The Lie(65)

“Well then,” she says when she recovers, quickly brushing her hair behind her ears. She smiles and looks around the bar. “That was unexpected.”

“Even after this afternoon?” I ask, reaching out and feeling her silky hair between my fingers, tugging on it gently. I wonder if she’d like to have it pulled later.

“I guess not,” she says, her voice becoming huskier. She meets my eyes and chews on her lip. “So, is the bar just a place to have foreplay?”

I smile. “It can be. I wasn’t sure how you felt after today, so I wanted to make it neutral. You know, in case you wanted to run for the hills.”

She gives her head a small shake. “I’m not running anymore.” She picks up her drink and slams the rest of it while darting her eyes to my beer. “Drink up,” she says when she’s finished.

“Trying to get me drunk?” I joke, but I drink the rest of it down easily.

“Trying to get us out of here,” she says, hopping off the stool.

I raise my brows. I wasn’t expecting her to be this eager, and I can’t pretend it’s not the biggest fucking turn-on.

I quickly put a few notes on the bar—plus some extra for Max’s sage advice—and we go. I’ve never been so thankful to have my place just across the street. We’re barely on the other side of the road before I’m attacking her, pressing her up against the bricks while my hands fumble for the keys in my jacket pocket.

Her neck tastes like cream, her smell sweet and heady, and even when I do find the key fob, it takes everything I have to pull my lips away from her, to do something else but revel in her taste.

Eventually we do get upstairs and into the flat. Winter is bounding toward us but neither Natasha nor I can even greet him hello. I kick the door shut with my foot, my lips unable to pull away from hers as we move backward into the room. Our clothes are quickly discarded. My jacket thrown across the room, landing on Winter, her shirt pulled over her head. My hands slip down the front of her jeans, desperate for her cunt as her hands try and undo my zipper.

We don’t make it to the bedroom. We thump hard against the bookcase, books dropping off the shelf. I’m ripping her bra down, my mouth going for her luscious breast as my pants drop to the floor. Winter is running around us howling, and I’m a terrible dog-father because I couldn’t care about anything right now except for Natasha.

But even as I’m taking her nipple into my mouth, nipping it between my teeth until she’s gasping and holding me by the back of my beck, I know I can’t do a thing to her until the dog is taken care of. Dogs are simultaneous chick magnets and cock blockers.

I break away, taking off my shirt so I’m just in my boxer briefs, and usher Winter into the bedroom, closing the door on him. He can do less damage in there.

He barks what I’m sure are a dozen swears in dog language that only Lachlan or Tarzan knows, but he soon shuts up. Tonight I wouldn’t care if he barked nonstop. My heart is beating too loudly in my ears to hear him properly. I have tunnel vision, and Natasha is all I see and think and hear.

“Is he okay in there?” she asks, but I kiss her before she can continue, taking off her bra and helping get rid of her jeans until the two of us are just in our underwear.

I grab her arms and move with her backward over to the couch where I push her down on it, her breasts jiggling as she falls back on the cushions.

“Fuck me,” I mutter, taking my dick out and giving it a long hard stroke as I stare down at her. She stares up at me with wide, nervous eyes, her lips parted, her golden hair across her face. Her nipples are hard, tiny pink peaks against the fullness of her breasts. Her torso leads smoothly to her hips and thighs that just beg for me to dig my teeth into them.

The sweet pink flash of her cunt.

“I’ll do more than that,” she says, pivoting around so she’s on all fours on the couch, prowling toward me. “I didn’t forget what you said about my lips.”

Fuck, I’m lucky.

No. Lucky is an understatement.

I move closer to the couch while she gets on her knees and reaches up for my cock, slowly wrapping her long fingers around it. The pressure reverberates along every inch of me, and I let out a harsh groan, the desire slamming into me.

“Lick me, slowly,” I tell her, my words coming out thick.

She flashes me a wicked smile before slowly sticking out her tongue and licking around the dark, swollen tip. My head goes back and my eyes close, giving into the feeling, even though I desperately want to maintain eye contact with her.

Her tongue slides down the bottom of my shaft and everything inside me tenses. I’ve never felt like this, this white-hot blistering lust that penetrates every last nerve. The tension inside me builds and builds into something more than primal, and when I finally open my eyes, practically panting, her sly eyes glance up at me with excitement. With her honey hair spilling around her lightly tanned shoulders, she looks like a fucking goddess that men would tell myths about.