“You look like you should be walking alongside the president or something.”
“Actually, I did. A few times, during UN assemblies mostly.” He stops in front of me. “Back when I worked for the former mayor.”
My chin is in the vicinity of my toes. “No way! Why did you stop?”
Daws hesitates, as if uncomfortable. “Do you remember the attempt on the mayor’s life? During that awards ceremony at City Hall?” I nod slowly and he taps his shoulder. “The bullet ended up here instead. I had every intention of going back to work, but…”
“What?”
“Me getting shot scared my grandmother and her health is fragile, so…” He clears his throat. “I went into the bar business instead.”
“Oh,” I sigh dreamily, swaying toward him a little. “You quit for your grandma.”
He grunts, once again seeming uncomfortable with any kind of recognition. “You never told me how I did with the runway walk.”
“Oh! It was perfect! You’re going to put everyone to shame.”
He scoffs, but there’s a slight change in color to the tips of his ears. “I don’t know about that, Nebraska.”
“Could I kiss you?” I whisper. “Or would that be terrible?”
Daws does a double-take. “You want to kiss me?”
My laugh is halting but incredulous. “Why do you sound surprised?”
He just continues to stare at me, perplexed. “What would a sweet, beautiful, talented young girl like you want with an older, overweight, scarred up motherfucker like me?”
“I’d want to kiss him. I thought I made that clear.” I stomp my foot. “And don’t you dare talk about yourself as if…as if you’re not a big gorgeous beast with a huge heart and a generous spirit. You saved my life by helping me—”
“You’re grateful, is that it?” He steps closer, lifts his hand as if he wants to touch my face, but draws it back instead. “That’s why you’re offering to kiss me?”
“No! I want to kiss you because I think I’ll die if I don’t.”
Daws swoops close and lowers his head, pressing his hard mouth to mine and going still. Breathing hard, but not taking it any further. As if giving me a chance to change my mind. When I only whimper and tip my face up, he sinks our mouths together with a groan, his extra-large hands coming up to frame my hips through my coat. He kisses me like I’m made of porcelain at first, bringing his tongue to mine gently, licking, pulling the taste back into his mouth to savor it. Bury it like a bone. But I’m not easily breakable and I let him know it by going up on my toes, exploring the deepest recesses of his mouth with my tongue, molding my slight stomach against his hardy one, rubbing my breasts against it like a kitten, just picturing all that coarse, dark hair beneath his coat. How I would thread my fingers through it.
I realize there’s nothing to stop me.
With our kiss beginning to accelerate into something breathless and insatiable, I unbutton his coat and slide my palm up beneath his button-down, sobbing into his mouth when I feel the dense forest of his chest hair abrading my palm. God, it’s so masculine. So real. So hot.
Experimentally, I scrape my nails lightly over his nipple and he makes a hoarse, choppy sound, the steel of his erection lifting between us, thick and highly noticeable, even through both of our coats. Oh my God. Oh my God. I’ve just discovered this giant, insanely sexy man gets turned on by having his nipples played with. I’m pretty sure I’m going to masturbate thinking about that for the rest of my life. Unless…maybe I’ll get to keep the real thing? Maybe?
Please Baby Jesus?
“Parker,” he rasps, his mouth racing up the side of my neck, his hand tunneling through my hair. “How far do you need to take this game, pretty baby? You want me to tell you when I’m right about to come in my pants, so you can pull back? You want to keep me on the edge for a while?”
Game? “I-I don’t understand.”
“This game. Where you tease me. Make me think I might…” His breathing picks up, starts to rattle in his throat. “You let me think I might get to put my cock inside you, if I play my cards right. Even just the tip.” He groans through clenched teeth as if the very idea causes him acute pain. “I’ll play whatever game you need, just tell me how to make it best for you.”
He thinks I’m teasing him?
Where did that come from?
I’m not sure, but I’m starting to think Daws believes that I’m out of his league. Which is crazy, because I feel the exact opposite. And not only does he think I’m on some higher level, but he thinks I know it, too, and I’m using it against him.
It’s all so ludicrous, so shocking, I wouldn’t even begin to know how to deny it with words. Really, though. Who needs words when I can show him with my body instead?
Knowing what’s about to happen, my pulse slows in my veins like warm honey and the flesh between my thighs melts, grows moist and pliant. I wrap my arms around his neck and jump, tightening my thighs around his waist. I don’t want his coat in the way, so push it to the side and let it fall back into place, hiding my legs from view. Daws’s hands immediately fly to my butt, taking one cheek in each hand beneath my leather skirt, squeezing like he can’t help it.
“Daws?” I pout against his mouth. “I don’t want just the tip. I want it all.”
“Parker.” His fingers shake as he tucks them under the strap of my thong, trailing the tips up and down the valley of my backside. “Don’t be cruel to me.”
“I’m not.” I kiss his mouth slowly, letting the feeling building inside me for him come out. Putting need and affection and maybe even love into every stroke of my tongue, the shifting angles of my lips. “I think…I think I’ve been waiting for a real man to come along and make me a woman. You’re him. I know it. Don’t make me wait.”
“Christ, you mean it, don’t you?” He pulls back slightly to search my expression. “You’re going to let me pop your cherry.”
“Yes.” I grind against his bulge, making myself wetter. “Pop it for me, Daws.”
One of his hands leaves my bottom and starts to wrestle frantically with the fly of his jeans. “Thank you, God. Thank you.”
He’s breathing like a stallion after a race and maybe, just maybe, teasing is a hobby I should consider, because there is something intoxicating about how overwrought he is with hunger. How he’s so horny for me that he’s sweating, even in the February air.
I hear the zing of his zipper coming down and there it is. His fat, greedy meat is between my thighs, guided by his fist. “Goddammit, Parker. You shouldn’t be fucked like this your first time, but I’m not going to wait and risk you changing your mind.” My thong is yanked to the side and then he’s shoving himself inside my drenched sex, grunting and groaning, squeezing his wide, rigid manhood between my clenching virgin walls, pausing only when there’s a tear inside me and I gasp at the sharp jab of momentary discomfort.
“Hurts,” I sob, testing our connection with little circles of my hips, searching for a comfortable position. “You feel so huge. Like you’re ready to burst.”