before officially opening the construction company. Birmingham needed to be rebuilt, so we’d jump on the bandwagon and help — and make a lot of money in the process. This venture was my baby, and I looked forward to helping rebuild the city. There were a lot of companies needing contractors, and a lot of people needing jobs. I was directly overseeing crews on five large projects and a handful of small ones, and not getting a lot of sleep. Some days, I didn’t fuck anyone. Other days, I fucked a half-dozen women, and not all of them sweetbutts.
And Banshee was in the back of my mind anytime I sank my dick into any of a woman’s holes. Fuck, but that woman could get me going and keep me there.
I was sitting in the parking lot of one of our big jobs — a new build of an old-folks home. Excuse me. Retirement home. The owner was promoting it for rich people, but he was taking shortcuts with building expenses wherever he could. Nothing unsafe — I wouldn’t have gone for that — but cosmetic stuff. For instance, the entryway was a huge room with what looked like massive marble columns, but the plans called for us to make them out of concrete and then have an artist paint them to look like marble. Our regular painting subcontractor wouldn’t do for this, so we’d used a different firm.
They came well recommended, but I still needed to check on them. The floor and two walls of the sunroom were supposed to look like a French veranda once the artist was finished. I’d have done that room last, but this firm’s artist was starting in there. I found my notes about her —Cheyenne Grace, but her boss called her Shy. Her portfolio was damned impressive, and I looked forward to seeing her make this space come alive. I finally jumped out of my truck and went in.
The flooring people were laying the tile in the grand entrance. I checked out the auditorium and nodded to the people installing the seating, looked in on work in the kitchen and huge dining hall, and finally made my way to the sunroom. Thirty yards away, I smelled lynx. Not just any lynx.
Banshee.
The doors were propped open, and I stood just outside the immense sunroom and watched Banshee, standing high on a scaffolding, those long, slender arms with compact muscles skillfully painted decorative molding onto a flat surface. Her fingers had paint on them, wrapped around the paintbrush handle. So graceful. I remembered how those fingers had looked moving on my dick.
Her long hair had been restrained in a ponytail and then wrapped around itself, and I wanted to let it loose and hold it like a handle.
My dick throbbed in my pants, but I brought it under control while I was far enough away she wouldn’t scent the small dip in my control.
Without turning around, she said, “This isn’t a spectator sport. If you aren’t here to help, you should leave.”
“That ass in those jeans? You could sell tickets.” And that was the god’s honest truth. The jeans had been washed so many times they were barely blue. They cupped her ass so perfectly, it was a work of art.
She turned around so fast, I worried she’d fall — but she’s a cat, so she was fine.
“The fuck you doin’ here?”
Those green, green eyes. They’d always threatened to do me in. The color of the first buds on a tree in the spring, only more vibrant.
“I take it your boss didn’t tell you who the GC is on this job?” The RTMC were the general contractors, and we subcontracted for specialized skills, like electrical work, plumbing, and painting. Technically, we were Rolling Thunder General Contractors and Commercial Construction, but everyone knew it was an RTMC owned business.
She closed her eyes a few seconds, and opened them with a look of resignation.
“Damn. No, he didn’t, but I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later. I know I can’t be on MC property, but this isn’t...” She shrugged. “This is different. I’m working. Professional.”
“Yeah, I hadn’t even considered walking you off the property.”
She turned back to the wall and resumed painting. “Well then, if there’s nothing else, I should get back to it.”
I have no idea what came over me. I’d like to be able to blame it on my inner owl, but I’m pretty sure the human has to take full responsibility. I took