by Liz Crowe
“Didn’t you say your girlfriend owned a building?” She tilted her head and looked at me as if I were deaf, dumb, and blind. “Maybe you could rent a space from her? She’s also got lots of money. Bet she knows some investors.”
Again, the woman was smart. She didn’t run the backend of the cattle business because she was dumb.
“Maybe I could talk to Aspen about it. But if she doesn’t feel the same way, I … ”
“Shut it, Punky. You tell that woman how you feel and I’d bet every dollar in my bank account she feels the same. Have a little faith, dear. You’re a Jensen. My boys are irresistible. You’re the most loveable men in the world.”
“Ma, you’re biased.”
“That’s right, and with good reason. You will take perfect care of her. She needs a real man around. If you don’t give her that, I’m telling you, she’s a catch. Someone will … ” she left off.
To hell with that! There was no way on God’s green earth that I’d let another man so much as touch a hair on her purdy head. The thought of someone kissing or making love to my girl made me crazy. Insane. Downright certifiable.
“Ma, goodnight.”
“Go get her, baby!” she yelled as I headed to Aspen’s study.
She was standing staring out the window, arms crossed protectively over her chest. She didn’t hear me come in. I took in her form as she stood facing the New York skyline. I could tell she was lost in thought. She was so beautiful.
The gray dress she wore clung to her hips and ass. The light from her desk lamp highlighted the gold in her long blond hair. Her head was tipped to the side, exposing the creamy column of her neck. That neck made me weak. I wanted to brand her, mark her there so everyone could see that she was taken, that she was mine.
Slowly, I crept up and slid my arms around her waist and set my head in that lovely crook in her neck. She sighed and curved her form against mine. She filled all my spaces perfectly.
“Angel, we’re going to work out our living situation … ” I started, but she cut me off.
“How? It’s impossible, Hank. This has all been great, but it’s not reality. It isn’t real.”
White-hot anger spiraled through me. How could she blow this off so easy? My entire body tensed around her, fingers digging into her hips.
“You don’t mean that, this is very real … ”
She flipped around in my arms. Tears streaked down her angelic face. It killed me to see her hurting. I wanted to kiss away those tears, to make her happy, see her smile.
“Is it? Is it really, because it feels like a dream. Like a perfect, beautiful dream ... but not real.” Her voice broke into a sob on that last word.
Hands gripping her head to me, I crushed my mouth over hers. On her gasp, I pushed my tongue into the sweet cavern of her mouth, tasting the honey I knew I’d find there. My hands trailed down her back and to her ass, pressing her against me. “This feel real, Angel?” I thrust my erection against her and she groaned. Turning us around, I lifted those sweet cheeks into the air and she clamped them around my waist in a vice.
I pushed the chair and documents from her desk and set her ass on the wood surface. Her mouth ravaged mine, our tongues swirled, teeth gnashed. When she sucked my tongue I spread her thighs wide, opening her most private place to my need. Fumbling fingers found the edges of her panties and I tore the material off her in a snap. I brought the soaking lace to my face. She watched me, her eyes dilated to the point where I could barely tell they were blue. Through my nose I sniffed her sopping panties, her scent firing through my senses and settling at my cock, making me painfully hard.
“This real, Angel. How wet you are for me, how fucking good you smell!”
“Hank … ” her voice held so much need. A need only I could fill.
I shoved down my pajama bottoms as she lifted her dress up and off her body. My hands covered the supple round globes of her breasts, tugging the nipples into tight aching points. I laved one nipple, swirling my tongue around the surface. She moaned and arched her back, offering her breasts up as a gift. I worshipped each tender peak with my tongue, lips, and fingers.
“This real, Angel?” I continued my rant as I sucked and lavished her breasts until she was rotating her hips hard against my cock, wetting it with her pleasure.
“Fuck, Hank … ”
“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you will never forget how real this is, Angel.” I lined up my cock with her entrance, gripped her ass cheeks in both hands, and slammed into her. She screamed, throwing her head back. I pulled out and did it again. “Is this real, me buried balls deep in your perfect pussy? This is—” Thrust. “So fucking—” Thrust. “Real!”
