Page 8 of Accepting Agatha


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“Yes. Very good.” She smiled up at me, and it was a version I hadn’t seen yet. Shy? No way, not this girl. But her eyes were saying exactly that.

Do you like it? Do you like me? Do you want more?

Yes, yes, and hell yes.

“Am I crushing you?” I asked.

“No, but I wouldn’t mind if you tried to.”

She laughed, and that damn sound made me drive my hips forward to press my hard-on into her.

“Mmmm, yes, please.” And just like that, the shy girl was gone, and the saucy, cocky, confident woman was back. Both had their pluses and minuses, and my mental jury was still deliberating which I liked better.

We made out for long minutes, and by the time we were groping at each other’s clothing, I knew a decision had to be made. We either needed to commit to this attraction and go for it, or I needed to get off this bed immediately.

And probably go work one out under a cold shower.

“Tell me, Agatha Sandoval,” I growled in her ear. Since my face was buried in her neck, I couldn’t see her reaction to me using her new name.

“What?” she panted. “Tell you what?”

“Are we doing this?”

“Yes, God, please. I don’t know how much clearer I can be here.”

“Not what I meant, Storm.” I liked that nickname for her. She was a tempest wrapped in a sexy body, with blue sky eyes and a tornado personality. It fit her perfectly.

She bit my neck where she’d been kissing, and I hissed. It felt so fucking good, and I was about to give in. Forget the talking and the promises I wanted her to make me while she was vulnerable and bury myself inside her alluring body.

Luckily, a cooler head prevailed than the one leading the charge thus far.

“I meant”—I kissed her once but pulled back when she tried to move in for more—“stay married. Give it a try being husband and wife.”

Her eyes shot open wide, and I could see the thunderclouds move in. Lightning would strike next with a verbal assault; I just knew it.

“Is that the only way you’ll fuck me? If we’re really married? Are you some kind of religious nut and haven’t told me?”

She tried to put space between us, but I wouldn’t budge. I outweighed her by at least seventy-five pounds, and while she was fit and strong, I easily pinned her to the mattress. This time, when I attempted to kiss her, she turned her head to dodge my effort.

“Don’t be a brat now,” I said, and again, out of nowhere, my voice took on a dominant edge. Something about this woman was making even my unconscious traits morph.

“I’m not being a brat. I don’t get you. Why would you do all this?”

“All what?”

“Get us both all ramped up and then basically throw a bucket of ice water on my pussy.”

“Is that why it’s so wet?” I grinned down at her.

“Ha. Very funny.”

I slid my hand back into her little panties that were driving me insane. They were the sexiest white-cotton underwear I’d ever seen. Inside was the warm, wet paradise I needed to taste. Right now. I’d ask her again to commit to me when she was on the brink of orgasm.

Dirty tactics? Maybe.

Did I care? Not one single bit.

“I think I better take a closer look,” I teased and backed off her body. With a hand on each of her hips, I dragged her down the mattress, and she erupted with a giggle.

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