you while you sleep, Beautiful Girl.”
* * *
My head hits the mattress, and my eyes fly open.
Where am I?
Something—no, someone—thrashes at my side.
Adam.
I swipe my hand over my face, letting my eyes adjust to the minimal light.
He tosses from one side to the other, mumbling so low I can’t understand the words—if they’re words at all.
Do I wake him?
Should I sneak home? Yeah, I probably should.
I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, the only piece of furniture in his room. His bedroom is as bare as the rest of the house.
Now, where did my top end up? And my skirt?
I stand.
A hand lands on my lower back.
So Long: Bad Boy Next Door Page 5