Silas (Dirty Aces MC #4) - Lane Hart Page 0,20
know what I’ve decided – am I going to bury my face between her legs or not. Then I realize she’s asking about dinner and her pie. The apple pie.
“It’s good,” I tell her, figuring that much was clear based on how fast I devoured my plate and the furious shoveling of pie into my mouth to keep it busy before it attacks her.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. A homecooked meal is the least I could do to thank you for everything,” she says, pouring ice on my head to instantly make me feel guilty instead of horny.
“Stop thanking me,” I huff as I scrape up every last crumb of pie crust. Climbing off the stool to take some of the pressure of my blue balls, I tell her, “I’m going to take a shower and hit the sack.”
“So soon? It’s early,” Cora says, resting her elbows on the counter so that her cleavage is on full display, right in front of my face, adding something else to the list of her body parts I want to feast on.
“Yeah, gotta head out early tomorrow. Be up by seven to go over self-defense shit,” I tell her tits. Good thing she can’t see my erection under the counter or my hand gripping it, shifting my cock around behind my zipper so that it can’t poke anyone’s eye out.
“You know, I could really use another shower myself,” she replies, her tongue wetting her lips seductively. “We could double up to save water.”
And there it is – her blatant invitation, practically begging me to fuck her.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” I mutter. “Besides, you need to go make that red flag on your head go away.”
Cora gasps as her hand goes up to her hair. “Oh, right. Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing!” I shout at her. Then I make myself leave the kitchen before I give in and fuck all of the gratitude and apologies right out of her sexy, little body.
Instead, I take a long, cold shower, refusing to stroke my cock and give it any relief. I deserve the ache, the constant pain I’ve been in since the second I saw that woman.
Chapter Ten
Cora
* * *
The worst-case scenario turned out to be harsher than I expected it to be. I knew the rejection would sting, but I didn’t think it would make me wish the ocean would suddenly rise and take me out to sea with it so I wouldn’t have to face Sam again in the morning.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll be so embarrassed for me that he’ll just sneak out in the morning without saying goodbye.
After I clean up the kitchen, I head upstairs and put on my pajamas before falling into the bed. It’s comfortable enough, though not as nice as the mattresses in my parents’ house. Oh well, it will get the job done.
My face and the rest of my body are still burning with humiliation, so I just lay on top of the bed covers, staring up at the ceiling while I listen to the shower running down the hall.
How desperate must he think I am to throw myself at him like that?
Even through the shame I can’t help but wonder how good he looks naked. If the rest of his body is as muscular as his arms, then he must be a god-like work of art from the chest down. His face isn’t unattractive, it’s just hard to read. Sam’s brow and dark eyes are always a little…severe, as if he expects people to just do whatever he says.
Me. As if he expects me to do whatever he says.
Except, that assessment must be fictional, just a figment of my imagination since he made it clear he’s not interested in me in a sexual way.
Since sleep isn’t going to happen anytime soon, I remember the order Sam gave me before he stormed out of the kitchen. I don’t want to disappoint him, so I roll out of bed and retrieve the box of hair color from downstairs. As I take it up to my room, I read over the directions carefully since this will be the first time I’ve ever put anything in my all-natural hair.
Who knows, maybe tomorrow once I’m a brunette, I’ll try something different, like blowing out the curls so that it’s straight.
Unfortunately, though, the humidity here will just leave my hair to swell up like a pumpkin on my shoulders. At least it will no longer be an orangish red pumpkin but more