“Juneau—” I started, but the look in her eyes stopped me, and I just smirked as I grabbed the steering wheel in both hands, doing my best to look cockily skeptical. “You know what? I’m all yours, darlin’.”
She reached across the console, and the way she gnawed on her lower lip gave her away—she was nervous. I wasn’t sure what she thought she had to prove, but the way her anger provoked her was hot as fuck.
Pulling up to a stoplight, I said, “You know, Juneau, you don’t have to prove anything to me.”
Which only served to feed her ire. “I’m not trying to.”
I glanced pointedly at her hand, which was resting on my thigh, exploring the muscle there. “No?”
“If I’m proving anything, it’s that you really don’t know me, or what I’m capable of, or what I will or won’t do—if I want to.”
I gripped the wheel hard, twisting the leather. “In that case, carry on.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “I’m glad I have your permission, sir,” she murmured, tracing the outline of my erection against the folds in my jeans.
I eyed her, resisting the urge to flex into her touch—which would have been a blatant plea for her to touch me more, and I was determined to stay cool no matter what.
“Everything okay down there?” Juneau asked, knowing full well I was beginning to have trouble keeping my cool.
“What, that li’l ol’ thing?” I drawled, nodding to the front of my jeans.
Juneau’s teeth sank into her lower lip, a habit I found unbearably sexy. “Not so little anymore, Rem.”
I huffed a laugh. “Matter of opinion I suppose.”
She frowned at me in confusion. “Aren’t you the one who told me my sketch hadn’t done your godlike endowment proper justice?”
“Don’t you think my cock is godlike?”
“Well…I don’t know yet. I haven’t been properly introduced to it.”
I lifted an eyebrow at her. “I thought that you could make the necessary introductions right here, right now.”
“What would you think if I did?” she asked, her eyes seizing on mine. “About me?”
I just stared at her. “What would I think about you?” I laughed. “What a bizarre question.”
“No, it’s not,” she argued.
“Yeah, it is.” The turn that would take us to her apartment was coming up, but I passed it by, and she didn’t seem to notice. “What do you expect me to say? Like, what, I’d call you a dirty slut or something?”
She shrugged. “I mean…kind of, I guess?”
I cackled. “Juneau, babe. For one, do I really seem like that kind of a guy?” I glanced down at her hand, which was now resting on my thigh, covering my erection. “If you were to…uhhh…explore…a little bit, I’d be too busy enjoying it to think about what it said about your character. And considering I’ve already eaten you out, I’m not really in any kind of place to be judging you for getting a little handsy.”
She ducked her head. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” She looked around us, then. “Hey—you missed the turn.”
I grinned. “I guess I did. I’ll swing around the block.”
She eyed me suspiciously. “You missed it on purpose.”
I rolled a shoulder. “Maybe, maybe not.”
“Don’t you want to get somewhere more private where I’m likely to be less inhibited?” she asked.
“Yeah. But I’m also just curious whether or not you’re all talk right now.”
She stared steadily at me, her expression hardening into resolve. “I’m not all talk.”
I just held a steady grin. “Okay. I believe you.”
Her gaze turned fierce. “No, you don’t.”
“Fuck, man—I can’t win! I admit I’m curious as to what you’ll do, but if you’re gonna turn it into something weird, then forget it. I’m not a manipulator, Juneau.” I held her gaze. “If I was going to try to get you to put your hand in my pants, I’d be upfront about it.”
“Yeah?” She made it sound like a dare.
“Yeah, actually.” I grabbed her hand, placing her palm over my erection. “I’d be very, very clear about what I wanted.” I thrust suggestively into her hand. “There would be absolutely zero doubt.”
Juneau let out a tight breath. “Oh,” she breathed.
“Yeah, oh.”
We were making a turn that would lead us down the last couple miles back to where her building was. I put both hands back on the steering wheel, pretending to not care at all about the outcome of this odd little exchange.
I watched Juneau, though.
