We glare at each other.
“I’m going to have a shower while you decide which one of us you want.” I sneer sarcastically.
He throws his head back in disgust. “And you reckon I’m fucking dramatic.” He tuts. “You’re going for a fucking Oscar here.”
“If it’s not me, Spencer, then get out,” I say. “Go stay elsewhere tonight.”
He puts his hand on his hips. “This is my house. You can’t kick me out of my own house.”
“I just did, and guess what? I am moving in.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to move in now.”
“Tough shit!” I yell as I storm up the stairs. “You have no say in it.”
“And you think I’m fucking crazy,” he calls after me. “Can you hear yourself, Charlotte? You don’t want to move in with me until someone else does.” He laughs sarcastically.
“You’re not going out with her!” I yell down to him.
I walk into his bedroom and slam the door shut. I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my body.
Calm down, calm down, calm down.
I shake my hands to try and expel some of my negative energy. I am so angry right now. I walk into the bathroom and inhale deeply. I turn the shower on hot, and the water begins to stream down heavily.
I handled that badly, but honestly, what did he expect? I look around for a towel and can’t see any. There are none on the towel rails, none folded anywhere. I go to the top of the stairs.
“Where are the towels?”
“In the linen cupboard. Where do you think?”
“You’re an idiot. And the worst host ever.”
“I thought you fucking lived here now. That makes you the host.”
“You’re lucky this is an apartment building, or I would bury you under it.” I hear him laugh out loud in surprise, and I turn and stomp back up the hall.
I’m not even joking, I probably would.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing under the hot water, feeling my anger running down the drain along with the water.
At least he told me about Sheridan coming to him today. He didn’t try to hide it, I suppose.
Maybe I overreacted?
He walks into the bathroom a second later, flashing me a lopsided smile. I can’t help but give him one back. He takes a seat on the side of the bath and watches me.
“Sorry for screaming at you.” I sigh.
He exhales heavily. “I’m sorry for calling you a bitch.”
I smirk and pick up the soap.
“What are you doing?” He frowns.
“Washing myself. What does it look like?”
“I told you that I wanted to wash you.”
“Well, you’re not doing a very good job of it.” I widen my eyes. “Are you?”
He chuckles. “Jesus Christ, where is the shy, sweet Charlotte I first met?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. What on earth have you done to me, Spencer Jones?”
He stands and begins to unbutton his shirt.
“Don’t bother taking off your shirt until you decide what you’re doing tomorrow night.”
He frowns.
“I mean it, Spence. I don’t want you seeing her.”
“Angel.” He sighs. “I gave her my word, and I’m a man of my word. If I make a promise to someone, I keep it.”
“And you made a promise to me that we are exclusive and making a go of this. Meeting with your ex does not fit in with that, Spencer.” My eyes search his. “Please try and see this from my point of view. If I had an ex, would you want him coming into my office and me comforting him about our breakup, then making plans to see him at night?”
He walks to the edge of the shower and watches me for a moment. He runs his hand down my cheek, and then cups my breast, deep in thought. His thumb dusts over my nipple and it hardens beneath his touch. “No, I wouldn’t.”
I rise on my tippy toes and kiss him. My face is wet as it rests up against his, and his big hand drops to my naked behind.
“Keep your promise to me, Spence,” I whisper. “No matter how many times you meet with her, it isn’t going to get any easier. Just the opposite. It will get harder, and you will end up either in bed with her or having a huge fight. There is no in between with the two of you, you know that.”
He drops his eyes to the floor. “I just feel bad, you know?”
I smile softly. “I know.” I begin to unbutton his shirt. “That’s because you’re a good man.”
“I didn’t know that she felt like this.” He sighs.
I push his shirt over his shoulders, and it falls back to the floor. “Of course she would feel like this. I imagine all women you meet fall madly in love with you.”
“I can’t comment.” He gives me his best cheeky smile and shrugs. “I know you do hate a show off.”
I giggle. “Lucky I like idiots though, hey?”
“If you don’t want me to see her, I won’t.”
“I don’t.”
He exhales heavily. “Okay.”
I pull him in under the shower, and he wraps his big arms around me. His lips take mine and his tongue slides slowly through my open mouth. He towers above me and his large frame takes over the space.
He smiles as he kisses me.
“What?”
“You do know I concocted that whole story just to get you to move in here with me, right?”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“You’re terrible at finding towels.”
I laugh out loud. “Is that the best you’ve got?”
“For now, yeah.” He grabs my behind and pulls my cheeks apart. His open mouth drops to my neck and I feel his large erection up against my stomach.
His open mouth ravages my neck, and he bites me hard, forcing me to wince.
And there it is.
The perfect moment where Spencer Jones loses control and he returns to his primal, natural instincts. Where his body needs to orgasm, and he’ll take it whether I want to give it to him or not. He switches from the sweet, lovable man I know, to a hungry predator who needs to fuck.
There is always a bite, a subtle hint that he’s reached his limit. Some days it comes faster than others, but it’s always there. I’m addicted to this man of mine and the way that he makes me feel.
He gets out of the shower and disappears into the bedroom, reappearing moments later as he unwraps a condom. I watch on in awe as he slowly rolls it on. It doesn’t matter how many times I watch him do this, it always fascinates me.
When his eyes rise to mine, I see the hunger in them, and my stomach dances with nerves.
Then he is on me. I’m pushed up against the wall as his open mouth takes mine. His hand holds my jaw just the way he wants me, and he grinds his hard cock up against my hipbone.
“We need to fuck, angel.”
“Yes,” I whimper against his lips. He lifts me and wraps my legs around his waist. I’m pinned between the wall by his hard body. He kisses me slow and deep as he slides his hard dick through my swollen wet lips.
“You want my cock?”
“Hmm.” I hold onto his shoulders for balance. His tongue slides through my open lips again as he takes what he needs. Does he honestly think I can string two words together when he has me like this?
With two hands, he brings me down onto him hard, and I feel the familiar stretch as his body dominates mine.
My eyes close and I release a whimper.
He smiles darkly and circles himself deep inside of me. “You like that?”
“God, yes.”
He lifts me and slams me back down again, knocking the air from my lungs.
I throw my head back against the tiles and he builds a rhythm. The room is steamy and hot. Water is streaming down over his face, yet the way he is looking at me might just set me on fire. He goes faster and deeper, lost to his own concentration. He stares straight ahead as our skin begins to slap together.
“So. Fucking. Good,” he pushes out.
My body convulses forward, and he sees that as his signal to really let me have it. With both hands over my shoulders, he slams into me again and again, and I screw up my face and cry out as a freight train of an orgasm steals my breath.
He lifts me like a feather on and off his large muscle.
“Oh, that’s it. Clench that beautiful cunt for me, baby. I want to feel it.”
Slam.
Slam.
Slam.
“Clench!” he growls.
So, deep… too deep.
“Charlotte, fucking give it to me.”
My face creases up as I try and deal with him. He’s like an animal when he gets to this point. The only thing he’s thinking about is the orgasm his body craves.