Motorcycle Man (Dream Man #4)(67)

Tack’s eyes flashed with amusement as he said, “I bet you can, Red, but what’s up for debate is if you can not argue about every f**kin’ thing.”

My back went straight. “I was being nice!”

“I see you can’t,” he muttered, his lips tipped up at the edges.

“Whatever,” I snapped. “Wait on me. See if I care. I’ll just sit here and sniff chops.”

“Honest to God,” Tack kept muttering as he moved away from me and toward the fridge, “she’s pissed I’m gettin’ her a glass of wine while I’m cookin’ for her.”

“I’m not pissed, pissed. I’m mildly pissed but only because you won’t let me help,” I amended.

Tack stopped, fingers wrapped around the fridge door handle, and he twisted to me. “Tomorrow, you can take care of me. Deal?”

I stared at him. Then I agreed, “Deal.”

If I wasn’t mistaken, I saw his grin right before his head disappeared in the fridge.

Then it occurred to me that I could argue about every f**king thing, including Tack getting me a glass of wine.

Which even I had to admit was ridiculous.

But, if that grin was any indication, Tack liked it.

So I looked at my lap and grinned too.

Because I was, at that moment, really glad he did.

* * * * *

My head snapped back and I gasped, “Oh my God.”

Then I came. Hard.

The instant I did, Tack whipped me to my back and kept pounding deep. So I wrapped all four limbs around him tight and kept coming. Harder.

“Fuck,” Tack muttered against my mouth between grunts, “my girl’s got a greedy f**kin’ *.”

He was right. I did. Because I was still coming.

When I stopped coming, Tack was still driving deep and it felt so freaking good, it started to build again.

I held him tight, lifting my h*ps to take him deeper and slid one hand up his back, his neck and into his thick, longish hair as I whispered against his lips, his goatee tickling my skin, “Honey, you have to come or I’m gonna come again.”

“This is a problem?” he grunted back.

I saw his point.

So I smiled against his mouth.

He slanted his head and kissed me.

About thirty seconds later, I came again.

About a minute after that, Tack did.

About thirty seconds after that, Tack’s hand slid lightly down the skin of my side, causing tingles that hit mid-range on the pleasant scale but high on the soothing scale and his lips at my neck whispered, “Like that.”

I liked it too. All of it. Going down on him and Tack returning the favor. Then, because he was so good at it, getting greedy, pushing him to his back and him letting me. Then climbing on and riding him until I came. And last, finishing when he flipped me and rode me until I came again and he did too.

Yeah, I liked it. All of it.

“I like it too,” I whispered then suggested. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk, just have sex. Obviously, that works for us.”

His head came up and his dancing eyes caught mine. “Obviously. But that wasn’t what I was talkin’ about.”

“What were you talking about?”

“You called me ‘honey’,” he answered then muttered, “Sweeter, hearing you say that when I’m buried inside you.”

His words hit me and that hit was well above the mid-range of the pleasant scale

“Though, wouldn’t know,” he went on, “since you haven’t called me that except just now when I was buried inside you.”

My head tilted on the mattress. “I haven’t?”

“Nope. You’ve called my kids that. You’ve called your girl that. You haven’t called me that.”

Boy, he’d really been paying attention.

“Well, I didn’t know I liked you until about eight fifteen this morning so that’s not surprising.”

He grinned. “You knew you liked me.”

Arrogant. Annoying. But hot.

“I didn’t,” I retorted. “Except that first night but I thought that was a fluke because, since then, you were a jerk.”

His grin got bigger.

“Sometimes a scary jerk,” I went on.

His grin turned into a smile.

“And, I will admit, sometimes a sweet jerk.”

He started chuckling and I liked that since he was still on me and inside me so I tightened my limbs around him and enjoyed the ride.

But, like all rides, it ended. Fortunately, it ended with Tack pulling out gently then rolling both of us so we were righted in the bed and I had one side in the covers and one side resting on him. I slid my arm along his belly, laid my cheek on his shoulder and relaxed into him.

“Now that you know I’m not a jerk, I gonna hear more of that?” he asked when we’d settled and I lifted my head to look at him to see his goatee’d chin dipped down to look at me.

“You want to hear it?” I asked back, my voice soft.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yes, why?”

“’Cause, babe, you say it to people you like and people who mean somethin’ to you and clue in, I wanna be both.”

Oh God.