Page 33 of Forecheck
“I’ll…I’ll spank you.”
The words surprised both of us, and I fully expected her to tear herself free of my grasp, storm deeper into her apartment, and tell me to fuck off.
Instead, she arched a perfect, dark blonde brow. “Oh, really?”
The words were a caress to my entire body, and the situation in my pants grew more dire the longer we spent alone, wrapped up in each other like this, sharing these intimate thoughts. This playfulness from her was unexpected, but a good sign. A sign so good that it gave me all kinds of ideas.
She brushed past me and grabbed her jacket from the closet door, holding it out for me to help her into it.
As expected, her ass was pert and round, the fabric of her dress stretching distractingly across it. Fuck, I wanted to sink my teeth into it.
Shaking my head, I leaned close as she shrugged on the wool dress coat, giving her a little nip on her earlobe. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Blondie.”
Berkley offered me a serene smile, as though she was entirely unaffected by this conversation while my skin tightened with desire.
“I wouldn’t dare,Beej,” she quipped, dishing a nickname right back at me, moving ahead to open the door and step into the hall. Dumbstruck, I only stared at her, blinking furiously.
What the fuck just happened?
“You coming?”
With a dark chuckle, I took a moment to adjust myself in my pants, making her fully aware of what she’d done to me.
“Maybe later,” I said with a wink, and followed her into the night.
“Well, well, well,” Mitch said when we strolled into the gala at last. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
“I never understood that statement,” Berkley said. “Cats only drag in gross things like dead mice. I don’t know about you, but we look nothing like dead mice.”
Mitch tipped his head back and barked out a laugh. Berkley only shrugged, and I couldn’t help but grin at her.
“I’ll admit, you do clean up nice,” Mitch said when he regained his composure. “You, too, Berkley.” Mitch winked.
Now it was my turn to laugh. “You’re such a weirdo.”
“I’m just saying. You’re the definition of a pretty boy, Jean.”
“I am not,” I said, scowling at my best friend. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“I don’t know…” Berkley trailed off, studying me so intently that my skin once again tightened.
Think of unsexy things, Jean. Granny panties. Men dying in warehouse fires. The state of United States healthcare.
Thankfully, sheer force of will had my dick staying down.
“You are awfully pretty,” Berkley continued. “Maybe even prettier than me.”
“Berkley…” I warned.
Unfazed, she said, “What?”
Lowering my voice, I said, “What did I tell you about self-deprecation?”
“I remember you telling me not to start something I couldn’t finish,” she said as she plucked two flutes of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. “And what was it you said you’d do to me? Oh yes…spank me.”
“I…don’t need to be here for this,” Mitch said before turning tail and bolting for a group of our teammates across the room. I didn’t pay him any mind; all of my attention was on the tiny blonde before me.
I looped my fingers around her wrist and tugged her into my body. Though I’d fought valiantly, my cock had won out, and when I pulled Berkley close, the thick length of it pressed into her stomach, the pressure so damn perfect that I released a low groan.
