Page 55 of Hearts to Mend

“Of course we’ll be fucking later!” he says, loud enough I’m pretty sure my crew heard. Hell, my dad probably heard from all the way up by the bar.

And I’m not inclined to argue, so I take the bet. “If I win, I’m on top. I want to pin you down and ride you like a bucking bronco.”

A slow grin spreads across Rico’s face. “I might be inclined to let you win.”

“You better not, or I’ll ride you right to the edge and stop.”

“Ouch. Okay.” He considers for a long moment, then leans in a little closer. He’s so far into my space that he’s all I can see, all I can feel, all I can smell, and when he speaks, he’s all I can hear as his deep voice teases. “If I win, I want you face down and ass up, your hands braced against the headboard while I fuck you so hard you come screaming my name.”

Well. Shit. Now I’m the one inclined to let him win.

With a soft kiss to my cheek he asks, “Deal?”

“Deal,” I manage to say as I take a sip of my iced tea to cool myself off.

“Yo, Rico, it’s your turn, man,” Rooster hollers.

Rico walks over to the line and throws another strong round. So do I. And back and forth we go, aiming to get to 501 first as the other guys enjoy the show.

Finally, when we’re both on the finish, I go for it. Stepping to the line, I consider my options. I need 124 points. After doing some quick math in my head, I decide on a triple nineteen, a triple seventeen, and double eight. With a deep breath in and out, I throw.

It’s a hit, a hit, and a miss…

What the fuck?

I frown at the board where my third dart sticks askew from the double sixteen, giving me sixteen more points than I need to check out. It’s a bust.

How did I miss that? I look up at the air-conditioning vents, wondering if a strong breeze knocked my dart off course.

“Tough break.” Rico pulls the darts out of the board, looking cocksure and very annoying as he adds in a whisper, “Start stretching those fine legs, baby. I have a few more positions in mind, and I sure don’t want you to hurt yourself when I tell you to bend over and grab your ankles.”

If looks could kill, Rico would be resting in pieces right now. But they can’t, so I step away from the line to watch him flawlessly throw a triple twenty, a triple eighteen, and a double twelve to check out.

Fuck.

All around me, the guys celebrate Rico’s victory. He pockets the cash and coaxes me away from my fixation on the air-conditioning conspiracy, looping an arm around my waist and pulling me up against him. “I’m ready for my real prize, baby. You gonna give me what I want?”

I don’t need anything more than those words to shift my focus away from losing the set and onto Rico, the winner. With a grin, he has me fixated on his mouth, and I’m practically begging for him to take his prize. “Let’s go.”

* * *

After I pull into my parking spot at the apartment in my precious purple Priscilla, my favorite black Charger rolls into the space beside me. We walk up the stairs together in silence. I know better than to distract him with kissing and flirting when we’re on the stairs. He has a firm grip on the railing as he makes sure the slight drag of his left foot doesn’t trip him up.

But once we’re on the landing, all bets are off, and some of our clothes are on their way off too. I hustle to unlock the door, and before I’ve even pulled the key from the knob, he’s on me, hands groping, mouth tasting. I giggle, and he growls, grabbing my hair and pulling my head back so he can nibble my neck as he asks, “Something funny?”

I really like it when he gets feral like this. And I like to get bratty and poke the beast. “You’re funny. Growling like a caveman, so desperate for me.”

“I’ll show you a fucking caveman,” he says as he bends and picks me up, tossing me over his shoulder and carrying me toward the bedroom. We leave the door hanging open, my keys still in the lock, and I don’t care. I don’t care about anything when Rico gets like this.

Since his stroke, since we reconnected, it’s like he’s out to prove something. He fucks me wholeheartedly, like there is no defect, like there was no stroke. Our sex is aerobic and exhausting. I love it, and I think he needs it, to prove to himself he’s still strong.

He tosses me on the bed and gets on top of me, pressing my whole body into the mattress, his hard cock grinding against my backside. “You know what I want, baby. Push that sweet ass up and give me what I won.”

God, yes. I moan and press my palms to the headboard as I rub my ass against his cock, begging him to make good on his promises from before.

To my great excitement he does, yanking at the button and zipper of my pants to get them down my thighs, and then his palm cups my head and pushes my face into the mattress as he works his own jeans. I turn my head enough to be able to breathe, and I cry out from the agony and ecstasy as he shoves his cock deep inside me.

“That’s my dirty girl.” His breath burns my cheek as his voice growls in my ear, and his weight crushes me into the bed as he takes me so fully, fucking me completely as he wraps me in his entire body, his arms around my neck, his legs pinning mine, his hips pistoning mercilessly against me. “You like it when I take you rough, don’t you, baby?”

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