Filthy (The Reckless Series #2) - HJ Bellus Page 0,40

with my hands.” He winks at me from his wood bench.

“Do I ever know that.”

I watch Rhett scratch his head and place his pencil behind his ear. He doesn’t realize it’s a nervous habit, but he repeats the action over and over while working and thinking up a new design. I could stare at him for hours when he’s working out here.

“I’m going to finish up dinner then I’ll help you.”

“You’ll just distract me,” he responds, not looking up from the blueprints he’s sketching out.

“Rude,” I sing out, walking up behind him and wrapping my arms around his middle.

“It’s your tits. I blame your tits. They could destroy small countries.”

I laugh into his neck. “You’re a naughty boy.”

“I’m getting a boner, Darby,” he warns.

I let my hands drift down to his crotch and stroke him through his jeans.

“I could finish your dinner or drop to my knees.” I spin him around in the stool. “You know, maybe it will help you think clearer.”

“You’re right. God, you’re always right.” He tugs down his loose fitting sweats until I’m eye level with his glorious dick.

I taunt him, licking around his head and under his shaft, never touching his sensitive head. He grabs my hair and forces my mouth all the way down on him. I groan around his want for me and begin to suck. I use my teeth and then glide for a few strokes. He bucks up into my mouth, approving of my actions.

“Not going to cut it, sweet cheeks.” He pulls me off his dick and whirls me around, pressing me up against a table. His hand snakes up my skirt until he’s petting my wet panties.

“So wet, baby.”

He yanks them down with no apology and lets the head of his dick bob at my entrance. I lose control like I always do around him, letting my ass push back on him until his dick inches inside of me. I moan and forget all about the dinner burning in the oven.

“How do you want it?” His fingers dig into my hips.

“I just want you, Rhett, all of you.”

He needs no further coaxing to push into me hard and fast. He wraps a hand around my front and begins stroking my clit. He has me wrapped into a messy bundle of an impending orgasm in a matter of seconds.

“I’m going. Oh God, Rhett. Yes. Yes.” I scream, clawing at the top of the table.

“Good Girl. Now hold on.” He picks up his pace, slamming into me, sending the aftershocks of my release into a new orgasm. When he growls and his dick pulses inside of me, I let go again with him.

I collapse forward on the table and feel his limp body follow.

“I told you those tits could take down a small country.”

I manage to squish out a smile against the smooth wood of the table.

“Just trying to help my man think clearer.”

“Job well done.” He rises up and slaps my ass.

“Oh shit.” I take off for the main part of the house, tripping over my skirt, and hobbling in my panties. “Meat loaf on fire. Meat loaf down.”

His loud laughter fills the air as I race into the kitchen. The timer is going off and athe slight smell of smoke begins filling the house. I scramble to find two hot pads and pull the smoking brick of meat from the oven.

“Shit.” I blew my bangs out of my eyes.

I just torched a family secret recipe and his favorite meal. I try to resurrect the meal by cutting off the burnt top. Mentally, I pat myself on the shoulder for the gorgeous green salad, and impossible to fuck up instant potatoes with bacon bits and cheese sprinkle on them.

Rhett waltzes in forty-five minutes later and doesn’t dare say a word about the torched meatloaf. He eats it like a champ and even compliments me. I know he’s full of shit, but I’m not one to argue with the man. I’m pretty sure he’d eat his left leg if desperate times called. The man does love to eat.

We shower together like a typical night and get distracted with our bodies melting together. I almost muster up the courage to be really honest with him and ask him to quit dancing, but I chicken out.

Our naked bodies lie together tangled in the sheets and in each other.

“It’s your turn tonight.” I kiss his temple and smile. I look forward to the moments before we drift off to slumber. It’s our time where