the windshield as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. With her
distracted, he took a minute to take in the very short shorts she wore, the
little tank top that didn’t do much to cover her breasts, and the silk robe.
Oh, and he couldn’t forget the sneakers. He grinned at his woman’s feet.
“What are you grinning at?” she asked in a playful tone that
made his cock stand at attention.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned back, spreading his arm
over the back of her seat. “Your feet. You stopped to put shoes on. Not
slippers, but shoes.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, when Tante Claudette woke
me up, I wasn’t sure what to expect. She just said Nonc was going to
shoot someone.”
“Kitty Marie, were you worried about me?” he asked in fake
astonishment, pleased when his acting made her cheeks flush. “That’s so sweet.”
“Shut up, Monk Paul,” she sassed back. “I didn’t want to
have to take down my uncle before he committed murder. What in the world were
you thinking?”
He reached over to stroke the long length of her neck. “I
was thinking that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I had to
see you tonight.” The skeptical look she sent him made him want to laugh. He
held it in though. Barely. “You think I don’t find you gorgeous, Kitty-Cat?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re a male who wants to get in my
pants, Monk. Of course you’re going to think I’m attractive. I don’t mind
though ’cause I want to get in your pants too.”
His cougar purred. She was being playful. Perfect.
“Well why don’t you come over here?” he asked with a pat on
his lap.
She eyed the bulge at his groin. “That doesn’t look very
comfortable.”
“It’s the best seat in the house,” he said with a fake leer.
He grinned at her laughter. “C’mon, sugar, give me some sugar.”
She kicked off her shoes and crawled closer to him across
the gear shift, the scent of woman and spices filling the air. Without her
needing to ask, Monk eased his seat all the way back, memories of doing this
exact same thing years ago crashing through his mind. Having a lap full of
Kitty Chambers had been some of the happiest memories of his youth.
When she swung her leg over to straddle him, he held his
breath and let it out with a shuddering groan as she lowered herself directly
over his cock. He could feel her heat through his denim and her thin shorts and
all he wanted to do was dive right in, but he wasn’t here to make love to her.
He was doing this to show her he had restraint. He did have restraint, right? Right?
His heart thundered in his ears when she wiggled in his lap.
“Why, Monk, what a big…stick shift you have.”
“Brat,” he groaned as he gripped her hips to hold her still.
Not that it helped much. He could smell her arousal and almost taste the honey
between her legs. “You know, I never did get to taste you,” he mused out loud.
She went still on top of him. “I spent hours and hours jerking off as a teenager
thinking about burying my face in your pussy, lapping at you until you came.”
Her scent grew stronger and her nipples hardened beneath her tank top. “It was
my number-one fantasy, followed by taking you in every position known to man.”
Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders, her hips
grinding a wicked little circle against his denim-covered cock. “And now?
What’s your number-one fantasy?”
To mark you again and make you mine, this time forever. The words were there on the tip of his tongue, but he held them back. She’d
only go back to defense mode if she suspected he was doing any of this to mate
her again. Instead, he said, “It’s still my number-one fantasy, except this
time I’d lay you out on the hood of the car and eat you out that way.”
The way she shivered told him she wasn’t completely opposed
to the idea, but February was still a little too cool for that kind of play. If
he could convince her to stay home, he’d wait until March
distracted, he took a minute to take in the very short shorts she wore, the
little tank top that didn’t do much to cover her breasts, and the silk robe.
Oh, and he couldn’t forget the sneakers. He grinned at his woman’s feet.
“What are you grinning at?” she asked in a playful tone that
made his cock stand at attention.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned back, spreading his arm
over the back of her seat. “Your feet. You stopped to put shoes on. Not
slippers, but shoes.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, when Tante Claudette woke
me up, I wasn’t sure what to expect. She just said Nonc was going to
shoot someone.”
“Kitty Marie, were you worried about me?” he asked in fake
astonishment, pleased when his acting made her cheeks flush. “That’s so sweet.”
“Shut up, Monk Paul,” she sassed back. “I didn’t want to
have to take down my uncle before he committed murder. What in the world were
you thinking?”
He reached over to stroke the long length of her neck. “I
was thinking that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I had to
see you tonight.” The skeptical look she sent him made him want to laugh. He
held it in though. Barely. “You think I don’t find you gorgeous, Kitty-Cat?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re a male who wants to get in my
pants, Monk. Of course you’re going to think I’m attractive. I don’t mind
though ’cause I want to get in your pants too.”
His cougar purred. She was being playful. Perfect.
“Well why don’t you come over here?” he asked with a pat on
his lap.
She eyed the bulge at his groin. “That doesn’t look very
comfortable.”
“It’s the best seat in the house,” he said with a fake leer.
He grinned at her laughter. “C’mon, sugar, give me some sugar.”
She kicked off her shoes and crawled closer to him across
the gear shift, the scent of woman and spices filling the air. Without her
needing to ask, Monk eased his seat all the way back, memories of doing this
exact same thing years ago crashing through his mind. Having a lap full of
Kitty Chambers had been some of the happiest memories of his youth.
When she swung her leg over to straddle him, he held his
breath and let it out with a shuddering groan as she lowered herself directly
over his cock. He could feel her heat through his denim and her thin shorts and
all he wanted to do was dive right in, but he wasn’t here to make love to her.
He was doing this to show her he had restraint. He did have restraint, right? Right?
His heart thundered in his ears when she wiggled in his lap.
“Why, Monk, what a big…stick shift you have.”
“Brat,” he groaned as he gripped her hips to hold her still.
Not that it helped much. He could smell her arousal and almost taste the honey
between her legs. “You know, I never did get to taste you,” he mused out loud.
She went still on top of him. “I spent hours and hours jerking off as a teenager
thinking about burying my face in your pussy, lapping at you until you came.”
Her scent grew stronger and her nipples hardened beneath her tank top. “It was
my number-one fantasy, followed by taking you in every position known to man.”
Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders, her hips
grinding a wicked little circle against his denim-covered cock. “And now?
What’s your number-one fantasy?”
To mark you again and make you mine, this time forever. The words were there on the tip of his tongue, but he held them back. She’d
only go back to defense mode if she suspected he was doing any of this to mate
her again. Instead, he said, “It’s still my number-one fantasy, except this
time I’d lay you out on the hood of the car and eat you out that way.”
The way she shivered told him she wasn’t completely opposed
to the idea, but February was still a little too cool for that kind of play. If
he could convince her to stay home, he’d wait until March
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