Page 34 of 12 Months of Mayhem

Hellcat meets my gaze, her eyes gleaming with amusement before she reaches for the waistband of her leather pants. Slowly, deliberately, she undoes them, the soft sound of the zipper cutting through the quiet. Her fingers tug the material down her hips just enough, teasing, before she switches her attention to her top. She grabs the hem and pulls it over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it aside.

She stands there, barefoot now, in just her bra and those leather pants that are hanging low on her hips, her eyes locked on mine. The air between us thickens, charged with the kind of sexual tension that can snap at any moment. And damn, if I’m not ready for it to break.

Hellcat. Yeah, the name fits—fierce, untamed, and in control.

The smirk fades from her lips, replaced by a sudden seriousness as she looks down at herself and then back at me. “Small problem,” she says, a hint of mischief still lingers in her voice.

“Hmm?” I reply, feigning ignorance, but I can already feel the anticipation building.

“These things are skintight. I can’t get them off without help.”

A chuckle escapes me as I stand up, the playful challenge in her eyes igniting something primal inside me. “Come here.”

With a grin that’s all confidence, she strides toward me, placing her hands on my chest. The warmth of her touch sends a jolt through me. My fingertips find the sides of her leather pants, feeling the cool material against my skin. I can’t help but admire how she fits into them—every curve and line accentuated.

I grab the sides of her pants and peel them down over her ass. The best way I can describe what comes next is that it takes more than a little effort, but every inch feels electric. As the leather finally slips past her curves, I’m acutely aware of how close we are, the heat radiating between us, the world outside fading away.

“Sit,” I order, my voice steady but low.

Without hesitation, Hellcat obeys, sinking onto the bench with a playful glint in her eyes. I finish pulling off her pants, tossing them aside, and watch as she stretches her legs, a satisfied grin spreading across her face.

“Damn, that feels so much better,” she admits, her voice tinged with relief and a hint of delight.

I can’t help but chuckle at her reaction and how her body seems to relax now that the restrictive leather is gone. She looks up at me, her expression a mix of mischief and comfort as if we’ve crossed into some uncharted territory. The air between us is charged, thick with possibilities, and I can feel the unspoken connection deepening.

My hellcat is sitting in front of me with nothing but the smallest black G-string I’ve ever seen and a lacy black bra. She stands, and her hands go to my belt buckle. I try to kiss her, but she avoids me as she pulls off my belt, then undoes my button and zipper. Tilting my head to the side, I try to kiss her, and again she avoids me. So I take a step back, peel off my cut, hang it on the hook on the back of the door, and then take off my black T-shirt. She chews on her bottom lip and smiles at me, so I sit, take off my boots, then stand and let my jeans fall to the floor. Unlike her, I’m not wearing any underwear, and my cock is standing at attention, waiting for her to do something. Hell, anything.

She stands, hooks her thumbs over the sides of her G-string, pulls it down her legs, and then steps out of the flimsy material. Next, she undoes her bra and lets it drop to the floor. I suck in a breath—she’s beautiful. Her breasts are round and firm, with smooth skin and a slight bounce as she moves past me to turn on the shower. Her nipples are perfectly shaped, standing at attention with a rosy hue and small raised bumps.

With a groan, I join her under the running water, my mouth capturing one of her nipples as I suck and flick my tongue across it. She lets out a moan and drags my mouth up to hers as one leg drapes around my waist. The kiss tastes like Jack Daniels, and I want to devour this woman.

Suddenly, she leans back and shakes her head. “Let’s slow down.”

“Not really in my vocabulary.”

My hellcat grins. “At least let me wash up. After all, you told me I stink.”

Laughing, I kiss her lips. “I didn’t mean it.”

Her leg drops to the floor, and she pushes me back. “Yeah, you did. Wanna soap me up?”

Hellcat moves around me, reaches back into her little bag, and pulls out a liquid soap bottle. She squirts the fruity-smelling cleanser into her hands and tosses it to me. Rubbing her hands together, she puts them over her breasts, then under her arms and down her sides toward her cleanly shaved pussy.

“You can close your mouth, Whiskey.”

I snap my mouth shut and chuckle. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me, don’t you?”

Her gaze goes to my cock. “Oh yeah.”

Well, two can play that game. I squeeze the fruity liquid into my hands, then run my hands from my chest down to my cock, where I pump it twice as I stare into her green eyes.

Hellcat bites her bottom lip and moves toward me. “Do you need help with that?”

Her hand covers mine, and I growl as she strokes me. Lowering my head, I pepper kisses from her ear to her collarbone.

“How are we going to do this?”

Raising my hand, I tug on the showerhead a couple of times. “Think you can hang on?”

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