Page 57 of Surrender
My instinct is to press her about what’s going on that has her so crazed, but my mind is too cluttered to worry. Besides, letting her have control will soothe whatever is troubling her the same way giving it up will soothe what’s troubling me. So I do as I’m told, eager to erase all the bullshit that rests behind both of our eyes.
She stands before me in a grey bra and jeans—a much more casual look than I’ve ever seen her wear. Her chestnut hair is soft and wild around her shoulders as her chest rises and falls with deep breaths. The look she gives my entire body is a claiming, like she’s reminding herself of the property she owns. Technically, she really fucking does. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen her, and I’d do just about anything she demands of me right now.
She steps forward and presses her hands to my bare abs. “I want you to fuck me against this wall. Hard, fast, and dirty. Understand?”
“Yes,” I pant, my dick already hard in my jeans.
She looks down. “Get that dick out of those jeans. Now.”
I do as I’m told. Jesus fuck, I love doing as I’m told.
She ditches her own, along with her bra and knickers. Fuck me, she’s stunning. Wild and angry about something, like a beast that can’t be tamed.
She steps forward and fists me in her hand, squeezing so hard I’m wincing in pleasured pain. “God, you have a sexy cock,” she husks, letting her hard nipples brush against my chest when she adds, “Do you have a condom down here?”
My face falls. “Fuck. No. I can run upstairs.” I move for the stairs, but I freeze because she’s holding my cock hostage.
“When was the last time you were checked?” she asks with a serious look on her face.
I swallow slowly, my body jerking as she strokes the tip of my bare dick along the top of her smooth pussy. Some pre-come seeps out of me and coats her skin. “The team gets physicals at the beginning of every season.”
“What does that mean? When’s the beginning of the season?”
“Two months ago,” I bark out quickly as she presses the head of my dick between her folds. “Jesus Christ, you’re already wet.”
“Damn right,” she replies, clearing her throat and clearly struggling as hard as I am to stay in control. “Have you slept with anyone since then?”
I look away and reply, “No.”
“Gareth.” She says my name like a warning. “I have an IUD in and was tested at an appointment this past week, so I know I’m clean. But if you’re lying to me—”
“I’m not lying,” I snap, my eyes fierce on hers now that she’s questioning my honesty.
“Then why wouldn’t you make eye contact with me? I’m just asking when the last time you had sex with someone else was. I’m considering something very serious here.”
“I haven’t shagged anyone since you last year,” I growl, annoyance ticking my jaw from that admission. It says a lot about me that I’m not interested in sharing, so I really don’t want to be given the third-degree about this.
“Okay,” she replies softly and looks down with a frown as that fact sinks in. She looks up again. “Wait…No one? Are you serious?”
I exhale heavily, rueful resignation overtaking my earlier annoyance. “No one, Tre. I’m telling you the truth.”
Her eyes light up with renewed excitement from this admission. “Okay, then. Are you all right with not using condoms? Because I trust you if you trust me.”
“I trust you,” I reply seriously and hope the twinkle in my eyes isn’t visible to her. Fuck me, just the idea of pushing into her bare is going to have me coming so damn fast.
“Then pick me up and slam that big cock into me until I’m screaming for mercy.”
“Yes, Treacle,” I growl and follow orders like it’s my fucking job.
By the time we stride into my kitchen, we’re both cleaned up, halfway dressed, and feeling a hell of a lot calmer than we were twenty minutes ago.
Sloan glances over at the mess around my stove. “Oh, I interrupted your dinner,” she states, clearly not sorry as she eyes me in my jeans and nothing else.
“It’s fine.” I shake my head and fuss with the pasta as I try to remember where I left off. “I wasn’t expecting you for a couple of hours.”
I put the pan of water on the burner and click the flame to high. Then I turn on the back burner where I left the pasta sauce sitting earlier.
Sloan is watching me curiously. “You look so domestic. I never would have imagined you cook for yourself.”
