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Diesel
I’ve lost blood, not my damn mind. Amanda wants me as much as I want her little ass next to me every night. She’s a warrior. Determined to care for me, but reluctant to fuck me. Her kisses are scorching, and her body is fire under my command. Never have I encountered a woman who totally snags my attention yet fights with passion to avoid capture.
I admire her restraint.
It’s futile, but admirable.
“It’s late.” I yawn, pulling her tighter against me. It’s quiet here, peaceful. I can’t remember a time in my life I’ve felt this stillness. Maybe it’s this place, but deep in my soul, a port I rarely visit, I think it’s the woman in my arms. My little realtor is tucked into my side, her head in the crook of my arm. One of her bare legs is draped over mine.
I feel her smile against my skin. “You’ve had a rough day, Grinchy. Get some rest.”
Slapping her ass, I chuckle when she mutters something about cowboys and spankings.
“After I put the tip in, we’ll both go to sleep.” In my head, I picture that tight body beneath mine, wet, willing, and wild as firelight.
She rears up, lips parted to rip me a new one. She looks incredulous, amused, and sexy as hell. Her hair is loose, and her face is bare of makeup.
“The tip of what?”
“My cock.”
Her smile slips. “Diesel, we don’t get down like that.”
I shove her head back down. Okay, she’s still playing hardball, but why does she look as blue as my balls feel? This time when she raises that pretty face to regard me, I listen.
“I really am sorry, Grinchy.”
With care she runs her fingertips over my forehead. The pain has lessened. Now another part of my anatomy aches.
“About the accident, or refusing to fuck me?”
Her smile is strained, and her eyes are cautious. Interesting, the warning seems to be more internally driven than of me. What an interesting character Amanda is. I want to know everything about my little gift-wrapped package. She’s absently rubbing her leg around mine. At first, I think she’s being coy, but she’s oblivious to the fact that she’s teasing a tiger.
“Both, actually. I would never hurt you.”
I swallow, not wanting to frighten her back to silence. Truth is, I believe her. Amanda talks constantly, but she’s sweet and caring, dedicated to her family and friends. I don’t think I have much of either, by design. Family is complicated and friends are a constant time-sucker.
“Accidents happen, sweetness. It’s in the past.”
She twists her lips like a kid in a regrettable situation. “I know, but you warned me. I kind of have a defiant streak.”
I raise a brow in question. “Hence, the earlier ass spanking?”
“Naw, that’s just you.” She chucks me on the chin.
I shift, studying her more intently. For a business relationship, we know our way around each other’s quirks. Which leads back to my original question. “You say you’re not mine?”
“I’m not.”
Watching her, I glide one hand over the round globe of her ass, under her scrap of cloth, to her center. I hover above her clit, the nearness heats my skin. My dick instantly reports for duty, ready to put in hard labor. She inhales sharply at the almost contact.
“You’re wet, Amanda. For me.”
“I—”
“Don’t deny it,” I growl. She’s lowered her head, her face hidden in the shadow of the dancing fire. The wood in the grate, slips and cracks, the sound slashes through the air. Neither of us respond.
“I wasn’t, Diesel. You got my nose wide open.”
“But not your legs?” I say with humor.
Laughing, she says. “You’re hurt, Diesel.”
I spread my legs farther apart, settling her squarely against my throbbing erection. She leans into my hardness, a breathy sigh escaping her plump lips like my dick is the throne she’s been waiting to conquer.
“You’re horny, Amanda.”
“Exactly,” she intones. “Hurt and horny is a bad combination.”
Talking with an irrational woman when she’s hot and bothered is so cute. Her excuse maybe valid, but I’m used to hard work. Getting Amanda requires a bit of overtime.
“Fact is, my key,” I pump my hips, ensuring she feels the full effect of her body on mine, “turns your lock.”
She squirming now. Those intelligent brown eyes are searching for a response she can’t deny. With one hand, I tuck a stray lock behind her ear. She wears a coiled ear cuff, and I toy with it absently. Amanda’s eyes drop to half mast, a raspy ahhh reaches my ears before she bites it back.
“You want me, Amanda.” Rolling my shoulders to shake off a growing fatigue, I move in for the final takedown. “I’ll give you the head, see if that little ass can handle the rest,” I whisper.
“Oh Grinchy,” she coos. I like the nickname. Another example that she’s mine. “Between my legs is the eternal garden of dick kryptonite. I’m talking, stripped of your superhuman strength. In your weaken state, you’ll probably need physical therapy to make a full recovery. Trust me, I’m making it my business to protect you from yourself.”
I circle the back of her neck, my hold is sure, but I’m careful not to hurt her. “Only business I need, sweetness... is you riding my dick until it’s broken, or you are.”
She licks those lips I love sucking, and I follow the trail of glistening wetness with my eyes. If I swiped a finger through her center, my hand would come away with her sweet cream.
“Our business relationship,” she emphasizes the word business, “is unconventional. But we’re not there, yet.”
It’s my turn to ride the crazy train. Not only are we there, there’s money in the parking meter.
“You’re in my bed, titties bouncing, with a scrap of loincloth covering your pussy. And you want to convince me this is calculus? It’s not.”
“Like I told you. I’m your realtor,” she adds, more grit in her voice. “You hired me to sell this ranch. It belonged to your father. You don’t want it.”
“Huh.” I frown. “I told you all that?”
“On the drive up.” She nods. “Yes.”
“From Baltimore? Where I picked you up?” That means I’m in the driver’s seat. Feels like that would be my approach but doesn’t sound like any realtor-client business relationship I know of. At least, I don’t think it does.
“Yep, that’s right.”
Hell no, it’s all wrong. And Why am I feeling drowsy? Amanda’s face is fuzzy, and my lids are two boulders attached to one hundred weights.
“Realtors don’t juice like you do for my cock, sweetness. Your ass should be a magician, the way you conjured that shit up. Be quiet.” I yawn again, my limbs feeling heavier than the minute before. “Climb on up here, my little story weaver. Your patient needs a sleeping potion. Your body is the perfect prescription.”
She gives me a twisted grin. “Yeah, about that tea you drank. It’s called Sleepytime.”
My eyes drift close, padlocking together, but not before I whisper. “You’re going to get your ass spanked.”