What the hell was I thinking? Frustration at myself tangles with self-doubt. I brought the fucking sun into my home and it’s my own damn fault when I get burned to a damn crisp.
She probably thinks I took advantage of her yesterday. I know I do.
I throw off the blankets and stretch my body, rolling my shoulders. The second we walked through my door last night, temptation rode me hard to take her to bed and show her what a first time should have been like.
Only a sliver of common sense and the nightmares that plague me kept me on the couch.
I hear the water in the kitchen turn on and in a few seconds, the smell of coffee has me on my feet. Damn woman. Next, she’ll be baking something. No sooner do I think it does apple and cinnamon mix with fresh coffee.
Jesus. H. Christ.
I turn the corner to find curvy ass cheeks peeking out of the bottoms of night shorts as Bela reaches for something on the top shelf. Red makes the creamy color of her skin look appetizing in the morning sunlight.
“Are you going to stand there and growl all morning, or help me reach the sugar?”
I cross the kitchen and come up behind her. Tousled hair and red-rimmed eyes greet me when she turns around, and I instantly want a repeat of yesterday. Pull her into my arms and tell her she has nothing to cry about and do anything she needs to make sure she doesn’t.
Guilt creeps in. Maybe I should have shared the bed with her last night. It tears me up inside to think she might have cried herself to sleep all alone. Fuck. Why the hell didn’t I think of that? Because you were too busy worrying about sinking your dick into her tight hole again and getting addicted.
Yeah, there is that.
She leans in and places a kiss over my left pec, pulling me out of my thoughts. My dick takes that as a sign and hardens instantly. She turns those brown eyes south at the sight of my cock tenting my sweats.
Her eyes widen. “Good morning to you both. And thank you.” The gentle softness of her voice captivates me. She turns on her heel, a saucy little swing to her hips. Fucking minx. What would happen if I wrap my hands around those hips, bend her over and give her a good morning fuck in my kitchen?
The pulse in my neck quickens, my cock is harder than ever. She lifts those beautiful eyes from whatever the hell she’s concocting that smells heavenly, and I feel the pulse of her light touch me so deeply I can’t fucking breathe.
Safe zone.
Turn around and leave.
I turn on my heel, the heat of her eyes boring into my back. Shower, clothes, work. I kick the bathroom door closed behind me and take a deep breath. I jerk off my sweats and crank up the hot water. Red and angry, my cock drips precum, my balls aching for release.
At least I think it is a safe zone until I spot a pair of black lacy things hanging from the handle when I step into the shower.
I grab the base of my cock and work the length. My eyes slide shut and I trip back to yesterday, to the heated smoothness of Bela’s hot pussy gripping me tight, and I fuck my fist.
“Fuck, Bela. What have you done to me?”
My release comes fast and hard. White-hot milk makes a mess of her silk panties. Breathing heavily through my entire shower, I throw open the door and make quick work of toweling off. I slide on a pair of jeans, hair still wet, and head for the kitchen. Coffee, shoes, shirt and I’m out of here. All in that order. One deviation and I’ll bury my dick where it doesn’t belong.
I scrub a hand down my face. I need a shave, but I can do that at the station. Where I won’t be tempted to spend my entire day discovering all the little things that make Bela blush and drip girl-cum over my fingers.
“What has the bear so riled up?”
I step out from the hallway and cross the kitchen, every intention of keeping to my well-laid plan.
“I had all that in this kitchen?”
She purses her lips in that cute way that makes me want to spread her out on a flat surface. “Well, sorta. I owe your neighbor two bags of flour and five apples. Everything else… yep.”
Fucking adorable down to the way she licks her bottom lip. She’s still wearing those damn fuck-me-now-shorts and I prowl toward her, my jeans half-open, shirt in one hand, and my eye on the coffee machine. Her eyes travel from my face and don’t stop until she touches every inch of my body. And I mean every inch. A little smirk plays on her lips when she notices the bulge in my jeans. Blue balls are going to be a constant companion over the next few days. I already know it.
I grab my thermos and fill it to the rim.
“Muffin?”
The source of the apple cinnamon slides under my nose.
“Don’t wait up for me. There’s an extra key in the mailbox.”
I feel like I’m walking through a field of landmines and might not escape with my head in place. I probably should ask about her plans for the day, see if she needs anything that’s not worshiping her body on my kitchen counter, but another minute of her in those shorts and I will lose all my self-control. I grab a muffin when what I really want is her tight ass in my hands, stick my feet in some shoes by the side door and I’m out.