She came hard against me, her cunt squeezing me in a viselike grip. Holding strong against my own desire, I tipped her back to lie fully on the desk. She arched with each aftershock, her beautiful pale body on display, ready for me to take her again. I pulled out of her and she groaned. I needed a taste.
“Hank, Hank … you … need.” She was barely able to speak through her panting.
“Oh Angel, I’m not done with you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Hank’s hands were everywhere at once. Before I could even come down completely from the high, he had me spread out naked on my desk, legs splayed wide. He twirled his thick fingers into my sex, rubbing my clit with one hand while the other gripped my thigh. Sex had never been like this before Hank. It wasn’t just sex or fucking, it was an experience. The man had incredible skills in the bedroom and he used every one of them on me.
I moaned and tried to reach for him as the pad of his thumb rubbed the tight knot of pleasure at the apex of my thighs. He whispered, “Feel real to you, Angel?”
Then he abruptly sat in my office chair, pulled my lower lips wide and dipped his tongue in for a taste. He moaned in approval. His tongue licked and nipped, as if my center were a ripe peach. My eyes rolled back and closed, the pleasure too much to bear. He held my thighs wide open as he feasted, fucking me with his warm tongue. I could hear the wet suck and pull of his tongue and lips against my sex.
Before long he added a couple fingers, tipping them up perfectly to my G-spot. He hooked that delectable spot with his fingers and yanked, hard. I came instantly, pushing my hips against his face, riding his mouth. I could feel his smile against my pussy, then he wrapped those full lips over my clit and nibbled me into another mind-altering release.
I shoved and pushed at his face. “No more, I can’t. No more …”
He stood up, pulled my thighs to his huge cock and slowly entered me. The swollen tissue of my sex relented at his assault. So full. He reached deep, so far within me it was possible he was touching my very soul.
“You can handle more, Angel, and you will. Feel me within you. My cock pressing you open … ”
“So big, too much,” I barely spoke as he pulled out and slammed his cock to the hilt, crushing my clit in the process. Shocks of desire spiraled down my spine and out my fingertips. When we were joined my entire body hummed and tingled. I’d never felt more alive than when I was joined with this man.
“Never too much.” He groaned and rotated his hips. I gasped at the pleasure. “This … right here. This is real. You feel it now, Angel.” He punctuated his statement with a deep thrust that made my teeth rattle.
“Yes, I feel it … Oh, Hank, I feel it.” I screamed as he jackhammered me. He hooked my legs around his waist and pulled me up to him. Face-to-face, his lips devoured mine in a brutal kiss. His tongue entered and receded, simulating what our bodies were doing down below.
He sat down in the desk chair and his cock jutted higher into me, going impossibly deep. I could hardly breathe. He rubbed our noses together and kissed me softly. “Feel me, Angel?”
I nodded.
“This is real … don’t ever doubt that.” I nodded again. “Now ride me.” His voice cracked with the effort to speak. He was finally losing control. It made me hungry for him. Power
ful.
I clasped my hands behind his neck and twisted my fingers in his dark hair. It was slick with sweat. I kissed him, tugged on his bottom lip with my teeth, then soothed it better with my tongue. “I’m sorry … there has never been anything more real in my life,” I whispered against his lips. “Only you.” I punctuated my words by lifting up, using the leverage of my feet and what strength I had left to slide up and down his length.
Then, I rode my man like I was an award-winning horse jockey. His hands held my hips and thrust up into me on the down stroke. His hips would tilt up, his body arching to me. It was the sexist damn thing I’d ever seen. We set a perfect rhythm until both of us were clawing at the other, nails puncturing in little crescents against moist skin as we screamed out our combined release.
“Only you,” Hank whispered into my ear as I lay in a heap on top of him, legs and arms dangling. A handful of orgasms would do that to any woman. His hands soothed up and down my back until I lost track of what was happening, too sated to do anything other than snooze against his warm, bare chest. His heart beat slowing provided the perfect music to lull me. He stood up with me still wrapped around him, our bodies forever connected. He exited the study. I was half-asleep, both of us completely naked as he headed toward our room.
