Free (Chaos #6) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,74

the thought of her being with “some dudes” at all.

So he didn’t think on that.

He said, “You can get carried away with me.”

She smiled.

“And just to confirm, this once, you wanna force me to shoot harder down your throat, you claimed my cock, my balls come with it, I’m not gonna complain you drain me.”

She squirmed in his hold.

He tipped his head to the side, muttering, “She likes dirty talk.”

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”

He grinned. “Yeah.” He then touched his lips to her mouth, pulled away, dropped his voice low and promised, “I’ll take care of you later, sweetheart.”

That made her grin, roll up on her toes and touch her lips to his.

He’d let her go but took her hand and began guiding her to the stairs when she tugged on his arm.

He stopped and looked at her.

“Thank you.”

He was confused. “For what?”

“How many do you want?”

He was more confused, but asked, “How many you got?”

“Well, there’s looking after me. Moving me in to protect me. Being cool with my meltdown. Listening to me. Understanding. Not running a mile when Essence told you her Woodstock orgy story. Looking after Essence. Being honest. How you’re honest. Asking if I’m good with how you’re honest. Giving great head. Having a big dick and knowing how to use it.” She gave him a wicked grin. “And liking your balls squeezed.”

He yanked on her hand, she fell into his arms, and he landed a deep kiss on her.

When he lifted his head, he said the only thing he could say.

“You’re welcome.”

But That Did It

Beck

Much earlier that same morning . . .

Beck opened his eyes and smelled bacon.

He then rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling a beat before he lifted his hands to his face and rubbed.

He also counted.

Five times.

Five times in the five months he’d been seeing Janna he’d spent the night.

And every morning, she was up before him, even if he had to get up early to get to work, and she made him breakfast.

He rolled out of bed, moved to her bathroom and stood at the sink, scowling at the toothbrush she’d opened for him the morning after the first night he’d stayed. A toothbrush that was in her little, ceramic toothbrush holder with dots that formed designs that looked like henna art on it.

Digging in.

He used the toilet. Washed his hands. Splashed water on his face. Brushed his teeth. Moved out. Nabbed his jeans. Dragged them on. Same with tee, socks and boots.

Then he prowled out toward the kitchen of her little two-bedroom place to have a word with her about breakfast.

But he stopped in the living room.

They didn’t spend time in it, so he’d never really paid attention.

The kitchen was a galley kitchen with cheap, fake oak cabinets.

The bedrooms were small and all anyone could say about the bathrooms (except the way she decorated them) was that they were functional.

But the living room had a slanted ceiling that had beams and bead board. The walls were painted one step up from white to be a light shade of gray. The floor had that tile that looked like wood, hers was gray. There were big square windows set high enough you could see out, but they still gave privacy. Leading to the yard, a sliding glass door out to a deck with a pergola over it. All these windows giving a lot of sun to the room during the day.

There were also two cool light fixtures hanging down, matching sconces on the wall, and gray velvet couches facing each other she probably got from that Z Gallerie place. Two armchairs pointed at the TV rounded out the place that someone (not him) would probably describe as azure or something, but they were a kickass blue. There was a square coffee table in the middle.

Toss pillows.

Nice fifty-five-inch TV on the wall. A low modular cabinet under it that had an Xbox, but other than that, nothing in it but what looked like sponges or something, painted silver.

It felt like it wasn’t a living room in Aurora, Colorado, but in a house at the beach.

It was clean.

It was classy.

It was calming.

It had personality.

And it was obviously the only room in the house she’d had the time, or the money, to really put herself into.

But Janna had concentrated on it, and he had a feeling now that it looked like it was done, she’d probably move on to another room when she had the cash.

Patient.

Smart.

Hopeful.

Beck stood there not

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