Page 64 of Average Joe

Bruises and cuts marred my skin from head to hips. I clapped the sides of my feet together. “If I’d had shoes on, that guy’d be six feet under Alice’s rose bushes by now.”

She didn’t laugh, but she stepped closer, brushed a fingertip over my swollen lip. “You want me to drive you to the hospital? Make sure you didn’t break any bones or damage that giant ego of yours?”

Only one thing could dull my aches. I lunged forward, hooked that slim waist, flattened her against my chest, and took what I’d needed since the last time we’d been together.

Palms to my chest, she pushed, but she parted her lips and let me in, and damn, the contact hurt like a mother. I didn’t care. Nothing mattered but her body against mine, the taste of her minty gloss, the heat of her jagged breaths.

Marley wiggled, and I tightened my hold because, fuck no, she wasn’t bolting. With a sigh, she shifted, straddled my lap, and broke the kiss.

“Joe”—she shook her head, eyes glazed—“I can’t.”

“Shut up.” I jackknifed forward, thrust my hand under her heavy sweatshirt, and palmed her fabulous breast. “Stop pretending you don’t want me,” I grunted, pinching an already tight bud through the lace of whatever getup she wore under her sweats.

Her back arched, pressing her pussy harder against my growing erection. “I need to get back…” Her voice trailed off, her hips rocking as I worked her breasts.

“I almost died today defending your home.” Between her legs, my cock swelled to throbbing, scalding steel. “You wanna thank me. I can tell.”

Her laugh fizzled when I claimed her mouth. While our tongues tangled in slow seduction, I worked on removing her annoying cotton barrier, tugging the hem up, up, breaking the lip-lock to pull the shirt over her head.

Sweet Jesus.

Lace clung to her chest, see-through except for her nipples, but loosened at the waist. I explored, shoving a hand down her backside, thrilled but also appalled to find nothing but a string ducking between her ass cheeks. The view was a privilege, and none of the men she’d served today deserved this gift. Lucky fuckers. All of them.

A single word played on repeat in my head. More. More, more, more. Desperation made men weak and foolish. Color me stupid because I needed, more than air, to be inside my beautiful neighbor. Claim what was mine. Mark my territory. Make her moan and scream and beg. Fill her so full of me she had no doubt that I alone was created to worship her body.

Sweet heavenly torture, I was about to explode. “Let’s take this inside, gorgeous.” I hooked a finger around that string of lace and tugged. “Wanna see you in these panties. Strip them down your thighs with my teeth, then fuck that pussy with my tongue.”

The color of her cheeks was sensual enough, but when she pressed down hard against my erection, then dragged her cunt over the length of me, the euphoria damn near knocked me unconscious. I hissed, my body jerking.

Marley didn’t stop. The woman slid one hand around my head, fisting my hair. The other held my shoulder tight, and she rocked and rocked, kissed me, then bit my lip. She slapped my hands away when I tried to touch her breasts or pull her close.

“Don’t move, Joe,” she panted before biting my earlobe. “Let me give this to you.”

When a woman like Marley says, “Let me give this to you,” you fucking hand over the reins. I sunk into the cushion and gripped the sides of the chair with deadly force. But fuck, with those tits in my face, the friction where she rubbed me, the noises she made while chasing her release, the scent of coffee mixed with her shampoo, or lotion, or whatever girlie shit she wore? Every ounce of willpower I possessed stretched to the breaking point.

We were nothing but sex and flesh and the thrill of the chase. Marley rocked while I thrust in response. We could have taken seconds or hours—who cared when we were lust drunk—but when Marley tossed her head back, mouth open in a silent scream, I blew my load inside my Calvin Kleins, and that shit just kept coming.

Marley fell against me, yet still, I quaked through the intense release, my arms around her once again, muttering, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” into her neck because that was the only word I could form.

When the rise and fall of our chests slowed, Marley dismounted, tugged the sweatshirt back over her head, and smiled.

“I need to get back to work,” she rasped before turning to saunter away. She threw over her shoulder, “Oh, and thank you for being my hero today,” then left me alone in a sex coma on her patio.

The woman would be the death of me.

And I would die with a dopey smile on my face.

Marley

There he stood at my door with a dopey smile on his face. Warren. The last man I ever wanted to see.

Bile rose despite his beauty. Thick, wavy hair fell over bright eyes that sparkled no matter his mood. Deep dimples gave a false sense of warmth and sincerity. Women all over the country had fallen for his magnetism. Me? I’d numbed to his charm years ago.

“Hey, girl.” His deep, rich timbre still made my heart gallop like a herd of wild horses running to their doom off the edge of a cliff.

“I told you never to come here.” I gripped the door with one hand and the frame with the other, blocking his view of my personal space. “I don’t want to see you.”

He looked past me, sniffed, and nodded before meeting my glare. “You’re my girl. We need each other.”

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