Tempt Our Fate (Sutten Mountain, #2)(63)
“I’ll punish you later for calling me boring. You won’t think that of me when you can’t walk straight because I fucked you so good. You’ll be reminded of the fun we had for days.”
My entire body heats because I think he means it. And I think I’m eager for it.
He must find my gawking amusing because he laughs, running his hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it. “You better get ready for work, shortcake. You can’t ogle me all day.”
“You know, for you to fu…” My words fall short because I don’t know if I can say the word out loud to him.
“Fuck you?”
I quickly nod my head up and down again. “Yeah. That. For you to do that, I meant it when I said you have to work for it.”
He swings his legs over the bed, placing his feet on my fluffy, pink rug. His palm runs along his very obvious erection. “Let me take you on a date, then.”
I almost drop the hairbrush I’d just picked up from the shock of his words. “Date?”
He stands to his full height, reaching his hands over his head to stretch. My eyes get stuck on the trail of dark hair that runs into his briefs. I remember my fingers sliding over it the other night, leading me right to his awaiting cock.
“Yes. A date. You, me, and wherever you think we should go in this town.”
“You have to earn it, but I’m the one planning the date?”
He closes the distance between us, watching me closely as I run the brush through my tangled hair. “I have no problem planning the date, but I figured you’d want to decide. You know what’s best here in Sutten.”
It’s the way he says Sutten instead of saying this town or putting some kind of negative connotation on it. He says it casually. I could get used to him saying Sutten in conversation.
“Am I right?” he presses.
“I have some ideas.” There are so many places we could go. My mind runs rampant with ideas, trying to decide where I’d like to take him.
“I knew you would. Is this part of your ploy to get me to see the beauty in Sutten?” He says “beauty” sarcastically but not in a condescending way. It’s more playful.
“I guess you’ll have to find out.”
“I think I’m already seeing the appeal.” His voice is gruff, his eyes boring into mine with what I think—or maybe hope—is affection.
“Yeah?”
He grabs me by the neck, pulling our lips together. He lazily kisses me, like he has all the time in the world. The kiss stops, but he only pulls away slightly. “I could get used to this town. This place. You.” The last word is said quieter, like he’s unsure if he should be adding it or not.
I rise to my tiptoes, planting another kiss on his lips, giving him the only answer I can at the moment. “I’ve got to get ready now, or my new boy toy is going to make me late,” I joke, my lips moving against his.
“Boy toy?”
“Yep.”
He pulls my lip between his teeth, biting down to create the slightest tinge of pain. “You better start getting ready for work.” He spins me by my shoulder, pushing me into my en suite bathroom. I let out a loud yelp when he slaps my ass. “Our date is tonight. As soon as you’re off, you’re mine.”
“Are you leaving now?” I ask, keeping eye contact with him through the bathroom mirror, watching him pull on his shirt from last night.
“No. We’re going to ride to work together, you’re going to make me a coffee, and then we’re going to both do our jobs before I get you after the workday ends. You decide what we’ll do for our date.”
“And then what?”
He slides his legs into his jeans, looking up at me with a sly smile. “By then, I’ll have earned your pussy, baby. After our date, I’m going to fuck you all night—making good on the punishments you’ve earned.”
35
CAMDEN
The day drags by achingly slow. Too fucking slow. It’s a shame I actually have to get work done because all I really want to do is walk next door and see Pippa. I want to steal her—even if she’s kicking and screaming—and pull her all the way back to her house. Or she can come to my place. I just need to be near her again. I want to feel her soft, warm body sleeping next to mine. I want to run my fingers along her bare skin, further exploring every single inch of her exquisite body.
I want to hear her soft moans in her sleep when my fingers play with the waistband of her pj’s. I want to see how many orgasms I can get from her until she’s begging for a break, her body too spent to take any more.
I want to sit on the living room floor and talk about life with her. I want to know about her childhood, to hear the silly stories of the trouble she got into. She seemed to be a rebellious teenager, and I want to know every detail from every day of her life from her very first memory to the moment she met me. I’m obsessed with knowing everything there is to know about her, and I’m afraid of what that could mean for me.
I’ve never been like this with a woman. Quite frankly, I’ve never cared about women. I’ve ended up in mutually agreed-upon relationships that were based on sex alone. The expectations were clear from the very beginning. Feelings weren’t supposed to get involved at any point in time. And if I ever felt like someone wasn’t holding up their end of the bargain by not developing feelings, I’d simply leave.