Page 69 of Inflame Me
I continue to hold her hands as I thrust harder and deeper, wanting to climb inside of her and claim her for the world to see. Her orgasm hits, squeezing my dick within an inch of its life, and I explode while looking into her eyes.
It’s the best fucking experience I’ve ever had, and it was with her. My woman.
I LIE IN RHYS’S arms, allowing my heart to come to terms with what just happened. I’ve fucked him enough times to know what just happened was something way more than that. It felt as if he were making love to me—sweet, lustful, unconditional love. It’s strange because part of me is right there with him, while the other is scared as hell. I need to get over that, but how when your man has the reputation of screwing lots of other women?
I’m not that experienced, but I don’t think I’m bad in bed. Rhys seems satisfied enough. What scares me is not being enough for him. What if he needs more than what I can give him?
His actions as of late show me every moment that he’s thinking of no one but me. I need to go with that and hope that he takes carewithme.
“You’re thinking awfully hard there,” he grumbles low as he strokes my hair while I lie on his chest, listening to the rise and fall of his breaths. Each puff helps to sooth my wayward thoughts.
“A lot to think about,” I tell him. It’s probably not the best time to get into some deep conversation when we’re both completely sated and in our own little worlds.
“Talk to me.” I close my eyes briefly at his command.
“Is this real, Rhys? I want this to be real.” I speak with every bit of honesty, pain, and uncertainty pouring from each syllable.
He shifts us so our eyes are level, and he’s holding me tightly to the couch so I don’t fall. I wrap my arms around him and hold on. His eyes dance, making all the tough, scary lines of his face soften. I’m certain not many people get to see this side of Rhys, and I’m ecstatic to be one of them.
“It’s about as real as it gets,” he says as his eyes tell me he’s in this the same way I am. “It can’t get any closer, Sprite.”
I kiss him with every bit of emotion I’m feeling, and he deepens it. My heart flutters and twists in my chest. I feel it. It’s smacking me in the face. Rhys is mine.
“RHYS, I NEED to get a job, and this is perfect,” I tell him, my hand cocked on my hip and foot pointing out, going all bitch on him.
“I don’t want you working there.” He crosses his arms over his chest and widens his stance. It’s scary, but I’m not backing down. I’ve been looking for a job around here for the past week, and there is nothing. I refuse to mooch off my mother. I have to support myself.
“Princess upped security, and I’ll be working behind the curtain. They’ll have to get through bouncers to get back to me,” I try to reason with him.
When Princess offered me the job, at first I didn’t think she was serious. Yeah, I helped out there once, but I thought she was just being nice. As time went on, however, she started pursing me harder, and I finally said yes.
“I don’t give a shit. Remember what happened?”
Do I ever.
“Yes, and it won’t happen again,” I retort. “I think it’ll be a lot of fun.”
Princess wants me to style the girls’ hair before they go on stage, but on top of that, she wants me to color and cut each of them once a month. She is also offering me almost three times as much money as my other job, and it’s shorter hours. I’d only be there for their initial dance, and then I’m gone.
“Fuck!” he growls, swiping his hands through his hair in frustration. “I should just paddle your ass.”
“Rhys, it’s a job. I’ll hardly be there, and she’s paying me a shit load. You’ve gotta give this to me.” I move closer to him and grab the front of his shirt. Some of the starch comes out of his spine as he sucks in a breath.
“I can’t be there to keep those fuckers in line. You have to carry a gun.”
While I should be shocked and mortified at this request, I’m not. Over this past week, I learned that everyone in the club carries, including Princess, Blaze, and Casey, whom I met briefly.
“Only if you teach me.” I don’t have the first clue what to do with a gun, let alone how to load and fire it. Yeah, no clue. I’m fine with learning, though.
“Fine,” he growls, pulling me into him. His hand comes to the top of my head, and he kisses me on my temple. “If any of those fuckers touch a hair on your head, I’ll fucking kill them.”
At that, I smile. I’ve grown to like his overprotective side … to a point. He tries to get more and more, but I still have a spine, and I’ve made sure he knows that. A prime example is this current conversation.
“Okay, babe,” I tell him, burying my face in his neck and inhaling. I love being this close to him. I just can’t get enough.
“And I’m fucking talking to Princess. I want someone on you the whole time. I don’t give a shit if I have to put a prospect on you for when I can’t be there. I fucking will.”
I hold onto him more tightly.
