With Me in Seattle Bundle One

by Kristen Proby

  I shake it over her shoulder, dropping powdered sugar on her skin, and lean down and lick it off.

  “Mmm,” I groan. “Good stuff.”

  No response.

  So I shake some more over her neck and dive after it, lapping it up.

  She opens one eye, briefly, then snaps it shut quickly. I grin and pull the sheet down to her waist, exposing her perfect little body, and shake more sugar over her breasts.

  I lick it up and then take a big bite of the beignet. “Open your mouth,” I instruct her, and she complies readily. I chuckle as I feed her the remaining portion of the fried dough, then dive in the bag for another and continue to shake the sugar on her delectable body, then eat the beignet, sharing pieces with her.

  “I think you’ll need to be my plate more often, babe. You make everything taste sweeter.”

  “Cheeky bastard,” she mumbles sleepily, and I laugh out loud.

  Grabbing a fresh doughnut, I move between her legs, shoulder her thighs wide apart and settle in for some fun.

  Fuck, she’s already wet. Sleepy, my ass. She’s playing with me.

  God, I love her.

  I shake some sugar over her pussy and watch it fall like snow on her pink flesh. Her clit is hard, that silver piercing just begging for my tongue. So I lean forward and lick her, from her soft folds to that warm metal, and all around, licking up every last bit of sugar, then take a bite of doughnut. I look up at her face, and her eyes are open now, watching me, her gorgeous hazel gaze shining with lust, hands fisting the sheets. I offer her the doughnut, and she takes it from me and flings it over the side of the bed, licks her fingers and plunges them into my hair with a huge grin on her gorgeous face.

  “Didn’t want anymore?” I ask with a grin.

  “I’ve had enough of those.”

  “Me, too. But I haven’t had enough of this.” I spread her with my thumbs, opening her up to me, and kiss her, plunging my tongue inside her and licking all around. Her hips buck up against my face, but I hold her firmly, not letting her twist away.

  She goes fucking crazy when I eat her out. It’s the sexiest damn shit I’ve ever seen.

  Replacing my mouth with my hands, I move up to tease the metal at her clit, not flicking at it, but lapping at it, pushing it, and tugging it, ever so gently, with my teeth.

  “Will!” she cries and bucks again.

  I push my fingers down, then pull them out and lick them. “Yes, love?”

  “Need you in me.”

  “I’ve been in you, sweetheart.” I push my fingers back in to prove my point, making her moan.

  “Come up here,” she pants.

  “What do you need?” I ask and brush her clit with my nose, making her squirm and me smile.

  “You. Always you.”

  “Fuck yes, me.” I climb up her body and lie over her. She cradles me against her, her strong legs wrapped around my waist, arms around my shoulders and fingers in my hair, and I just lean on my elbows and gaze down at her.

  “You are so fucking incredible, Megan.”

  Her eyelids droop, and she blushes like she does when she’s happy. I brush my lips over hers and slide my cock through her wetness, pushing her piercing with the tip, and she bites my lower lip.

  “Like that?”

  “Mmm.” She nods slightly and cups my ass with her hands, tugging me closer to her.

  God, I want to be inside her. I need to be inside her.

  I rear back and slowly push through the wetness, through her swollen folds, and sink in until I feel her resistance.

  She’s so damn tight.

  “This is my favorite place to be,” I whisper to her and feel her smile against my neck.

  “It’s the top of my list, too,” she whispers back.

  And slowly, we begin to move. Everything in me is telling me to fuck the shit out of her, to pound her and mark her until I’m all she sees and all she knows. All she remembers.

  But on this sticky, sweet morning, all I want is to go slow. To be gentle with her. To memorize every sigh, every moan, every tightening of her muscles as she holds me to her.

  I just want to make love to my girl.

  And so I do, until she’s writhing and shuddering, and I feel those sweet muscles around my cock tighten like a fucking vice.

