Motorcycle Man
How did he do that? Answer questions that had no good answers with a good answer.
“You’re still pissed,” Tack observed, clearly feeling my vibe.
“Well, yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because you have good answers to questions that have no good answers and that’s annoying.”
“Why is that annoying?”
“Because I’m a woman. We get annoyed at all sorts of things that make no sense.”
“Now who has a good answer to a question that doesn’t have a good answer?”
Argh!
Sharp as a freaking tack!
“Now you’re annoying because you’re too clever for my own good,” I informed him then I found myself on my back with Tack on top of me, his face so close to mine I could feel his goatee tickling my chin.
“She’s gettin’ it,” he muttered.
“Getting what?”
“Why we work.”
I felt my breath start to get heavy so I had to force out my, “And why’s that?”
“Because I ain’t stupid and you aren’t stupid either. Because I’m wild and, you let loose from that green tea, salad and no TV shit, so are you. Because people are scared of me but you aren’t. We’re on equal footing, Red. No one has the upper hand.” His lips moved so they were touching mine when he finished, “’Cept you’re a damn sight prettier than me.”
Oh God, he was making me melt at the same time he was turning me on.
“You’re hot,” I told him, my hands sliding up the sleek skin and hard muscle of his back.
“Pleased you think so,” he replied, his hand sliding up the skin of my side.
“No, everyone would think so. Even a nun. She’d pray for your immortal soul but, if pressed, she would have to admit you’re good-looking because it’s a sin to lie.”
His hand stopped at my side and his thumb swept out, grazing the curve of my breast causing a delectable shiver to glide over my skin when he ordered, “Stop bein’ cute, baby. You’re makin’ me hard and I can’t f**k you when the kids are awake.”
My hands slid back down his back, down, down until my fingers curved in his hard ass as I breathed, “You can’t?”
“Fuck no. You’re a moaner.”
“I am?”
“Yeah. Loud.”
Oh God.
“Really?”
“It’s good. Really f**kin’ good when my mouth is on you or my dick’s inside you. When it ain’t good is when Tabby and Rush are down the hall.”
“I can see this,” I whispered, sliding my hands back up, fingers and palms flat, taking in all I could get, my touch light.
“And it’d be good, you stop touchin’ me.”
“I like touching you,” I said softly.
“I like it too, baby, but it ain’t helpin’ my fight to stop gettin’ hard.”
My hands stopped and I advised, “Then you might want to stop whispering against my lips, Tack, because that’s turning me on.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm hmm.”
“Doesn’t take much for you, does it, darlin’?”
With the others, it did.
But not with him.
I didn’t share that.
Instead I said, “It’s the goatee.”
“Bullshit, it’s me.”
He totally had me figured out.
“Well, it is your goatee.”
That was when I felt his lips smile against my mouth.
Then, alas, he lifted his lips from mine and stated, “Right, been a good night, Red. I learned somethin’ gets up your ass, you don’t delay and with only a little coaxing, you ask me about it. I learned you think I’m hot. I learned you can be cute when you’re turned on. And it’s a definite that I’m never shavin’ off this goatee.” I grinned at him through the dark but he concluded with, “Not that I was goin’ to anyway.”
“Well I’m glad you’ve declared that as a definite,” I told him with humor vibrating in my voice. “Brings me relief.”
“Babe, you’re still bein’ cute.”
“Oh. Right. I’ll stop doing that right away.”
“Christ, still f**kin’ cute,” he muttered and his thumb did another sweep and grazed the curve of my breast causing another shiver at the same time my ni**les got hard.
Time for a subject change.
“When something gets up my ass, I don’t delay in asking you about it?”
“Nope.”
“What was up my ass?”
“You cottoned onto the fact the kids didn’t blink I had a woman in my house. That crawled up your ass. You sat on it for about fifteen minutes. Only a little pressure from me, you put it out there.”
“Oh.”
“Before you ask and so you don’t have to think about it, I like that too. Definitely.”
“Good,” I whispered, giving him a squeeze with my arms.
“Fuck me, now she’s bein’ sweet.”
I laughed softly and offered, “You want me to get pissed and maybe throw a rant?”
“No, ‘cause that makes me hard too.”
“What doesn’t make you hard?”
“Comes to you, not much.”
Oh boy.
That was nice.
“Honey,” I whispered.
“Fuck, baby,” he growled, pressing his h*ps into me, “seriously, stop being sweet.”
“Maybe we should go to sleep. I can’t be anything unconscious.”
“Yeah you can. You go back to cute.”
I blinked up at him and asked, “Pardon?”
“You go back to cute. You got these times when you press close and you make noises.”
“I make…” I paused, “noises?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you saying I snore?”
“No. I’m sayin’ you make noises.”
“What kind of noises?”
Tack didn’t respond for a moment then he asked, “You don’t know you make ‘em?”
“No.”
“No other man told you about them?”
“No.”
“Fuck, how many men have you had?”
“Tack,” I steered him back to target, “noises?”
“In your throat. Like little moans. They’re cute.”
Oh God.
“They’re also hot.”
Well, that wasn’t so bad.
Tack went on. “They sound like you sound when I’m buildin’ it.”