Page 40 of The Run Home
“What were you saying?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“Is that…all…you’ve got?” she panted. Her arms were shaking as she held herself.
My fingers dug into her hips. Oh, I’d show her what I had. I’d bet my retirement account she’d be walking funny tomorrow. I pulled back until I almost came out of her warm tunnel, then slammed back in. Her ass rippled and she expelled an audible gasp. I picked up the pace, chasing the feeling that wasoverwhelming me while also trying to hold it at bay. Every little moan she let out spurred me on.
“Better…have…more…than that!” she said on a moan, voice rising at the end. Despite her words, her arms looked like they were two seconds away from giving out.
I let go of her hips, wrapped my arm around her waist and lifted her up. I laid her back down, draped over the washing machine, and continued to pound into her. Now I finally had solid leverage. She started to thrash under me and I felt it. That subtle tightening around my dick as she started to come undone. Curse words spilled out of her mouth and I smiled through each of them, collecting them in my memory bank like precious pearls.
When she’d gone limp and finally quit with the taunting, I let myself go with a final rough thrust that spelled trouble for her drywall. The orgasm was a full-body affair, stealing the oxygen from my lungs, the strength from my legs, and any thoughts from my head. I collapsed on top of her, breathing so hard I immediately knew I needed to up my cardio game at the gym.
When the blood came back into my brain, I pulled out of her and turned her around, picking her up and cradling her in my arms. She was still partially dressed but her eyes drooped heavily. I stepped over the pile of my clothes on the floor and took her to the living room, laying her on the couch and covering her with a blanket. My intent was to let her rest up so I could do that again a few more times before I left, but she beat me to it.
“That was incredible but you need to get the hell out of here, big dog.”
I stared down at her incredulously, thoroughly offended. “I pounded you into your washing machine and you call mebig dog? Seriously, Shae?”
She grinned devilishly. “Well, now I know it’s true.”
“Did you just make a dick joke?” Both of our gazes fell to my dick, half limp but valiantly trying to make a comeback for round two. “I should spank you again.”
“Don’t you dare,” she groused, but the pink in her cheeks saidyes, please.
I narrowed my eyes at her. I wanted to snuggle up with her, take that lingerie off, and bury my head between her legs. Her mixed signals were making my head hurt. “I don’t know what a hate fuck entails. Afterward.”
“You need to leave.”
I didn’t like how quickly she came up with that directive. I crouched down and kissed her, rough and not nice. She fucking loved it based on the little whimpers she fed me.
“Good night, Shae,” I whispered, figuring I needed to leave before she decided a hate fuck entailed actually kicking me out through use of violence. I’d go home and regroup. Now that I’d had Shae once, I needed her again. And that required a solid game plan.
“I hate you,” she whispered back.
I stomped back to the laundry room to get dressed. When I came back out, the woman was either a very good actor or she was asleep on her couch. I was leaving, but first, I made a pit stop in her kitchen.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Shae
I woke just after midnight,my boobs half strangled in the lingerie that Boon had bunched under them. The blanket still covered me, and as I stretched my legs out, I was deliciously sore. A stupid grin split my face as I thought back on every detail of the laundry room incident. I would never be able to do my dirty clothes again without blushing. I sat up and swung my legs over, getting to my feet and putting my lingerie back together.
My giggle rang out in the quiet of the night as I thought about calling my best friend. Lydia was going to crap her pants when I told her what happened. Entering the kitchen, I opened the fridge for a bottle of water. I froze, then burst out laughing.
There, on the top shelf, was a sandwich on a plate, wrapped up and waiting for me. A sticky note sat on top. All it said in messy handwriting wasI have a load of laundry at my place that needs washing. Don’t let me down, woman.
I took half the turkey and mustard sandwich with me as I walked to my bedroom. It was a damn good sandwich—how didBoon know I liked mustard and not mayonnaise?—and part of me couldn’t believe he’d made it for me after all.
The girls had been right. Hate-fucking was a lot of fun. I snuggled into my bed, tummy full and brain circling every hot detail. I had a feeling the panic would set in later. Tomorrow, my busy brain would dissect everything we’d said and done and wonder if I just ruined a decades-long hate-ship, but for now, I’d sleep easy in the afterglow of the best orgasm I’d ever had.
The ping of my phone woke me up midmorning, earlier than I wanted to get up on a Saturday. It was Lydia, of course, wanting to know how my date with the guy from the app had gone.
Me: He cancelled on me ten minutes before he was supposed to be picking me up.
Lydia: I’m gonna kill him. Slowly. Cruelly. I already have ideas.
I sat up and brushed my hair away from my face. If it wasn’t for the slight sting of my skin against the sheets when I scooted up to the headboard to sit upright, I would have thought last night hadn’t happened. Boon Wolfe hadspankedme.
Me: Don’t bother. I ended up getting the booty call I was after anyway.
