Page 9 of Taking Denver

“Or my actual name,” I suggest. “I’m Ethan, by the way.”

“I’d prefer to call you Big Dick.”

I back her against the patio window, my hands on either side of her head. “Me too.”

The gray of her eyes is closer to tarnished silver as she shifts her gaze to my crotch. She tilts her head.

“Huh. Maybe the light in the gym was an optical illusion.”

I laugh. “You really don’t want to admit you want to kiss me, do you?”

“Or maybe I just don’t want to kiss you,” she says, ducking under my arm and moving away from me. “You’re not that great.”

“Got you wet.”

“So does a well-placed shower head,” she says, throwing a smile over her shoulder and heading inside.

I’m desperate to follow her because, as annoying as she is, she captivates me. I stand in the open doorway, and she crosses her arms, shifting her weight onto one hip, smirking.

“Dying to come in?” she purrs.

“Only because I like the dog.”

She considers me for a moment, then closes the gap between us. Each step feels calculated, like she has a plan of attack she’s dying to execute, and I’m a willing sacrifice. She tucks her finger into the waistband of my underwear, and my throat dries. Blood rushes to my cock, and I’m rock hard almost instantly, my dick straining against my black boxers.

“Not an optical illusion,” she whispers, pushing herself onto her tiptoes and running her tongue across her bottom lip. “That’s a relief.”

Fuck.

I seize the back of her neck and kiss her. Denver presses herself into me, and I can only hope I last a hell of a lot longer than the first time.

I pick her up and walk us further into her room, lying her on the couch. She smells like cocoa butter and tastes sweet, and her lips stay fixed to mine in a permanent, passionate kiss.

She sits up, pushing me into a sitting position so she can straddle me. Her dress gathers at her hips, and she grinds against my hardness, the heat of her core rubbing against my cock, and a moan spills from my lips. Jesus, I’m close to letting this woman do whatever the fuck she wants to me as long as she never stops.

“I need you to fuck me like you did this morning,” she says, and small whimper leaving her throat as she rubs her clit against me.

Fuck. No arguments here.

Her mouth is soft as she kisses across my chest and lower. She pushes my knees apart, sitting between them, licking her lips as she grips my underwear to tug it down. And for some ungodly, stupid, moronic reason, a question springs from my lips. “Is Luxe your married name?”

She goes so still that I think I might have somehow paused the moment until she speaks. “No. Why?”

“So, did your parents call you Denver on purpose?”

Shut up, Ethan. Shut your mouth and let the beautiful woman suck your dick.

She sits up. “What?”

“Denver Luxe. D Luxe. Deluxe,” I say. “I wondered if it was something they did on purpose.”

The atmosphere chills. The silver in her eyes becomes hardened stone, and darkness flashes through her, making me fear she might bite down on what she had been about to taste.

Her phone lights up on the coffee table, vibrating across the wood as the screen flashes with a call. She ignores it.

“You know what,Ethan?” She stands. Her phone keeps ringing, puncturing the awkward atmosphere as I realize this woman is about to chew me out. She growls, swipes the device off the table, and answers. “What?”

The beautiful flush on her face fades. Her eyes widen.

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