Page 50 of Toxic

“New rule.”

Her and her rules.

“No more…touching,” she said, waving her hands at me.

“You don’t like touching?” I teased. She was flustered and I liked knowing I’d done that to her.

“Yes. No. Just, stay over there,” she finally huffed out.

“Okay, Sweet Girl. Whatever you want.” I laughed to myself because it wasn’t happening. She could make up all the rules she wanted. I was great at breaking them.

“And no more calling me Sweet Girl,” she added.

“Why?” I asked, falling in step with her as she headed back to the clubhouse.

“Because it makes me wonder how many women you’ve called that,” she snapped.

My brows shot up. “None.”

“Yeah right.” She rolled her eyes when I opened the door for her and stomped inside. “Probably too many to remember.”

She definitely had me pegged. The old me anyway. Only I hadn’t been lying. I never called women Sweet Girl. Darling, Honey, maybe an occasional Babe, but not Sweet Girl. That was for my lightning girl only.

She didn’t realize I could read her like a book. Her breath had caught when I’d said Sweet Girl. She liked that I called her that. Too much. Which was why she didn’t want me doing it anymore. I grinned as I followed her inside. This was going to be more fun than I thought.

CHAPTER 18

Toxic

Rolling over the next morning, I sighed as I stared at the ceiling. Billie was sleeping in the next room over. It’d be so easy to sneak in there and wake her up with my face buried between her legs.

My cock was already hard just from waking up, but now it flexed at the idea of getting my hands on the tempting woman who’d been doing her best to avoid my kisses. She liked them as much as I did. But I still hadn’t made it any farther with her. Granted, her grandfather was sleeping under this same roof, too. It wasn’t exactly respectful to seduce a man's granddaughter in his own home. And my pops had taught me respect. But then again, Billie made all my good intentions fly right out the fucking window.

Groaning, I reached down beneath the covers and shoved my hand past the waistband of my boxer briefs. My dick was leaking pre-cum just thinking about her.

My stint in the military had taught me patience, but fuck if she was shredding my self-control. Closing my eyes, I gripped my cock hard and slid my hand up and down the length. The friction made my balls draw up and I arched my head back as a rumble of pleasure escaped. Fuck that felt good. And yet, I knew it wasn’t going to feel half as good as burying myself in Billie’s wet pussy.

Flexing my hips, I fucked my hand as I thought about the kiss we’d shared last night. She was a stubborn one and was making me work to win her over. Somehow, that made me want her even more. Which I wasn’t sure was possible in the first place.

My muscles strained as I imagined getting her beneath me and fucking her until she was screaming. I just wished I wasn't stuck with my damn hand this morning. Still, it did the job and I grunted in release as I shot my cum all over my abs. Huffing out a breath, I slowly stroked myself, eyes still closed as I pictured her on her knees, looking up at me with a sultry smile. My dick jerked in my hand, but I was done for now.

One thing about being over forty, one round was enough. For now, anyway. It was bad enough I was jerking off once to twice a day just to keep myself in control. If I’d met Billie in my twenties, my dick would be rubbed raw and I would have already lost my shit. I’d had a decent temper back in the day, but over the years had figured out how to control it. The only thing that brought it to the surface these days was when my family was in danger.

Tugging off my boxers, I mopped up my abs, then padded across the room to take a shower. It was early, but there were animals to feed. The manual labor would go a long way toward easing the burning need in my chest. Hopefully.

I headedout to the barn to start with the horses. I had to get my mind off of Billie. Butcher would be along shortly anyway so it was best to get outside. No sooner did I enter the barn that I found the perfect distraction.

Two men were already in here. I was hit by the strong stench of gasoline. They each held a big red jug, gas cans, and they were pouring it over the hay bales. Hay fires were always devastating. They were packed so tightly that once the fire started, you couldn’t dump enough water on them to get them out. It would take out the whole barn and leave nothing recoverable.

I should have been enraged, seeing that these goons were back on my woman’s property. That they were here to intimidate her, scare her, to destroy the ranch she loved so much. And I was furious. But I also had a sense of relief and joy. I had something to take my frustrations out on.

This must be how Butcher feels all the time.

They hadn’t seen me yet, I observed all of this in just a few seconds. My gun was tucked securely in my belt, but I didn’t want to risk the muzzle flash igniting any fumes. Low odds of that happening on any given day, but the risk wasn’t worth it. Not when Billie’s barn and animals were in danger. I glanced around and saw what I needed.

A pair of hay hooks. Curved hooks about ten inches long on a round wooden handle. They were made to sink into the sides of a hay bale to make it easier to pick up. I took one in either hand and stepped forward. The goons dropped the gas cans and turned to face me. They didn’t seem too concerned to see me. Their mistake.

“Don’t move,” one of the goons said, raising his hand. He flicked a lighter.

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