Page 9 of Maid in America

“If I was a bettin’ man, I’d guess this is either a post-breakup hairstyle… or you had a strict upbringing.”

“Nope,” she said quickly, but the lie was apparent on her face. She cleared her throat and averted her eyes. “I just like some vibrancy in my life. I couldn’t decide on one color, so I chose them all.”

Barrett’s bent finger drifted from her hair to her cheek, grazing the flushed flesh of her ear, feeling the heat seeping from her skin.

“I like these, too,” he lightly toyed with her earrings. They looked like human rib cages coated in teal epoxy with hot pink hearts dangling inside.

“I like that you’re not afraid to stand out. That’s sexy.”

She smiled, eyes darting away.

“Hey, no, look at me.” His voice was soft but stern, echoing out into the quietness of the space.

She forced herself to meet his gaze and smiled. He leaned in slowly, slow enough to allow her to say no, to halt him, or admit she was having second thoughts. But she didn’t speak. The only sound between them was the crinkle of leather as he slid his hand up to the back of her neck and pressed his lips firmly to hers.

She kissed him back with a demanding urgency. Her hand wrapped around the back of his neck, and she pulled him closer, savoring the taste of liquor on his warm tongue. Barrett gripped her by the hips and slid her roughly toward him. A small moan escaped her, and he felt the delightful ache grow between his legs.

She grasped the front of his shirt and pulled him against her, digging her nails into his shoulders. He parted her legs with his knees and weaved his fingers into her multi-colored locks.

He moaned against her lips before pulling at the hem of her shirt, hand diving beneath, grazing soft skin with calloused hands.

She shoved her hand between their bodies and massaged his hardened cock through the denim. He gasped and pinched his eyes closed.

“Mmmmm. Such a naughty girl.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” she purred, stroking harder. She sucked his bottom lip and nibbled, raking her nails down his neck.

She was a furnace beneath his writhing body, one radiating intense heat as his fingers pulled at the loops of her skin-tight pants.

She turned her face away and spoke as he left a trail of kisses along her neck. “Let’s move this party to the bed.”

“Mmmmm.” His voice vibrated her throat.

He climbed off, black hair mussed, dick tugging so hard at the zipper of his jeans one could see every inch of his cock’s drool-worthy outline. He scooped Aphrodite in his arms, coaxing a giddy giggle from her. Without strain, he swerved her around piles of clothes, guitars, and odd assortments of men’s health magazines like someone deftly completing an obstacle course.

Barrett playfully tossed her onto the unmade queen-sized bed, and she laughed. But the heavenly sound halted the second Barrett peeled his black T-shirt off, exposing a hard-earned six-pack and a tapered deep ‘V’ of muscles that formed an arrow pointing straight to the crotch of his Wranglers.

She watched him undress, eyes studying his tanned deltoids and powerful biceps.

He smiled down, cocky, and unbuckled his belt, tugging it out of the loops in a flash. He folded it in his fists and pulled until it snapped like a crack of thunder.

Aphrodite jumped at the noise and rolled onto her stomach, watching him over her shoulder with a look of excitement mixed with fear.

“Does it turn you on, the thought of a naughty little Goddess getting the belt?”

She blushed, lying for a moment in silence.

Without even a trace of a smile, Barrett ran the folded belt softly over the meat of her ass, imagining the sexy pink mark it would leave on the skin beneath her jeans.

“It does… but I don’t know the first thing about you. That sorta thing requires trust.” She laid the side of her face on her clasped hands, bright hair spilling on the covers around her. “At least, for me.”

Barrett studied her. He wished he’d learned to paint, wished he’d taken art seriously so that he could capture her beauty in this moment on a canvas. He’d hang it on his wall and stare at it for hours every day.

His face softened. He nodded and tossed the belt near a pile of rumpled laundry. “Fair enough.”

Aphrodite rolled onto her back and yanked up on her shirt.

“No.” He stopped her. “Half the fun on Christmas morning is unwrapping my presents. Don’t youdaretake that away from me.”

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