AllFreeNovel
Share Us
SIX
Patriot bit the inside of his cheek and forced back a growl of appreciation.
Cilla in her waitress uniform was sweet, luscious, and sometimes adorable. Cilla in her comfy clothes—her shorts and threadbare t-shirt?
God.
Damn.
He could see right through the thin material of her old t-shirt, with the words “All’s fair in love and Lore!” written on it.
Never in his life had he been as tempted as he was in that moment. Her heavy breasts hung loose, her nipples were hard peaks against her shirt that was thin enough for him to see that her sexy little buds were a sweet light pink in color.
Fuck, they probably tasted like strawberries and cream.
His favorite flavor.
Her shorts weren’t shorty shorts, the kind the club women wore, but they weren’t basketball shorts, either. They were cotton and hit right above her knee, giving him an amble view of her lower legs, and the start of thick, milky thighs, thighs he wanted wrapped around his head…then his waist, as he showed her just how much pleasure they could wring from each other.
He bet she was tight, her pussy hot and wet. She’d make him goddamn delirious when she came, and that hot, tight cunt squeezed the shit out of his dick.
His cock thickened in response to that thought, pressing against the zipper on his jeans.
Gritting his teeth, he fought the urge to readjust himself, especially with Cilla eyeing him like he brought the Black Plague to her door.
Yeah, she was pissed, and she looked fucking hot with her pink cheeks, glittering eyes, her arms crossed under her beautiful tits, and her legs parted in a stance he assumed was meant to copy his.
Damn, he liked his sweet Cilla all riled up. Too bad he had no idea what the fuck she had to be riled up about. She was the one who’d been avoiding him for four fucking days! Four days without her, and he was like a goddamn addict, coming down from a high and fucking crashing without his fix. Four days without his Cilla fix, and he was dying.
Without her, he had no peace, no comfort, no true pleasure in anything.
Have you realized yet that you need her more than your next breath?
Yeah, fucking internal voice, he knew. But he couldn’t accept it.
Cilla didn’t need to be tied to someone like him—like a fucking anchor around her neck, when she was just learning to swim. Life, as it was, was just beginning for her. And him…he’d lived, he’d done shit, he’d fucked up, he’d learned, and he’d sinned…and now he was living with the consequences of a life lived hard.
Consequences like falling head over heels for a too young, too innocent, too fucking sexy for her own good woman—and not being able to love her like she deserved to be loved. Like he wanted to love her.
Clearing his throat of the sudden lump of emotion he just couldn’t swallow, he huffed and thrust his fingers through his hair. His manbun had come loose on the drive over, and he hadn’t given a fuck about it, not when he was on a mission to get to Cilla, get Cilla to explain what the fuck she was doing, and then…. Well, he had no idea what he was going to do after that. He only knew that now he was here, with her, getting his fill of her for the first time in too many days, he couldn’t catch his fucking breath.
Shit.
Focus on the facts, fucker!
“Why have you been avoiding me?” he demanded, feeling like shit when she flinched at his tone and volume. Fuck.
Reel it in, asshole! She isn’t your enemy!
“Shit, Cilla…” he sighed, dropping his hands to his sides where he squeezed them into fists to keep from reaching out to touch her, to pull her into him and hold her.
She raised her hand to stop him from continuing, her eyes blazing.
“If you came here to be an asshole, you can leave right now. I am not in the mood, Patriot,” she snapped.
He almost curled his lip in humor—fuck, she was feisty when angry.
She’s going to be explosive in bed, too. All that fire raging inside, waiting to come out with the just right trigger….