“’Night, Ma,” I heard him say. I didn’t have the energy to worry about what this looked like.
“Oh my, son!” she said with a laugh. “I’ve covered my eyes, Aspen! Jeez Son, you could have warned me. You’re going to make me miss my Henry something awful seein’ you two like that.”
“We worked it out,” he said continuing to walk to our room. Instead of being mortified I just accepted it. Hank did what Hank wanted. If he chose to walk us both naked from room to room, that was his prerogative. At least she’d only seen our asses since our fronts were plastered together. Hopefully she wouldn’t judge me too harshly in the morning.
“So you did. Well then, goodnight.”
I woke up the next morning to something wet licking my hand and something poking my shoulder. I opened one eye to find Butch lapping happily at my hand that hung off the bed making it nice and slobbery. Oliver was the culprit poking my shoulder.
“Ollie, its Sunday. What the hell are you doing here?” I sat up and the blankets pooled at my waist. Oliver covered his eyes and it took me a moment to realize what he was doing.
“It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before. Hell, you’ve probably seen me naked more than Hank. A lot more than Hank.”
That got Hank’s attention. He sat up, his bed hair spiked all over the place. Oliver did not hide his eyes when Hank’s naked chest came into view. Couldn’t blame him there, the man was a remarkable sight.
“Lucky bitch.” Ollie tsk-tsked and ogled Hank openly.
“True.” I grinned. “What do you want? Why are you waking me up on a Sunday?” I asked as Hank tugged me to lean back against him and pulled the blanket up to my neck. He did not like another man seeing me naked. Made me feel special, coveted.
“This better be good, Buddy.” Hank kissed my bare shoulder.
“It’s work, Pen. We’ve got a rogue model. This time I think she’s overdosed. She’s supposed to be at the shoot in Times Square right now.”
I flung out of bed stark naked jumping over Butch who then jumped up on the bed. Hank groaned.
Ollie sat on the bed petting the dog as I jetted into the bathroom to take a quick shower.
I could hear laughing, then Oliver entered the bathroom heading to the walk-in closet. Hank was hot on his heels.
“Jesus, Oliver. I’m going to tear into you if you don’t stop looking at my girl.” Oliver just continued through the bathroom to the closet to choose my outfit.
“Hank, when are you going to learn that I have no interest in your girl’s boobies or anything else?” Hank stood naked as a Jaybird and stomped his foot. “You on the other hand … ” Ollie looked at Hank in all his glory.
Cock hung down thick and heavy along his thigh, tight dark hair nestled at the groin. Sculpted abs and chest. It took everything I had not to trail my hands down to my center to rub one out while watching him, angry and flustered, standing just outside the shower stall’s glass door. The man was just too good to look at.
Ollie continued to openly stare at my man. “Damn, Hank. If I wasn’t in a committed relationship with the world’s sexiest fireman, I’d be all over you like white on rice, cowboy.”
I laughed as Hank beat feet into the shower. “You’ve got freaky friends, Darlin’.”
“Believe me, I know.” I said loud enough for Oliver to hear. Hank’s hands came around my back and cupped my breasts, pinching the nipples between his fingers.
“Buddy, if you don’t want another show, I suggest you get movin’ on outta’ here,” Hank warned, his cock now erect and pressed against the seam of my ass.
A dark blur carrying something bright red rushed past. I heard the door snick shut a second later.
After a very productive shower— Hank liked to call it preserving water—I had my red suit on paired with a beige silk blouse and nude peep-toe slingbacks. Oliver had just put the final touches on a sleek chignon when Hank leaned against the vanity. His dark jeans hung low on his hips, a Dallas Cowboys t-shirt stretched tight against his broad chest. Yum.
“So, how long will you be gone today?” Hank asked, arms crossed over the other. He was still cradling the elbow on his wounded side, but it was barely perceptible. It was odd that he was asking how long I’d be. He’d never questioned when or how much I had to work before.
