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“Do I get to lick your pussy now?”
“Good night, Ben,” she yawned.
“Good night, my sexy little tease. Dream of my big dick. Any chance you know how to do a headlock with those thighs?”
“You are a strange man.”
“I am the only one you will ever need.”
Curling into his body, Angelina sighed and closed her eyes. Tomorrow was soon enough to decide if he was hers or not.
Chapter 13
The scent of coffee drifted up the stairs pulling Angelina out of a deep sleep. Lying there, she thought about her day. With no clients coming in today, there was time to work on a few things she needed to finish for Gary and Mack. After that, she could add the in-law areas for Cort. Fingers crossed, her email would never see another sexual contract. She didn’t think she was lucky enough for Reginald to leave her alone, but as long as he never sent another creepy contract, she would call it a win.
“Shorty, get your ass out of bed. You are going to be late for work.”
“Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.” Angelina grumped as she ran her hands over her face. “My very own personal alarm clock that yells up the stairs at me. Lucky me.”
A quick check of her phone revealed Ben was right. She needed to get a move on it if she was going to make it across the yard to her office on time. It wasn’t like anyone was keeping track, but she needed to get as much done each day as possible. The waiting list of clients was impatient.
With her feet on the floor, Angelina headed for the closet. Stripping off Ben’s shirt, she replaced it with a tank that didn’t need a bra. God bless whoever had the ingenious idea to put extra support in shirts. She selected a pair of plain blue cotton panties and turned her attention to finding her favorite jeans. They were gone. Not gone, gone but not in the closet.
Without a second thought, Angelina jogged down the stairs to the laundry room. Fingers crossed, her pants were in the dryer. The dryer was empty. She groaned. Last week was the last time she ran the washer. If they were still in there, she wasn’t wearing them today.
Popping open the lid, she was prepared for the musty smell of forgotten clothes. Instead, she was greeted by the scent of freshly washed articles of clothing. Angelina scooted the stool in front of the washer. She learned long ago that the vertically challenged needed to keep step stools throughout the house to make life easier. Standing on the top step was helpful, but she still had to lie over the edge to reach the things at the bottom.
“When this thing dies, I want one of those front-loading ones. No more climbing in the washer to get the clothes out.”
She paused after pulling out the first thing her hand touched. Those were Ben’s clothes. Reaching in again, she pulled out the pants she was looking for. There was something intimate about their clothes being in the washer together.
Intimate and domestic.
Tamping down those feelings, she transferred the wet clothes into the dryer. Reaching the bottom of the tub, she snagged the last sock. It refused to budge.
“One in every crowd,” she grunted as she pulled, leaning into the washer until the top half of her body was inside the machine.
Ben rounded the corner to the laundry room and stopped dead. His woman was bent over the washer with her sexy panties on display. Her shirt slid up under her breasts. If this was his reward for throwing clothes in the wash, Ben would gladly do laundry every day, twice a day.
“Damn, Shorty,” he groaned. “You did this on purpose. Drive me crazy showing off that ass bent over the washer just waiting for me to find you.”
“You caught me. It was my diabolical plan,” she grumbled from inside the washer. “It has nothing to do with the sock stuck under the agitator.”
He couldn’t help himself. His hands itched to touch her. Lightly trailing his hand up the inside of her bare thigh and across her upturned ass had his breath hitching and his crotch tightening. She had the perfect ass. He watched in fascination as goosebumps rippled across her skin.
“Ben,” she squeaked. She hit her head off the agitator when his hands wandered over her ass cheeks. She should stop him before this went any further. She should tell him to keep his grubby mitts to himself. She should, but she couldn’t get the words past her lips. His touch created a storm within her—one she wanted to feel, even if only for a moment.
“Taking these off,” he murmured, tugging her panties down.
Angelina couldn’t move. She didn’t want to be anywhere else. He was standing behind her. Close enough that she could feel his body lean into hers and the hard bulge she was dying to explore. The contrast of rough cloth against her bare skin was driving her crazy. His hands were making her want to feel them do more.
He held his breath, waiting for her to tell him to stop, as he slowly slid the material down her legs until it fell to the floor. He saw all of her incredible body bared to him, even undressed her. This was different and so much better. His heart stuttered as he exhaled a muffled moan when she arched into his touch. Angelina wanted this too.
“Time to pay up.”
“Pay for what?” Angelina tensed.
“You hurt my feelings,” he teased as he explored her body. His hands stroked every inch of exposed skin, stopping right before he got to her drenched folds.