  “Let go, babe,” I whisper and watch avidly as she tightens, every muscle in her delectable body clenching and pulsing around me, and cries out my name as she erupts.

  I can’t hold it in any longer, and I come hard as she continues to move and shudder, my face pressed to her neck as I tell her how much I love her.

  It hurts, just a little, that she can’t say it back. But she will.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ~Meg~

  “I had a great time this week.” I am snuggled up to Will’s side in our cab on the way to my place from the airport. The Seattle evening is rainy and dark. “Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me, babe.” He kisses my hair and tightens the arm around my shoulders. “I had fun, too. We’ll go again soon.”

  “It’s a date.”

  “Why don’t you just come back to my place with me?” he asks for the third time, making me chuckle.

  “Because I need to unpack, do some laundry and get ready to go back to work. And so do you.”

  “I could stay at your place with you. If you don’t mind my dirty underwear being washed with yours.” I hear the humor in his voice and lean back to look up into his handsome face.

  “You’re always welcome at my place.” I plant a kiss on his cheek and rest my head on his shoulder again. “I need to make you a key.”

  He smiles against my hair and kisses me again as I see my town house come into view.

  And the woman sitting on my steps.

  Fuck me!

  “Shit.”

  “Who is that?” Will asks as I pull out of his arms.

  “Sylvia.”

  “Fuck,” he whispers.

  “Exactly.”

  I jump out of the car as Will throws bills at the cab driver and stalk angrily up to the beaten-down, trashy woman smirking at me on the stairs.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “You hung up on me, so I thought I’d just come talk to you in person. What, you’re not happy to see mommy dearest?”

  “Get the fuck off my property.”

  “That’s no way to speak to your mother.” Her eyes flash as she stands, and the sight of her makes me sick. She’s too thin, about my height. Her auburn hair is full of gray, hazel eyes dull and skin ashy. Her old clothes hang on her slight frame. At one time, she was really pretty.

  Now she just looks old and worn. And she’s not even fifty yet. My stomach rolls.

  “You know you’re not welcome here,” I tell her, my voice strong, arms crossed over my chest, ignoring the rain falling on me.

  “So this is your new young man.” Her lips spread in what she considers her flirty smile, but her teeth are yellow, and she just looks…pathetic. “Hi there.”

  Will is standing behind me now, his hands on my shoulders, showing me his support, and I’ve never been more thankful for him.

  “I believe Megan asked you to leave.” His voice is hard and firm.

  Her smile disappears, replaced with a cold sneer. “I’m not leaving until I get more money out of this ungrateful little bitch.”

  “I told you…”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you told me. You owe me! I want what’s mine!” She marches down the stairs to get in my face, but Will pulls me aside and steps in front of me, looking down at Sylvia with fire in his eyes.

  “She doesn’t owe you anything. She asked you to leave. Don’t make me call the cops.” His voice is low and pissed, and Sylvia takes a step back, her eyes wide and stunned.

  Did she really think she could just show up here and leave with a pocket full of money?

  Yes.

  Because I always give in to her. No matter how ashamed I feel later, I alwa
ys give in.

  No more.

  “Go back to Montana, Sylvia. You wasted your time coming here,” I mutter angrily as I link my hand with Will’s. He squeezes my hand reassuringly.

  “I don’t have any money!” she whines.

  “Not my problem. I sent you money.”

  “Not enough,” she spits out.

  “It’s the last you’ll get from me.” My voice is low now and firm.

  Her eyes register surprise again, and then they narrow on my face with such hatred I take a step backward. Will frowns down at me and squeezes my hand again.

  “You’ll send it. You know what will happen if you don’t. I’ll go to the press and tell them all about the big football star’s new girlfriend. What a piece of trash she is. Where she comes from.” Sylvia sneers at me. “Won’t that be great publicity for him?”

  “Call the police,” Will states calmly, and Sylvia’s jaw drops.

