Page 43 of Derek
“Never shameless. I’ve just been given the gift that is you, and I want nothing more than to show my appreciation.” He waggles his eyebrows, and I let out a laugh. Carter is worse than Ash and Atlas combined. He gives me a grin, and I look at the stairs.
“So… I don’t know if your mom or Derek told you, but due to my disability, I can’t go downstairs unassisted.” I watch his playful expression dim, and I inwardly groan.
Well, the flirting was fun while it lasted.But now I can see the look of “Oh shit, she’s disabled” written on his face. So disappointing.
“You going down, baby girl?” Derek’s husky whisper near my ear nearly causes my knees to give out. I watch as he shoves Carter’s face, almost knocking him down the stairs without breaking our gaze.
“Y-yeah, sorry.” I wince, but Derek ignores it and grabs me under my knees. I grip him around his tattooed neck as he carries me down the wooden stairs.
“Don’t ever apologize,” he says softly while continuing down. Once at the bottom, Derek sets me down, and I give him a small smile.
“I just don’t want to inconvenience anyone,” I say while patting his chest and heading toward the kitchen.
The kitchen is large, which I guess is necessary for the amount of food funneling through here. I’ve been told that Dorothy is a master at cooking and baking and has spent decades feeding her husband, boys, and the people that work on the ranch. Baked goods in the morning and lunches every day. I felt bad earlier when I told her I couldn’t cook to save my life. But, I can bake. I was a decent baker, but when I moved in with Stevie, she and her mom and grandma taught me how to take it to the next level.
Deciding to go with a fruit and cream cheese danish, I walk around the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients I need to make the puff pastries and filling.
“What are you doing?” Derek asks, his arms crossed over his massive chest, causing the fabric of his form fitting shirt to strain against his muscular form. I blush as my mind goes to me, raking my nails over his chest while dipping my tongue into his belly button. I wonder what he sounds like when he really moans. When he is letting go and—
“Indy?” Derek’s voice snaps me back to reality and I look around at my surroundings. I’m standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at Derek and squeezing a block of cream cheese. I blink and look from Derek to see Jackson and Jensen snickering behind Derek.
“You got a hard-on there, Indy?” Jensen snorts, and my face reddens from the embarrassment of getting caught.
“Sorry,” I whisper sheepishly, returning to getting my ingredients, wishing a hole would open and swallow me.
“Shut up.” I hear Derek growl and watch him shove his brothers out of the kitchen. “Jesus Christ, they are still a pain in my ass.” He comes closer to me, and I can smell that he’s recently showered. God, that crisp soap smells so good. “Don’t let those idiots embarrass you.” He says softly, and I feel my hot face grow warmer. I’m so flustered and so frustrated sexually. I take a slow breath before putting on my fake smile.
“Not embarrassed! I’m just enjoying all the eye candy.” I watch as he stares at my mouth and then at my eyes. He frowns but backs up.
“So, what are you doing?” He asks, and I am happy at the change in subject.
“Your mom usually makes stuff for the guys in the mornings before work, so I told her I would take care of it. I can’t cook, but I’m a pretty good baker.” I go to look at him, and I see his jaw tense and his eyes trained on me. “So…” I say slowly, feeling like I said something wrong. “I’m making danishes?”
Derek blinks out of his stare and nods. “That’s kind of you. I told my brothers I would help fix a few things around the house tomorrow, so I’ll be close by when you need to get up and down the steps or if you need help. Try to get some rest.” I give him a soft smile as he walks out of the kitchen, leaving me to my task.
* * *
I’m exhausted,my legs hurt, my back hurts, and I’m in desperate need of my bed. But as I cover the last dish of danishes, I can’t help but feel enormous pride. I made cherry, blueberry, and cinnamon apple danishes, which came out perfect. At least, I think they did. I’m so excited to see if the workers like them in the morning.
I head to my room. It’s a small guest room with a jack-and-jill bathroom. They have separate quarters that Ozzy will be using, but it’s upstairs, and since the majority of my work is on the main floor, it makes sense for me to be down here. I remove my shirt, bralette, and leggings before slipping on a baggy shirt and heading into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.
As I wipe my mouth on a towel, I pause as I hear a faint pant. Pressing my ear against the door, I hear a small grunt and what I believe to be Derek groaning out a “fuccck” under his breath.
Oh my god, he’s…
I bite my bottom lip and squeeze my thighs together, capturing the warmth and tingling in my center, feeling it build.
“Fuck, baby girl…” His hushed voice groans out, and my heart stops.Baby girl…I’m baby girl, unless he has others. No. Nope, I am clinging to the fantasy that I am his only Darlin’ and only baby girl.
I quietly make my way out of the bathroom and close the sliding door before going to my suitcase. I dig around until I find my vibrator before heading to the bed. Due to my MS and some of the medications I’m on, sex and self-pleasure are not always my highest priority. It takes a lot to get me off. I have to have firm stimulation on my clit, and even then, I can be at it for forty-five minutes and never fully reach a release, which can be irritating, so I often don’t bother. But lately, I’ve had desires, and after hearing Derek…
I push the button and switch to my preferred vibration speed before slipping it between my legs. “Oh,” I gasp as the wand slides easily against my drenched center. I didn’t realize how wet I was. Pressing the head against my clit, I groan out. God, yes. I might actually come this time.
“Mmmm…yeah…” I pant, rocking my hips, and my free hand grabs my breast, playing with the nipple.
“Fuck, baby girl…”I hear Derek’s groan in my head, and I close my eyes, imagining him between my legs, his tongue tasting me in a spot no man has before.“You taste like fucking sin.”
“Fuck,” I whimper. The pressure is building inside of me.
