Page 14 of Live Love Steal
I cranked a little too hard, and my hand slipped, dinging my knuckles on a protruding edge. I cursed and sucked on the injury to stop the sting. No blood. I could stop being a weak-ass and keep going. The sooner I got this done, the sooner I could resolve the debate between my dick and my conscience.
I’d hand off the keys. Maybe make a date for sometime in the future… after ditching the twin to her car. It would all be in the past, and my sins wouldn’t haunt me. Then, I’d explore every inch of her. Every fucking inch.
That sounded like a brilliant plan.
But like all plans, I didn’t count on one thing.
Isobel had other plans.
I set her keys on the kitchen counter, searching the spaces and corners of my house for her. I could have called out, but already knew where she was.
Her shirt was on the floor. Strategically dropped right where I’d see it as I walked out of my work bay. A shoe sat on a barstool. Its mate pointed toward my bedroom.
Her skirt lay in front of it.
A bra dangled from the hook where I usually hung my coat. While that was sexy as all hell, I had a moment of panic. My coat, with the Destroyers’ patches, was sacred. But she’d hung it over the back of a chair. Nothing touched the ground. Thank God. I’d have to warn her about touching it. No one did that. Not unless they were an ol’ lady. Even then, most of the women paired with a biker like me wouldn’t think of moving their man’s leather.
Her panties taunted me from the arch between my living space and the bedroom. They were black satin, just like the bra she’d hung up.
Black. Satin.
I could forgive her for touching my coat, right? I mean… black satin made up for a lot of things.
I peeked around the post that made up half the arch’s frame.
Isobel sprawled on the bed, lying on her stomach. Her perfect ass was slightly raised in the air.
One finger slid around her hole. Her head was turned to face the mural I’d painted over the far wall. It was a naked woman.
My gaze bounced between the pose of her on my sheets and the multi-colored vision I’d painted on the wall.
I had a type. Black hair, pale skin… red lips. Definitely a type. “You got started without me.”
She twisted my direction, a guilty expression on her face. “I… couldn’t help myself?”
Her brown eyes flashed. Then, she rolled to her back while continuing to finger herself.
In the new position, her other hand was free. She used it to pinch her nipples. “Are you going to watch?”
I took a step forward and paused. Our earlier conversation flashed through my thoughts. “Anything you want.” If she wanted me to watch, I’d watch.
But hell, I wanted to join her. I wanted my tongue up that pussy. I wanted my dick deep inside her. I wanted to splay her against my painted lady and fuck her from behind.
Isobel licked her lips. “Stand at the end of the bed.”
As she spoke, she spread her legs wide.
I had a direct view of her pussy and technique. I used the time not touching her to pull off my shirt. Then, I unbuckled my belt. I pulled out the sealed condom I carried with me and set it on the bed by her left foot, going as far as to brush the wrapper against the arch. That made her squirm, and her toes curled for a moment.
I slid my pants and boxers off to free my dick and held it in my right hand.
Her eyes widened. A smile crept across her face. The finger in her pussy got replaced by two as she pumped harder.
“Are you going to cum?”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I might.”
That would be pretty. I told her as much.
