Bad Boys of Romance:a Biker Anthology(7)

By: Kasey Millstead

She sits in the far corner of the couch, determined not to sit close to me at all. As she nibbles on her pizza, I don’t miss the concentrated glances she keeps sending my way. I don’t call her out on it though. Truth be told, I like her looking at me. Especially when she gets that lusty glaze clouding her eyes.

“Switch,” she calls, her voice solid. “I’m going to be blunt.”

“Okay?” I resist the urge smirk at her warning tone.

“Why are you here?”

Before I can answer, her eyes go wide and she winces. “I’m sorry, that came out incredibly rude. What I should have said is, thank you so much for the pizza and the beer, but I don’t understand why you’re here, considering you’re wearing a wedding ring. I can’t imagine why you’re not at home with your wife.”

I want to tell her the truth. I want to tell her that despite only meeting with her one time, she evokes feelings in me that I’ve never felt before. But, I don’t want to push her too far and end up pushing her further away.

“I thought we should get to know each other before the ball,” I say, lamely. Fuck! I should just man up. My pops never raised no damn pussy-assed man.

“Oh.” Her beautiful lips make a perfect ‘O’ and I want nothing more than to suck the plump bottom flesh into my mouth. If I’m not mistaken, a small dash of disappointment flicks across her eyes.

“Actually, that’s bullshit,” I admit, surprising myself. “I’m here because I can’t get you out of my fuckin’ mind. You’re all I think about. Yes, I have a wife. But, it’s not what you’re thinking. I’ll explain it all in due time, but honest-to-God, Jenna, I’m here because I want to explore things with you.” I lay it all out, surprising even myself with my forthrightness.

“You’re married and you want me to be your mistress,” she whispers, horrified.

“No! Fuck no! Jesus woman. What sort of man do you think I am?” I turn my body toward hers on the couch and grasp her chin, forcing her to look me in the eyes.

“Well, what did you think I would think?” she shrieks.

Fuck, that hurt my ears.

“You just admitted you’re married and in the same sentence you admit you want to explore where this goes with us!”

“Woman,” I growl, quickly losing my patience. Not at her, at myself, because I’m wording this all wrong.

“I think you should leave,” she rips out of my grasp, standing abruptly.

“No,” I rumble, my blood beginning to heat. I’m so fucking frustrated with myself, and she’s standing there in front of me, all assertive and throwing her confidence at me. Confidence I’m sure is a façade because I can see right through that shit. But, fuck if it doesn’t turn me on that she’s not afraid of me.

My cock twitches and I don’t even try to calm it.

Jenna marches over to the front door, swings it open and plants her hands on hips.

If she starts tapping that beautiful foot of hers I’m not going to be able to hold back my laughter.

“Leave.” She demands. Her eyes are heated, burning a rage at me, and all I can think about is how much fire burns behind them when she’s about to come.

I stride toward her, my dick leading me. I slam the door and back her up against the wall, my body a breath from hers.

“Switch,” she whispers, all traces of anger gone. Her chest rises and falls heavily with every breath she takes. I drop my eyes to her parted mouth and watch as her tongue sneaks out to trace along the seam. She’s driving me wild.

I take a half step so my body is pressed flush against hers. She’s tall for a woman, probably five foot nine. Her head tilts back to meet my eyes and I will my mind to stop thinking about the way my cock is pressing just above her pussy, right at the base of her stomach.

She can feel it. I know she can. She shifts slightly, her body rubbing across my shaft and I almost groan. Her nipples are pebbled. I can see them pressing through her top and it’s driving me crazy.

“You feel that?” I whisper, referring to the overwhelming electric current that permeating the entire fucking room.

“Yes,” she whispers back, her eyes glued to mine, heated, wanting.

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