Her Gentle Gangster by Carolyn Faulkner
Chapter Six
Cara
Out of breathand barely capable of speaking, I stare at my torturer. Have I done something wrong?
I open my mouth to speak, but he already has answers before I can voice my questions.
“You won’t like it. You won’t like the way I need it.”
My breath catches in my throat. “I want it all the ways you need it. As long as it’s me.”
“It won’t be nice. It won’t be what you deserve. You deserve a prince who will sweep you off your feet and whisper sweet nothings. My brain is full of nothing but filth when I think about you, Cara. And that’s wrong. Because you’re a sweetheart.”
I gird up my loins and say the only thing that will get through to him. “Fuck all of that. Fuck sweet innocent Cara.”
Crowding in as close as I can, I block the view of him from the waist down from the street and grab his hand, the one that was just about to make me come. I use it to cover one of my breasts. He needs to feel how hard my nipples are. He needs to know how I crave his touch everywhere.
“Sweet Jesus,” he rumbles.
“You’ve been staring at my breasts all morning. Have at it, then. Have your way with me. Take me on the front lawn for all I care. Let Mrs. Hurley watch. I’m so fucking horny I don’t give a shit about anything anymore.”
Michael’s skin looks taut around his skull, like a beast ready to explode. “So you’re saying, I can get you out of my system, and you get me out of my system, and we go back to being functional adults?”
“Yes,” I lie.
No way I’m going backward after this. I already predict everything that happens today will only make me love him more.
Brazenly, I reach out and palm his dick. Michael growls from somewhere deep in his chest, barely audible. It’s more of a vibration. His eyes take on a wild look as his dick twitches in my hand.
At this exact moment, the sprinklers go off next door at the Hurleys’ house. I startle at the noise and then laugh when I realize what it is.
Seeing my laughter, combined with my hand on his length, Michael curses loudly—so loud it echoes off the other houses—then grabs me by both shoulders and pulls me inside.
Finally, my heart cries. Finally.
His large body slams me against the closed door, his breath all over my neck. “This is it; there’s no going back out there, little girl. I’m taking everything.”
His hot mouth crashes into mine, and it feels like a million stars explode in my sky. He kisses me hard, fiercely, like a man starved of love and affection.
His hands take control of my body, one pinning both my wrists against the door above my head, the other roughly scraping up the outside of my thigh, hitching up my dress. Michael owns every inch of me he touches.
He deepens the kiss, teasing my mouth open with his tongue. I hadn’t had enough of the initial, sweet kissing, but my body is so in tune with him that it responds to the probing of his long, greedy tongue.
With his wet, warm kisses owning my mouth, his hand travels across the front of my thigh and between, urging me to spread my legs. When I do, his palm crosses over the front of my pussy, his calloused hand roughly snagging on the stretchy fabric of my lacy undies.
He groans into my mouth and breaks the kiss, both of us out of breath. His gaze is so intense as his hand brushes back and forth there, below my navel, lighting up every spark of pleasure in my body. I don’t know where to look, so I cast my eyes over his shoulder, focusing on the cake on the kitchen table. “Eyes on me, beauty,” he rasps.
He demands that we maintain eye contact throughout the next few moments of him gauging my arousal, prodding it, exploring it. It’s uncomfortable and yet hot as hell.
His fingers tug the fabric to the side, and he slips two thick digits into my folds. “Is that for me? Is that virgin pussy wet for me? This is what you came here for, isn’t it? If you can’t look at me while I bang you, then you’re not ready, baby girl.”
I jut my chin out, rocking my hips forward to increase the pressure of his touch. “I’m ready to be your grown-ass woman.”
He arches an eyebrow at me and drags a second, then a third finger through my wetness.
“A grown-ass woman who knows what her man needs. A grown-ass woman who listens? Who’s going to do exactly as I say?”
My lips ache with the need to kiss him again; my pussy throbs as it chases the touch of his exploring hands. “You know I’ll do anything.”
I let go of her wrists. “Take off that dress.”
“Easy,” I sigh with a smirk, and the yellow nothing of a dress hits the wall and floats to the hardwood floor.