  “I’ll go to the press—”

  “Go to the press. Go anywhere you want, as long as it’s not here. I don’t give a shit what you say. Megan is not trash. She just comes from it.”

  I gape up at him, as Sylvia gasps at the insult.

  “You can’t hurt her,” he says. “She’s told you to leave, now leave.”

  She looks at me, her mouth set in a grim line. “Fine.”

  She marches down to the ancient Honda parked at the curb and then looks back at me. “You always were a worthless piece of—”

  “Get the fuck out!” Will yells, cutting her off.

  She jumps in her car and speeds away.

  I can’t move. I just stand here, in the rain, hugging myself, and watch her car disappear down the street.

  “Look at me.”

  I’m too ashamed. Jesus, what must he think of me now? I bury my face in my hands and will the tears back.

  Crying won’t solve anything.

  “Just go, Will.”

  “Look at me,” he repeats, his hands on my shoulders now. “Megan, stop. Look at me.”

  I look up into his eyes, still so embarrassed.

  “I’m so sorry…”

  “Shh.” He shakes his head and hugs me to him, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, pinning my arms against his chest, and I’ve never felt so safe. “I’m sorry she’s so horrible.”

  “I meant it,” I mumble against him. “I’m not sending her any more money.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “You’re not either. She will ask you.”

  “Hmm,” he murmurs, noncommittally.

  “I mean it.”

  “Okay. Let’s go inside.” He picks up our bags and leads me into the house, disarming the alarm.

  “I’m surprised she didn’t try to break in and wait for me in the house,” I comment. That’s her usual MO.

  “She must have seen the alarm. See? I told you you needed an alarm.” He offers me a smug smile, and my chest loosens. I don’t want to think about Sylvia anymore. She can’t hurt me.

  I snicker as he turns to pick up our bags and take them upstairs. “Yes, you were right.”

  “What did you say?” he asks sarcastically.

  “You’re handsome,” I reply with a grin.

  “No, that’s not what you said.”

  “I like your shirt?”

  “Nope.” He sets the bags down and slowly saunters to me, his eyes narrowed and a smile tickling his lips. “Tell me.”

  “Um…I think we should order dinner in?”

  He laughs now, full-out, and the knot in my stomach from seeing Sylvia is gone.

  “I think you said something about me being right.”

  “Did not,” I scoff.

  “Did, too.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” I reply and shake my head. “You must be thinking of someone else.”

  “No, you’re the only beautiful, smart-mouthed woman on my mind these days.”

  “Gee, that’s so good to hear.”

  He sweeps in and throws me over his shoulder, heading for the stairs.

  “Hey! Our luggage!”

  “We’ll get it later. I think I need to teach you a lesson.”

  “What kind of lesson?” I look down at his firm, tight ass and give it a little smack, just because I can.

  He smacks mine back, making me yelp.

  “The fun kind.”

  I smile and brace myself on his lean hips as he easily climbs the stairs.

  God, I love him.

  ***

  “So, you’re playing Arizona next Sunday?” I ask from my spot on the couch.

  Will taught me my lesson. I think I may need more lessons like that in the future. I’m a slow learner.

  Then we ordered in dinner, and now we’re watching football.

  Well, Will is watching football. I’m about to paint my toenails.

  “Yes.”

  “At home?” I ask casually.

  “Yes.” He smiles at me. “And after the game, the whole family is going to my mom and dad’s for dinner. It’ll probably be the last weekend this year that we can still enjoy their backyard.”

  “Okay.”

  “I want you there.”

  It isn’t a request and makes me smile. I want to be there.

  “Okay,” I say again.

  Will nods and goes back to watching his game, that being settled.

  I shake my red nail polish and pull my right foot up onto the couch, my heel tucked against my ass, and buff my toenails, then open the polish. Before I can swipe the brush down the first toenail, Will interrupts me.

  “Can I do that?”

  I whip my head up to meet his eyes, surprised. “What?”

