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“You gonna deny it, Queeny? Hmm?” Manny noses my temple before kissing my head. “You gonna pretend we don’t want to go crazy on each other?” He grinds against me, and I whimper. “That’s right, baby. Tell me all about it,” his raspy voice purrs in my ear.
Curious fingers creep up my rib cage, and deft thumbs brush the sides of my breasts. A bolt of lust zaps through my stomach and pulls lower. I’ve never in my life so badly wanted a man to get to second base.
“Just the thought of another man touching you makes me furious. Makes me want to mark your skin with my mouth and brand you as mine.”
As mine.
Oh my … fuck. Abandoning the dishes, I completely surrender, the back of my head resting against his shoulder.
“You want that, don’t you?”
“Yes.” I almost moan the word because, let’s face it, last night boundaries were busted and I’m not too motivated to put them back into place. Not when the promise of a heavenly psychedelic orgasm trip via one hot manny’s celestial cock is right in front of my face… Er, I mean, right behind me.
But then I remember he has plans with a very important someone. A female someone. I stiffen and pull away, not looking at him. Not wanting him to know how hurt I am by his games.
“You have plans.” A man played me a fool once—I’ll never let it happen again.
He deflates with a soft curse. “Fine, I have plans. I want you and Isabel to come with me.”
I whirl around, facing him. “What?”
“Come with me, my jealous queen.” He gives me a wry smile, and he’s just too adorable to reprimand or lie to. Because I am. Jealous, that is.
And curious. This could get interesting.
And still a bit hungover.
And turned the fuck on.
I pick up Isabel out of her chair and race upstairs to get her ready for our outing.
“Okay, but if it’s a drug run and we get busted, it’s every man for himself.”
Chapter 15
Cumbrellas
Mae
Twenty minutes later, Remi picks us up in his pink Cadillac, and I try not to laugh. I’m not making fun of his vehicle. It’s just so odd seeing this hot-as-hell guy in a frilly grandma car.
“Emmie, Emmie, Emmie,” Isabel blathers on about her favorite person.
He gets out of the car and pulls Isabel from me. “Quit biting your cheek. You’re going to get a sore. But if you laugh at Aretha, she will get mad. You don’t want to get on her bad side. Trust me.”
Not able to help it, I burst out laughing. “You call your old-person car Aretha?” I shake my head, trying to catch my breath, wiping tears. “You never cease to amaze me.”
Opening the back door, he straps my daughter into the car seat I gave him. “Well, to be honest, her name was already Aretha when I inherited her. I promised to keep her happy and healthy. So I tell her what a good girl she is every day.”
How? How does he turn a silly conversation into something that flicks my nipples and clit at the same time? “I bet she’s a really good girl for you.” I’m trying to be funny, but I can’t help the heat that warms my tone.
“She is.” He opens up the passenger door for me, and I slide in. “I know just how to tune her up right.” He winks, and I pass out from lack of oxygen.
Remi settles in the driver’s seat, looking in the rearview mirror to make sure Isabel is content, before driving down the road. “What do you want to listen to, Isa-bea?”
“Sussi!”
Fighting a grin, he shakes his head. “Of course.”
