Page 18 of Yearn

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I should have spoken.

Should have apologized, lied, begged.

But there was nothing happening in my thoughts but cock and need and the certainty that if I took one more step, I would have her bent over this threshold, garbage bag forgotten, skirt up, panties torn, and my cock buried deep in her pussy, whether she wanted it or not.

The thought was fire.

My hand shook around the shaft.

My sanity trembled with it.

Fuck. Go. Now!!

I shoved my cock back into my pants, not because I wanted to, but because the only mercy left in me was distance. My chest heaved, my pulse thundered, my body was a war between devotion and desecration.

Then I turned and walked away, every step a chain wrapped tight around violent hunger.

Not fear.

Not weakness.

Restraint—razor-sharp, barely held.

Because when I finally had her, it would not be in the shadows of her kitchen doorway. It would be where there was no chance of us stopping.

Goddamn it. Now what will happen?

Chapter three

My Porn Star Tenant

Teyonah

Lord, I just saw my tenant stroking himself like he was auditioning for Pornhub.

I stood in the doorway with the garbage bag still in my hand and the porch light painting everything too bright to pass for a dream.

Did that really just happen?

The trash bag sagged against my thigh.

I had to blink, once, twice, but the picture didn’t go away.

Lord, if my body didn’t just light up like a damn Christmas tree over my tenant’s cock. . .

I was wet already, shamefully wet, from nothing but the sight of Dominic losing control.

My heart pounded hard enough to shake my earrings.

I rushed down the steps.

My slippers thudded against the stone path.

I got to the side of the house, yanked the bin open with one sharp tug, and dropped the trash in.

And. . .damn his cock was big. . .huge. . .like. . .what are you doing with all of that, Dominic?

The lid slammed.

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