She was chewing on her lower lip so hard I was worried she’d hurt herself, and she was breathing hard—which was distracting, to say the least, what with the way her breasts lifted and fell, swelling against the confines of her shirt.
She noticed my gaze, and her grin turned amused and seductive at once. “See something you like, Remington?”
I growled. “Fuck yes, I do.”
She glanced around quickly, seeing that we were alone on the road for the moment and then, unexpectedly, she twisted to face me, hooked her fingers into her top, and tugged it down to flash her breasts at me. “What, these li’l ol’ things?”
The sight of her bared for me sent all the blood in my body flooding south, and I went fully rigid, swelling in my jeans so hard a groan of pain escaped me. “Shit, Juneau. You don’t play fair.”
She laughed, and I realized I’d played right into her trap. Not that I wanted to fight this at all, but still. The point remained, I had played right into her hands.
Acting with abrupt confidence, she reached across the console with both hands and unfastened the fly of my jeans, and then tugged down the zipper. Immediately, my erection sprang into the opening, swelling hard against the confines of my underwear, curling awkwardly down and away from my body in a painful, unnatural angle. Hesitating only a split second, Juneau glanced at me, at my groin—and then she delved her hand under the elastic of my underwear and palmed my cock.
I nearly drove off the road.
“Ohhh…shit,” Juneau whispered. “You’re huge.”
12
Juneau
Holy mother of all cocks—you hear about or read about guys being “hung like horses” or whatever, but feeling the reality in your hand? A whole different ball game.
I slid my hand under the elastic of his underwear and cupped my hand over his cock—and the words that came out of my mouth emerged unbidden. “Ohhh…shit. You’re huge.”
His grin was lazy, arrogant, and simmering with lust. “Told ya.”
“Guys who brag about the size of their dick are almost always lying out of insecurity,” I said.
He shifted, flexing his hips as if trying to alleviate discomfort. He was stuck, I realized—his cock trapped down against his thigh inside his jeans. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t bragging when I said that, just…informing you that your drawing wasn’t accurate.”
His cock was so warm, so velvety smooth, and I just wanted to get it out in the open, bare, and look at it, caress it, stroke it, discover it, explore it. I wrapped my hand around him, and my shock over the sheer size of him only magnified—he was so thick, my hand could barely make it all the way around, my thumb and forefinger only just meeting.
“Seems like you’re trapped in here,” I said, sliding my fingers from the base toward the tip, following his thigh.
“Yeah,” he growled.
“Is it uncomfortable?” I asked, lifting my eyes to his.
He narrowed his eyes, and all but snarled at me. “Fucking hurts like a bitch.”
“So…you need some help.”
“Now who’s playing games, Juneau?” he rumbled. “Yes, I need some help.”
I lifted the waistband of his underwear away from his belly and guided his erection to slide upward into place against his body, the fat, gleaming, bulbous head bobbing near his navel; a droplet of precum beaded on the tip.
He sighed in relief. “Thank fuck.”
I had him in my fist, the elastic waistband pinning my hand inside his underwear. “Looks like you’re…leaking a bit.” I grinned at him, licking my lips at the beautiful sight of the upper couple of inches poking out over the top of his black underwear.
“Yeah, well, I’m hard as a fucking rock and you’ve got your hand on me. I’m about to do a fuck of a lot more than just leak a little bit, babe.”
I bit my lip at the thought of him exploding, right here, right now. “That’d be messy,” I said. “You should wait until we’re somewhere more private for that.”
He just smirked. “Then you better get your hot little hand off my cock and put away those tits.” He indicated ahead of us with a jut of his chin. “We’re here.”
We were pulling up to my building, I realized. I hurriedly released him, tucked him back into his underwear, and zipped him up—but I wasn’t certain the fly would button closed again, not with the gargantuan presence of his cock in the way.
“Leave it,” he muttered.
I tucked myself back into my shirt as he pulled up to the curb outside my building and into a parking spot. “You’re going to go in there with your fly open?”
He shrugged. “My shirt’ll cover it, I hope.” He quirked an eyebrow at me. “That thing ain’t going back in all the way, Juneau. Not after the attention you paid it. He’s sitting up begging for more.”
