Junkyard Dog(34)

“You need to get your shit in order,” I grumble as if I’m not sporting a painful boner.

“We can do it here,” she says, tugging her shirt over her head.

I take in the sight of her pink bra restraining handfuls of soft flesh. My mind imagines what her nipples look like. I see them pushing hard against the fabric, begging for my touch. I can already taste them between my teeth.

“Not here. Your kids could walk down and see. Trust me a boy’s greatest horror is seeing his mom getting banged.”

Candy smiles at my comment, but her eyes remain dilated with lust. “We could go in the kitchen. Or the bathroom.”

“You’ve lost your damn mind,” I say, even if I’m imagining Candy’s * splayed out on the kitchen island for me to feast on.

Her hands take one of mine and force me to cup her tit. I squeeze without thinking. I know I need to stop, but I ache to tear off her clothes and shove my cock deep inside her body.

“Please,” she murmurs while my thumb strokes her fat nipple hiding behind the bra.

I kiss her as my free hand gropes her other tit. I’m going to f*ck her right here and worry about kids and consequences later. My fingers pull aside the cup on her bra, just before I suck her tit into my mouth. Her nipple grows harder against my teasing tongue.

I’ve never wanted to f*ck someone so badly in my life, but I force myself to let her go. Not quickly. Not easily, but I stop.

“No,” I say while nearly lunging away from her. “I am not the bad guy f*cking up your life. I’m the voice of f*cking reason here.”

Candy stares at me with glazed eyes and rosy cheeks. She wants me to f*ck her so badly that I can even smell her arousal. The musky scent calls to me, but I’m not a horny teenager or animal. I will control myself.

“Get your shit together,” I demand again.

Candy lifts an eyebrow and then glances down at where I’m stroking her still exposed nipple.

Rolling my eyes, I force my hands to leave her. She doesn’t put her tit back in her bra. The woman is f*cking killing me with her inability to turn off her arousal. Voice of f*cking reason or not, I’m minutes away from tearing off her jeans and drilling my cock inside her.

“You need to put that away,” I say, gesturing toward her tit still shiny from my tongue.

“You took it out. You put it away.”

I frown as mean as I can at her, but Candy is in a state of arousal where her brain has left the building and is waiting for a flight out of the country. I don’t know when it might return.

More carefully than when I yanked her tit free, I return it to the cup. Then I take her shirt and slide it over her head. She won’t help me with her arms, and I feel like I’m dressing an unwilling child.

“I’m leaving,” I say once she’s dressed.

“My shirt is on backward,” she mocks in a voice filled with desire. “You should try again.”

“And you called me the devil,” I say, standing up and hurrying out of the room.

I don’t even hear Candy, but she’s right behind me when I open the door and embrace the cold night. Her fingers cling to my shirt.

“Tell me why?”

I cup her face and take in the sight of her desperate expression. She really is an extraordinarily beautiful woman, and I swear she gets better looking every day.

“You and I are complicated, but f*cking like this is simple. We don’t do simple, Candy. Now take a cold shower, and I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

A cold breeze brushes past us, and Candy wraps her arms around her body.

“No cold shower for me. I’ll keep it steamy and find relief,” she taunts, still hoping to get me to f*ck her. “Good luck with your hand.”

“You’re being a bitch.”

Candy gives me a wide smile. “Thank you, Angus.”

“For what?”

“Dinner and being sweet to my kids. Also for getting me riled up and knowing when to leave me hanging. You’re not such a bad guy.”

Candy says the words, but I don’t think she believes the last few. She still worries I’m the man who’ll ruin her. While I wouldn’t mind ruining her for all other men, destroying Candy isn’t an option. I’m not a monster despite what my enemies claim.





TWENTY ONE - CANDY


Awkward isn't a strong enough word for how I feel when I arrive at work after my lust tantrum. I don’t know how Hayes will react. He might taunt me or ignore what happened or try to f*ck me on his desk.

As usual, Hayes is already working when I arrive. I poke my head into his office and study him. His hair is still damp from an early shower, and his soapy scent returns my body to lust mode.

Smiling casually, I ask, “Need any coffee?”

Hayes looks up from his laptop and stares blankly at me. “Will you hump my leg like a dog if I say no?”

Rolling my eyes, I leave him to gloat. At my desk, I try to concentrate, but Hayes looks too damn sexy in the morning.

I hear him get up from his chair, and the sound of his boots against the hardwood floor mimics the banging of my heart. I pray his gloating doesn’t last the entire day.

“Hey, horndog, get your coat, and we’ll eat breakfast.”

I stand up and go to the door without looking at him. Hayes takes one long step and ends up next to me.