Page 72 of Bazooka
I slammed my lips onto his because fuck him. Then he kissed me back, and at that point, things went out of hand. I could remember our mouths devouring each other. His tongue, tangling with mine. His hands, grabbing my ass and lifting me until I hooked my legs around his waist. He held me pinned to the wall as I slid my hands into his hair and pulled… hard. He hissed and bit my neck. His beard was doing a number on my skin, but it was a sweet pain. When I started to fumble with the buttons on his shirt, he lowered me to the floor so he could help me take it off. I left a hickey on his neck, marking him on purpose and stopping only to raise my arms so he could take off my T-shirt. When he pressed his hard dick against mine, I almost blacked out. He groaned, damn near fucking me into a wall, as I tried to unbuckle his belt with trembling hands.
Stumbling across the hall, we ended up in the bedroom. Once there, he threw me on the bed and crawled between my widespread legs. He kissed me hard, and his teeth sank into my bottom lip before his body covered mine, and I found myself in heaven.
While I could still think, I broke the kiss, panting.
“Wait. Lube.”
I rolled over onto my stomach and extended my hand to open the nightstand drawer. I felt lube under my fingers when Baz pulled my pants down my hips. I squeaked in shock when he bit my bare ass, growling, “I’m going to fuck you so hard.”
Jesus. Christ.
I turned on my back and tossed lube at him, hyperventilating.
“Get inside me, Baz. Hurry.”
He caught it with one hand while rubbing his hard dick over his pants.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered, staring at my erection that bobbed on my belly, when the doorbell rang.
I blinked in disbelief.
“No,” I said breathlessly. “Don’t even think about answering that door.”
Oh, but he was thinking about it. No, he’d already decided. He tossed me the lube and scrambled out of bed, while I… I wanted to rip my hair out. I wanted to destroy the fucking room. I wanted to kill the… okay, whoever rang that doorbell was a dead man.
I jumped out of bed and marched into the hall, only to see Jordan standing in theroom.
“You!” I hissed, stomping toward him. “You are fucking dead.”
His eyes widened in shock, while I clenched my fists, ready to gouge his eyes out with a spoon. I was about to punch him when Bazooka grabbed me by the waist.
“Jordan, run!” he said over his shoulder. “Go! Wait for me in the car.”
I kicked and screamed, trying to free myself, but he was too strong. Once in the bedroom, he threw me on the bed and pointed a finger at me in warning.
“Behave.”
Behave? I was enraged.
When he left the room, I followed him, only to see him putting on his shirt.
“What’s going on?” I said, unable to unglue my eyes from his bare chest.
“I’m needed at work. We’ll talk about this later. Don’t leave the apartment without me by your side.” He gave me a stern look. “Swear it.”
“I swear,” I said, trying to think of something that would make him stay.
He headed to the front door when I grabbed him by the arm and made him look at me.
“You don’t get to leave for the second time today without saying a proper goodbye,” I bit out. “Try to do that again, and I’ll shoot you with your own gun.”
Then, an unexpected thing happened. He burst into laughter, took my chin in his hand, and kissed my mouth. Hard.
“There,” he said, while I was still recovering. “Is that better, angry kitten?”
“Yes,” I squeaked.
And then he was gone.
