Pen Pal(20)

I say tartly, “That your life is in danger?”

“That now I know what you sound like when you come.”

“So what about it?”

He lowers his head and bites my earlobe, then says gruffly, “So it’s my new favorite sound. I want to hear it again.”

Then he thrusts his hips, driving into me.

My moan is broken. Eyelids fluttering, I say, “How are you still hard?”

“I’m not done fucking you yet, that’s how.”

“Oh, that reminds me. You promised you were going to make love to me, not fuck me.”

“Semantics.” He thrusts again.

I say breathlessly, “No, I remember. You said make love.”

“I said I’d give you what you need. Which is exactly what I’m doing.” He thrusts again, this time leaning down to suck hard on the side of my throat as he does it.

I moan softly, arching against him, tilting my head to give him better access to my neck as I rock my pelvis into his.

It makes him chuckle darkly. “See?”

Tugging on a lock of his hair, I whisper, “Time to shut up now, Aidan.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Without another word, he snaps his hips, driving his hard cock into me. He does it again when I shudder and moan. He keeps up the pace, fucking me relentlessly and kissing me all over my neck and breasts, until I start to buck and cry out, clawing my fingernails into his shoulders.

His mouth next to my ear, he says in a guttural voice, “Is this what you need, baby? You like it rough? Or do you want me to recite some poetry and make you a cup of fucking tea?”

“This! This!”

His laugh is so dark and pleased, it makes me shiver. I orgasm listening to that laugh and wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.





12





I wake in dim gray morning light in Aidan’s arms.

My head rests on his chest. His heart thumps a slow, steady beat beneath my ear. He’s got both his big heavy arms wrapped around my body, holding me tight, even in sleep.

I take a moment to orient myself to this new version of reality where I’m waking up on a mattress on the floor with a man who lives over a bar and has more tattoos on his chest alone than everyone else I know has combined, and decide almost instantly that I like it.

Him, I mean.

I like him.

That surprises me. I’m not prone to liking people in general. I mildly distrust most people until I get to know them better, which is usually when I decide I don’t ever want to see them again.

Michael and I had that in common. A vague disappointment in and aversion to the human race as a whole. It’s a miracle he was so good at his job, considering he had to interact with so many people on a daily basis in his classroom.

Thinking about Michael sobers me. He’d be shocked if he could see me right now.

“What are you doing?” he’d cry, his brow creased in dismay. “The man probably doesn’t even have a college degree!”

He was a snob about higher education. It was a point of contention between us that I was satisfied with my bachelor’s degree in fine arts and had no desire to go for a master’s.

But of the two of us, I was the more practical one. And tighter with money. I couldn’t justify going further into debt for an additional degree that wouldn’t help me earn more. But to Michael, education was its own reward.

I found paying the bills on time plenty rewarding enough.

His voice thick with sleep, Aidan says, “You awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I need to fuck you again.”

As I laugh softly, he rolls me over to my back and kisses my neck. “You’re not even awake yet, Fight Club.”

He lifts his head and gazes down at me with heavy-lidded eyes. “Fight Club?”

“That’s what I thought when I first saw you. That you looked like the founder of a fight club.” Then I grimace. “Is that bad?”

“No. Because I am the founder of a fight club.”

I gape at him. “Seriously?”

“No. I just wanted to see what you’d do when I said that.”

“Ugh. Your terrible sense of humor is showing again.”

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He is very, very handsome in the muted morning light. I reach up and brush a lock of dark hair out of his eyes, tracing my fingertip across his forehead and over a silky eyebrow. I whisper, “I like your widow’s peak. It’s sexy.”

“So’s your gorgeous ass.”

I can feel myself blushing. “Thank you.”

He rubs his cheek against mine, dragging his beard against it, and says into my ear, “Almost as sexy as that desperate little moan you make when you’re getting close to coming for me.”

I hide my face in his neck, close my eyes, and wish I could do something about how furiously I’m blushing. My face feels as if it’s on fire.

He chuckles. “Don’t be shy. I love it.”

Because I have no idea how to respond to that, I whisper, “Okay.”

Kissing my neck, he whispers back, “How do you want me to fuck you, sweet Kayla?”

Oh, God. There isn’t enough time in the world to cover all of it. “Um…vigorously?”