I huffed a laugh. “Well, let’s hope your shirt covers it, then.”
He shut off the engine and we both got out; I rounded the hood to the sidewalk and found Remington standing facing his truck, tugging the front of his T-shirt down in a comically vain effort to cover the obvious erection. No way were his jeans buttoning again, and no way was his tight, fitted black T-shirt hiding anything.
I bit my lip in an attempt not to laugh. “Might have to wait until it subsides before we go in,” I said.
“Fuck that,” he growled. “That’ll take way too long. I keep thinking about getting you alone and naked and I get hard all over again.”
“Stop thinking about it, then?” I giggled again as he winced, trying to get his jeans to button. “That’s not working, Rem. It won’t fit.” I could tell my laughing wasn’t helping his current attitude any, which was irritated and aroused and impatient. “What do you do when you’re trying to…errr…hold back or whatever? Do you, like, think about nuns or something?”
He grumbled wordlessly for a moment. “Nah, that shit doesn’t work. Just makes me lose it completely. Only way to hold back is to use the muscle to hold it, and even that only works for so long.” He stared at me, his gaze white-hot with lust and need and promise. “I don’t hold back. I just make sure my partner gets hers before I get mine.”
“Oh,” I said. “I see.”
“Like I said earlier—once I get my hands on you, Juneau…you have no idea how hard or how many times I’m gonna make you come.”
“With the way you made me feel last time, I’m starting to believe you.”
He sucked in his belly and tried yet again to button his jeans, to no avail. “This conversation is not helping my situation.”
I glanced into his truck. “Do you have a hoodie or something? You could tie it around your waist and pretend you got hot and took it off?”
He nodded. “Hmmm. That may work. I do have an old hoodie in here.” Rem jerked open the back passenger seat, leaned in and snagged a faded, well-worn gray hoodie off the floor and then closed the door again, wrapping the sweatshirt low around his waist and tying the sleeves in a knot directly over his erection. “Well…it sort of works.”
I covered my mouth with a hand, stifling a laugh. “I mean, sort of.” I took his hand and led him to the door of my building. “Enough to get us inside.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and your roommates won’t be there,” Remington said, following me up the stairs to our unit.
We approached my door, and I heard voices—Izzy and Kitty bickering about something. I laughed again. “No such luck, it seems. You should just stand behind me as much as possible, I guess. Izzy will take one look at you and know what’s up, and then she’ll make all sorts of filthy jokes and it’ll be awkward.”
“Sounds like Ram,” Remington muttered.
I opened the door and led the way in. Izzy and Kitty were on the couch, watching Netflix and arguing about which of their favorite characters was better. Remington stayed behind me as we moved into the living room, and as we paused to talk to Kitty and Izzy, he sidled up behind me, pressing against me and rested his hands with possessive, familiar intimacy on my hips. I stifled the urge to toss his hands off me—and the equally powerful urge to push back into him, to writhe against the thick ridge of his erection I could feel nudging against my buttocks.
Izzy and Kitty went silent, and Izzy lifted the remote and paused their show.
“Well. Um…” Kitty blinked at us, a puzzled frown on her face. “Hi?”
“Ladies.” Remington waved a hand, immediately replacing it on my hip, smoothing his palm down to my thigh and back up, even circling back to caress the outside of my right ass cheek. “How’s it going? Nice to see you both again, Kitty, Izzy.”
Izzy just stared. “Remington. Fancy seeing you here…” She eyed the way he was posed behind me, her eyes going to his hands, which were brazenly roaming my hips. “With Juneau.”
There was a slight emphasis on the word “with”, making it a question, to me, of how with we were.
There would be no way of hiding what we came here to do, I realized. So I may as well just own up to it, bold and open—for once in my life.
Kitty glanced at my outfit—the skirt, the blouse showing off my tattoos. “Juneau, you look…amazing.” She eyed Remington behind me, his hands, the way we were standing together. “I have to admit I’m a little…surprised.”
