“Yeah. I’m f**king serious.” I push away from the wall and head for the door. When I look over at Hemy, he’s standing there with his f**king hard dick swinging everywhere. We don’t usually get fully nude, but on occasion if no one else is paying much attention, we end up baring it all. He does it the most. He has the bad ass biker look down so when women see him stripping, they go crazy over it. Shit, one of the girls is practically sucking his dick right now. They seem to love the hard steel of his piercings almost as much as his dick itself.
Heading back over to the bar, I take a seat in front of Cale and grip the bar. I really need to get my shit together. “Three shots of Jack,” I say stiffly. “Actually, make it four.”
Cale reaches for the shot glasses and lines them up in front of me. “I’m guessing I’ll be giving you a ride home.”
“Yeah. Your guess is f**king right.”
Yeah, and as soon as I get home, I’ll be taking a f**king shower to wash this day away.
“So what is Aspen doing then? She didn’t want to come hang out here?” He looks up from pouring the shots. “She doesn’t get pissed off easily. It must be a Slade thing.”
Not really caring to hear what he has to say, I grab the first shot and slam it back before wiping my mouth off with my arm. “How do you know this chick anyways? She’s not even from around here.”
Now it looks like he’s battling a demon of his own. I know that look well. I wear it with pride. “I was best friends with her sister, Riley, growing up. Riley Raines. They used to live here back when we were all kids.”
Okay. I’ve heard him mention that name before. I can’t remember for shit why, though. There must be something about these sisters that make a man go f**king nuts.
Aspen f**king Raines. What a sexy name.
Chapter Eight
Aspen
Stupid, piece of crap, no good vibrator . . .
I toss what I thought was my handy dandy vibrator down beside me and roll over on my stomach, shoving my face into the pillow. I’m so frustrated, I could scream. This cannot be happening. Gripping the plush pillow, I smother my face deeper and curse my damn vagina.
Is it broken? Seriously. I mean my vagina. Not the vibrator. The vibrator definitely had some kicking power left in it. I think that cocky, sexy, ass**le broke it. Obviously, my vagina has decided it wants the best and has gone on strike until it gets it. I’ve never had this problem before him. Why now?
Rolling back over, I sit up and grab my panties, pulling them on with a sigh. A very frustrated sigh. After the orgasm I had yesterday, I’m ruined. No other orgasm I’ll ever have will compare to it and it makes me so angry. It seems I’ve lost the control over my vagina. I’ve spent the last hour just trying to have a small orgasm; any orgasm and nothing. Trust me, I’ve tried both ways and what were the results? Nada . . . it’s completely numb now.
It’s definitely time to throw in the towel. It’s not happening. Maybe I just need to make some breakfast, relax and try again later. I think I just have too much on my mind.
Yeah. That’s it. I’m just mentally frustrated.
I stand from the messy confinements of the bed and grab my t-shirt from the wad of clothes on the floor, pulling it on. Exiting the room, I walk past Cale snoring on the couch and dodge my way into the kitchen. The boys didn’t get in until at least two a.m. There’s no way they will be waking up anytime soon. I’m surprised that I’m even up to be honest. I didn’t sleep for crap. It was an endless night and a part of me wants to just crawl back in bed and force myself to sleep.
One minute I was checking my phone and the next minute I was checking the driveway. Not sure why I cared so much about when they were getting back but it seemed to drive me nuts. I haven’t even gotten to spend any time with Cale and I’ve been here for three days. So far Slade has been my only real entertainment.
Lucky me . . .
My stomach starts growling as I begin to search through the fridge for something to cook for breakfast. Digging through the contents, I end up with a roll of sausage, a pack of bacon and some bagels. My mouth is practically watering just anticipating the taste. At least there’s something in this house to look forward to.
Half way through cooking, everything starts to go horribly wrong. If I thought I was flustered before, this just confirms it. The bacon is popping grease everywhere and the stupid sausage is stuck to the bottom of the pan. The whole kitchen is full of smoke. It would be really embarrassing if the smoke detector went off right now. It’s pathetic. I just can’t seem to concentrate. . .on anything.
“Ow, damn!” I jump back when I get popped with bacon grease again. That shit really hurts.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I turn around to the sound of Slade’s deep, raspy voice. He’s standing there shirtless in a pair of low hanging jeans, showing off the muscles right above his . . . penis. His body is slightly damp as if he’s just taken a shower, but I know he hasn’t. I would’ve heard the water . . . I think. What is it about a wet man that is so sexy?
His eyes are dark and intense; looking at me as if he wants to either strangle me or just f**k me really hard. I can’t really tell. I get a rush of excitement from both. That’s really f**king messed up.
Clearing my throat, I turn back around and start scraping the sausage off the bottom of the pan as if it’s not a big deal. I just pretend I didn’t mess breakfast all up. The last thing I want to do is see him standing there half naked, looking disturbingly delicious while judging my cooking skills. He looks tastier than this damn food. That’s not what I need right now. “What does it look like I’m doing?” I ask, not bothering to hide my irritation.
When he speaks again his voice is right behind me, sending chills up my spine. His body is now pressed against mine, but not in a sexual way; in a way that makes my heart jump a little. Just a little. “Burning down the damn house. I hate to tell you this, but I left my fireman suit at work. I’m not prepared for this shit this early in the morning.” He reaches for the spatula and hisses in my ear. “Now move out of the way.”
Not budging, I reach for the spatula but he pulls it out of my reach. “I can handle it. Shouldn’t you be sleeping or I don’t know . . . kicking some skank out of your bed. I’m pretty sure you had a late night.”
Giving me a stern look, he grabs me by the hips, picks me up and sets me on the counter. His lips are brushing my ear when he says, “I kicked her out last night. No girl sleeps in my bed. Ever.” My heart sinks from his harsh words. He turns around and turns off the stove before throwing the spatula down. “If you needed my help then you should have asked. Is there anything you can do on your own?”