Page 21 of Ten Hammers

Chapter 8

Winnie

Max wakes me as he tries to creep silently out of his room, but I pretend to still be asleep. I want to give him time to find Mason and sort through things, but more than that, I want to lay in his bed and relish in the euphoric memories of last night. I’m not ready to burst this happy little bubble yet.

I pick up his pillow and press it to my face, squeal into it as a worldly and mature lady of almost thirty does.

Max Hammer went down on me last night.

Max Hammer fingerfucked me last night.

Max Hammer wants to take my v-card… he wants my first time to be romantic!

I squeeze my thighs together. My horny little love button is already pulsing. Normally I wouldn’t hesitate to give in to the call, but how will my own hands ever pleasure me after I’ve felt Max’s touch?

I stretch and my yawn turns into a grin so big it actually hurts my face.

Max made me feel sexy. Desired. Alive.

Maybe if every night of the next month and a half is like last night, I can survive the reno from hell.

My mind wanders again to the word romantic. I find myself mindlessly winding a curl around my finger, probably to keep my hands from wandering elsewhere. None of my Losing My Virginity to a Hammer Brother fantasies have been romantic. Imaginative, wild, unrealistic, kinky. Yes, yes, yes, and yes.

But romantic? Never.

There was a moment last night, when my clit was being ravaged by Max’s tongue, when my body and brain were overcome with heavenly sensation, and I stared at the dragon tattoo on his muscled arm, I thought that My Losing My Virginity to Max fantasy was well on its way to coming true.

In my fantasy, Max doesn’t take his time. He is speed, he’s strength, he’s precision. He grabs me from behind, his hands gripping tight to my hips as he pulls me up against him, to make me feel how hard he is for me. So hard. And so huge. And in one swift motion, fierce, like his dragon tattoo, he pushes me over his work bench and yanks my panties down. His powerful thrust has me crying out for more.

When Max is concentrating on the final touch wood-working details in a renovation, he wears this expression that turns me liquid. His gorgeous lips curl into a snarl and his brows knit over green eyes that are piercing and possessive. That’s the expression he wears as he drills me from behind, over and over, harder and harder, until I scream from ecstasy.

Not romantic.

I wonder what he has in mind for my first time. Us sneaking out together late one night, driving to the middle of nowhere. Maybe a field?

A field. He’ll have put a mattress in the bed of his truck and we’ll make love under the stars…

I bite my lip. Sliding my hand down my belly, I spread my thighs. I’m so wet. My finger circles my clit. I squirm and I bite harder on my lip to keep from making noises.

A door bangs shut downstairs, causing me to jump and my finger to slip and poke a decidedly non-sexy place. Ow.

I cringe, a wave of dread washing away my pleasure. I hate the sounds of doors slamming more than just about anything.

Hurriedly getting up, I locate my pajamas and get them back on. I probably still have all kinds of bedhead, but I don’t bother trying to tame it. I fly down the stairs but there are terse voices coming from the living room, causing me to stop dead in my tracks.

I hold my breath and inch my way toward the voices on my tiptoes.

“I would have at least wanted to tell Winnie about the opportunity. See what she thought.”

Jack.

My eyebrows go high.

Opportunity? What opportunity?

I can’t stop myself from barging in.

“What opportunity?” I ask, moving closer until I’m standing in the doorway.

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