“At what?” I asked.
Kitty shrugged, gesturing at me. “Everything. Showing off your tattoos, and now this thing with Remington…it’s just a different side of you, I guess.”
“I’ve been hiding parts of myself for too long,” I said. “Maybe I’m just getting tired of it.”
She held up both hands palms out. “Hey, look—I’m all for it. God knows I’ve changed a good bit myself lately.” She smiled. “I like this new you.”
Izzy seemed less certain. “Is the new you about to tell Kitty and me that you and Remington are going into your bedroom?”
Remington went still behind me, his hands tightening on my hips. It was a subtle thing, but I felt it. He was very interested in how I would play this, I realized.
I bit my lip, brows furrowing, a grin curling my lips, and then I nodded. “Yeah. That’s exactly where we are going.”
Remington chuckled quietly behind me. “Atta girl. Own it.”
I twisted to frown up at him. “Hush, you. This is girl talk.”
He rumbled another laugh. “Yes ma’am.”
Izzy’s eyebrow curled up. “Do we need to, like, give you two privacy? Or just turn up the volume?”
I shrugged. “You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. I just don’t want to make this weird between the three of us.”
Kitty laughed. “Too late, babe. But then, I’ve brought Roman over and made it very clear we were just here to have sex. And god knows Izzy has brought over plenty of boy-toys, and not been in the least tactful about it.”
“Tact is for people who give a shit,” Izzy said, her voice arch and haughty. “And I give zero shits.”
“The point is,” Kitty said, rolling her eyes at Izzy, “neither of us have any cause to be making it weird for them.”
“You know what’ll make it weird?” Remington said. “Continuing to talk about it.” He tangled his fingers into mine, the backs of my hands nestled against his palms, and rested his chin on my head; it was an oddly and almost uncomfortably intimate pose. It made my heart thump in a strange way. “So let’s just wrap it up by saying Juneau and I are going to go into her room and hang out now, and let’s all j
ust be adults about this.”
“Something’ll be hanging out, all right,” Izzy said, cackling to herself.
“IZZY!” Kitty snapped. “Inappropriate!”
Remington laughed, though. “Woman, you are so right.” His chest vibrated with another laugh. “You and Ramsey would like each other, I think.”
Izzy’s expression went opaque and unreadable. “We’ve…met.”
Remington laughed. “And I think I’ll leave that one well enough alone.” He patted my hips with both hands. “So. Which room is yours, Juneau?”
I stepped away from him, pulling him by the hand into the short hallway and toward my room. All three of us kept our doors closed pretty much all the time, mainly since none of us were the neatest people in the world and it was easier to close the door on our messy rooms than to pick them up.
I opened my door, let Remington go in before me, and then closed the door behind me, twisting the lock and then pressing my back to the door. Remington was standing just inside, taking in my room—there was a laundry basket with dirty laundry spilling out of it, a chair in one corner with my clean clothes piled on it, my dresser opposite the foot of my queen-size bed, a few drawers cracked open. My closet was open as well, dresses, skirts, sweaters, and blouses stuffed into it to overflowing so the bifold doors wouldn’t close. There were at least four bras hanging by their straps from the knobs of each bifold door, and my shoe collection spilled out of the bottom of the closet—snow boots, mukluks, dress boots, flats, slides, sandals, heels, wedges, clogs, knee-high boots…my shoe collection was even more extensive than my clothing.
“I wasn’t expecting to bring you here,” I said by way apology for the mess. “I would have cleaned up if I had.”
Remington just waved a hand dismissively. “Nah—I like it like this. I like seeing how you are when you’re not expecting company. It’s the real you.” He crossed the room to the dresser and examined my other collection—figurines I’d made over the years while sitting under the folding awning with my mother. “What are all these?” he asked, picking up a little carving of a hare sitting up on its hind legs, head turned to the side, ears tall—a little pink stone made the nose, bright chunks of turquoise for the eyes, polished ovals of agate inset in the ears.
Badd Business Page 18
