Page 52 of Midnight Racers

A grin spread over my lips. “Isn’t this a coincidence because I want you, too.” My hands caressed down her sides to haul her hips closer to mine.

My phone pinged in my jeans pocket on the floor. I groaned. “Looks like dinner is here.”

She pressed a quick, hard kiss to my mouth and pushed herself to standing. “I’ll go wait for the delivery driver. You get the drinks.”

I stood up, pulling my jeans into place. “I’ll go grab the dinner. You can face the displeasure of Pixie.”

Charlotte stood on her tiptoes, her hand grabbing my waist. “She got you a blowjob.”

“And for that I’ll buy her prawns for dinner.” I backed her against the window. “I will be returning the favour later.”

She moaned when I pressed into her, my lips teasing hers.

The doorbell rang and I dragged myself away. This woman was an addiction that I craved more and more every day.

We watched random TV while eating our dinner with chopsticks, laughing and chatting together as if we’d known each other for years. It was a situation I hadn’t experienced before since my grandparents insisted on eating their meals at the dining room table after saying Grace. This felt real, with Charlotte feeding me parts of her meal and me returning the favour. Pixie turned up for the portion of prawns I ordered for her fried in butter.

That blowjob had been worth it.

Charlotte was curled around me in bed, sated after several orgasms, when I heard a noise outside on the gravel in her driveway. I’d always been a light sleeper, and my mind had been debating the Dale problem when I heard the first scuffle. I had put it down to the local fox population when I heard it again. My ears picked up and I slid out from under Charlotte.

She muttered and tried to crawl closer to my warmth. I tried to avoid waking her, but that attempt had failed miserably.

“What’s up?” The sheets fell down to reveal her perky breasts, her hair messed up as if she’d been fucked hard. She had, several used condoms were testament to that.

“I thought I heard something outside. No need to worry,” I said.

A window smashed at the back of the house and both of our heads turned in that direction. Charlotte dragged the sheets up to her chin.

“Get your clothes on,” I commanded, stabbing my legs into my jeans.

How the fuck was I in this situation with no weapon?

I needed to leave a gun here if I was staying in future. Since I had to improvise, I moved through the house with stealth, stopping along the way to grab the hockey stick from the hall cupboard that I’d seen a few days ago.

Whoever was stupid enough to break into my woman’s house was about to find that tonight was a beautiful night to die.

***

Chapter Eighteen

Charlotte

Who on earth would be at my home at this time of night? I dragged my clothes on and followed Flynn out the door, stopping at the top of the stairs to try and hear what was happening.

There was no noise, not even from Flynn. I chewed the side of my mouth and debated whether I should call out to Flynn. Maybe an owl or something had flown into the window?

One step at a time, I slowly tip-toed downstairs with the lights still off. I tended to leave a table lamp on in Pixie’s area since she didn’t like the dark. I stubbed my toe in the hall and grabbed hold of it while internalising my scream of pain. Why were toes so flaming sensitive?

I crept into the living room, trying to look around and see if anything was out of place. Shadows created by moonlight made me jump more than once before I left the room and continued toward the back of the house.

A crash sounded from the kitchen area and I pressed myself against the wall, my heart thudding in my ears. There was someone in my house. A person who had not been invited.

Pixie!

I moved swiftly toward the sound of the commotion, the faint light from the conservatory casting light into the kitchen. Flynn was dressed only in his jeans, fighting with a man dressed in black.

I skidded to a halt to watch what was happening. Part of me knew he was dangerous, part of me was more than aware that he was a feral animal in human skin. But the creature in my kitchen was more than I imagined. Flynn’s fist connected with the chest of the burglar, his foot coming up to hit the side of his head.

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