  “I want to do that.”

  “Why?”

  He just shrugs and smiles as he slides across the couch, pulls my foot into his lap, causing me to turn so my back is against the armrest, and holds his hand out, waiting for me to hand over the polish.

  “Are you sure?”

  He just raises an eyebrow at me, that cocky smile still on his lips, and I hand the polish to him.

  “It’s not as easy as it looks, you know.”

  “I’m quite sure I can do it.”

  “I thought you were watching football.”

  “I’m listening.”

  I shake my head and settle back against the soft cushion, arms folded over my belly, and watch his dark blond head bow over my foot, his big hand using the polish wand to methodically paint each toenail.

  Miraculously, he doesn’t end up painting my skin.

  “You shouldn’t be doing your own toes,” he murmurs under his breath.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You shouldn’t be doing your own toes,” he repeats, raising his head to look me in the eye.

  “Why ever not?”

  “Because you should pamper yourself and go get pedicures.”

  “Oh please.” I wave him off. “Who has time for that?”

  “You only work three days a week, babe.”

  “Well, now that I’m not sending every last dime to Sylvia anymore, I’ll splurge,” I comment with a smile, but the look he sends me is feral.

  “That’s why you do your own feet? Why you barely have basic cable? How much have you been sending her?”

  “None of your business.” I try to pull my foot away, but he grabs my ankle and holds strong.

  “It is my business.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Megan, don’t fight me on this. I’m in love with you, damn it, and you’re sending money you need to that piece of shit of a human being. Now, tell me, how much do you send her?”

  “Anything that’s left over.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “What I said. I pay the bills, buy groceries and keep a little for incidentals and send her the rest.”

  “Fuck, Meg.”

  “I already said I’m done. I meant it.”

  “Damn straight, you meant it.”

  “Why does this bother you so much? It’s
not your money.”

  “It’s not about the money. It’s about that woman taking advantage of you, and you letting her, and it kills me that you’ve been going without when you didn’t need to be.”

  “I don’t go without.” I shake my head and push my hands though my hair in frustration. “Trust me, Will, I know what it is to go without. This isn’t it. I have everything I need. I’m fine.”

  “You’re fine.”

  “I’m fine,” I repeat. “I don’t need to be rich. I’m happy with what I have. You do know that I’m not with you because of your fat contract, right?”

  He laughs like I’ve just said the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. “Trust me, babe, you’re no gold digger.”

  “Well, there you go then.” I shrug.

  He goes back to my toes, and we sit in silence, the game playing in the background, as he carefully paints each little toe. When he’s done with the second coat, he replaces the wand, tightens the bottle and then blows on my toes to help them dry.

  It tickles.

  “Your toes are so small,” he comments softly.

  I sigh as I just watch him pamper my feet. This big, strong man, gently painting my tiny toes. It’s adorable.

  And sweet.

  He loves me.

  “Thanks for painting them,” I murmur.

  “You’re welcome,” he replies with a grin. “It wasn’t so hard.”

  “Maybe I’ll let you paint them from now on.” I wink at him, and he chuckles, sending shivers through me. I love his voice. I love making him laugh.

  “I think I’ll just send you to the spa with Jules and Nat.”

  “You’re not sending me…”

  “Shut up, Megan.” He pulls me into his lap, careful not to mess up my fresh paint, and kisses me hard, until we’re both breathless. “Just let me spoil you a little, okay?”

  “You do spoil me.”

  He brushes a strand of hair off my cheek and kisses my forehead, then settles me against him so we can finish the football game.

  “Get used to it,” he whispers.

  ***

  “How was vacation?” Jill asks as she leans on the counter next to me where I’m charting, and passes me a Starbucks.

  “Fantastic,” I reply with a smug grin.

  “I hate you. You know that, right?”

  “You love me.” I laugh at her and give her a hug. “It’s good to be back. Thanks for this.”