“I don’t know,” I countered honestly. “This model, Hank. She’s incredible. The most sought after in the business right now, but she’s young, dumb, makes terrible decisions, and needs help. She comes from a very broken family and has no one to help set her on the right path.”
“And that person has to be you?” His voice wasn’t judgmental or laced with anything other than curiosity.
“Maybe. Ultimately, I’m responsible for her completing the jobs I’ve contracted her for through AIR Bright Modeling Agency. If she’s overdosed on drugs, I need to assess whether she can finish the job she’s committed to this weekend or is off to rehab. Why?” I didn’t mean for my tone to take on an accusatory edge, but I’d never had to answer to anyone before and it threw me off my game.
“No reason.” He shrugged. “Hey, would you have a problem with me inviting some of the guys over for the game since you’ll be out?” Immediately the tension I was prepared for ebbed and went away. He was so adorable asking permission to have his friends over. It was unnecessary, he didn’t need my permission for anything, but I appreciated it.
“Are we done, Ollie?” He spritzed a few more times capturing any stray fly away hairs.
“Perfection. I’ll be in the kitchen grabbing your cappuccino for the road.”
“Thank you.” I waited for him to leave the room then I turned to Hank and put my arms around his waist. He curved those large arms around me, hugging me close. The t-shirt he wore was baby soft against my cheek as if it had been washed a million times. It probably had, for as much as Hank loved that football team. “Hank, you can have whomever you want over, whenever you want. For as long as you’re here, I want you to feel like this is your home.”
“I do feel at home, Angel. Wherever you are is where I want to be,” he said, his chin resting against the top of my head. I didn’t want to hope it meant for good and I didn’t dare ask.
“Okay then. I have to go. Enjoy your game.”
He walked me out into the kitchen; his mother was talking to Gustav. The tension was thick in the air. She wanted to make homemade pancakes, and Gustav had planned on making crepes. Oliver watched the two, completely fascinated as they argued. I tried to avoid making eye contact with Julia. Remembering how she saw Hank carrying me out of the study in my birthday suit last night sent a wave of heat across my face and neck. The skin of my neck probably matched the red of my suit.
; “Here you go, pretty girl.” Hank’s mother handed me a ball of wrapped up paper towels.
“What’s this?”
“Homemade blueberry muffins. I made them early this morning for you.” She smiled so bright it may have reached the edges of the sun. The woman was incredibly kind and unfazed at all by the happenings between Hank and me. Gustav scowled but kept quiet.
“Blueberry muffins are my favorite!” The muffin was still warm. I was baffled by her kindness.
“I know, I asked Hank yesterday during your nap what some of your favorite things were.” I looked over at Hank. He smiled shyly and looked down, then shuffled his feet.
“Hank, how did you know that blueberry muffins were my favorite? We haven’t had them together.”
“You mentioned it once when we walked past a bakery. Said you don’t have them much because you only liked fresh-baked ones. Ma makes the best in Texas.” He preened for his mother’s benefit. It was probably one of the nicest things a man had ever done for me.
The door rang out and I rushed over to answer it. Dean’s smiling face greeted me. “Your Cowboys are going down, man!” Dean smack-talked the second I opened the door.
He was wearing a New York Giants shirt, not a Jets shirt. His longish black hair was hanging loose around his face. He’d be an opposing fella if I didn’t know better. Another guy I recognized pulled in behind him. It was that lawyer friend of Aspen’s. My eyes narrowed at his presence but I tried not to let it get to me.
“The hell they aren’t. Your Jets are going to flap their girlie wings and fly away after my Cowboys hog tie their asses!”
“Hank, you said I could bring a friend. This is Nate Walker, he does all the legal work for Aspen and Oleander.” He always called Oliver by his pet name. I could relate. I rarely called my Angel by her God-given name.
“We’ve met.” I put out my hand to shake his hand.
“Yeah, Hank here thought I was putting the moves on his bird,” he joked and shook my hand. I squeezed it tight to remind him that I could take him out in a second if provoked.
