I wasn’t sure where he was going with his question, so I jokingly asked, “Why, are you expecting me to move in with you?”
His eyes left the road for a second to flick to me. “Come again?”
“Just wondering what you’re getting at with your question.”
“I’m seeing what we’re working with here.” He turned a corner and slowed in front of a house built on stilts with a set of freshly painted white stairs leading to a covered front porch. It was bright blue with white shutters and was neat and clean. New, post-Katrina, was my guess.
“This is your place?”
Lord pulled up the two gravel tracks alongside the house.
Guess that answers my question.
“Yeah. All mine.”
“It’s cute.”
I wasn’t sure what I expected from him in response, but the crooked smile I got and the quick, “Thanks,” worked just fine.
Lord put the car in park and climbed out. I gathered up my purse and bag and grabbed my door handle, but he was already pulling it open from the outside and reaching in to take my stuff.
Okay, then.
I followed him up the stairs and waited while he unlocked the double deadbolts. Apparently this wasn’t the safest neighborhood either. But looking around, I wasn’t surprised. It still wasn’t fully revived following the hurricane. There were a few houses in varying states of decay, a few new ones, and a decent multi-family unit across the street. Lord’s was, by far, the nicest. Sort of the opposite real estate tactic I’d always heard—buy the crappiest house in the nicest neighborhood … but something told me that Lord wasn’t worried about resale value.
I quickly catalogued again what I knew about him—he’d been booted from foster care early on, ended up in the military, and had moved back to town after he’d been honorably discharged. His life had been constantly in flux, and this place could possibly be his first real home.
“Here you go—tour takes about sixty seconds because it ain’t big. Two bedrooms, a bath and a half, living room, kitchen, laundry, and storage.”
The house was clearly a bachelor pad. A wide, gray couch and a black coffee table sat with a darker gray rug beneath them. A flat screen TV was mounted to the wall across from it, above a black entertainment unit.
The floors were a paler shade of laminate wood, and from what I could see, the rest of the living area was sparsely furnished. A small table and four chairs sat in the tiny breakfast nook just off the kitchen. A narrow hallway ran toward the back of the house, and I counted three doors. Probably the two bedrooms and the bathroom. A few bar stools were pulled up to a black and silver swirled countertop.
Lord dropped my bags on the end of the couch. “You wan—” His question cut off mid-word, and I knew he’d been about to offer me a drink.
“I’m good,” I said, replying without elaborating.
“Water?”
“Is this really what we’re doing here, Lord?” I asked, short-circuiting the conversation.
His blue eyes locked on me, and for a moment we just stared at each other.
“What do you think we’re doing here?”
“I think we both know how this is gonna go down. And I’m perfectly fine with that.”
There she went again, charging after things before I’d decided how I was going to play the situation. No one could say that Elle was timid or unsure. She was bold and in-your-face. I guess it was lucky I wasn’t the kind of man who had a problem with that. No—it just turned me on even more. Shit, there wasn’t anything about her that turned me off.
“You in some kind of hurry?” I asked.
“No, just want to make sure we’re on the same page with how tonight is going to go.”
She wanted to lay it out? We’d lay it out.
“I didn’t bring you home just to fuck you, Elle.”
Her perfect red lips dropped open and her eyes widened. “But I thought—”
“That me taking care of you means that we’re fucking? Not necessarily.” Her forehead wrinkled in confusion, and it fit with my thoughts from a few days ago about keeping her off balance. Shit, I’d been off balance since she’d walked into my life and thrown my world into chaos.
“But what if I want it to mean that?” Elle said, chin up and lips parted.
The woman was sexy as fuck, and how could I hold out against that?
“I guess I might accommodate you this time. Because right now, I’m dying to know how sweet that pussy of yours tastes.”
If I expected my words to throw her off balance again, I would’ve been wrong. Elle strutted across the room to the back of the couch and hopped up on the top. She spread her legs, and braced her arms on either side. Her skirt rode up her thighs.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
All the blood in my body rushed to my dick when she wiggled so her skirt slid up even higher and I caught a glimpse of her bare pussy.
“Fuck me, I can’t wait to eat that sweet little cunt.”
If my crude words bothered her, she made no mention of it. Just the opposite—her smile widened.
“All talk, so far … sure hope your skills are up to par, pawn star.”
Every word out of her mouth was a dare, and it was time for me to show her how things were going to be. I stalked to the couch, shoved an arm beneath each of her spread thighs, and lifted her into the air. She yelped as I balanced her against my chest and strode down the hallway to my bedroom. I wanted her in my bed.
When I reached my bedroom, I dropped to my knees and her ass hit the comforter.