Well . . . this is embarrassing. I have never been one to let another person’s wealth intimidate me, but this is slightly hard to stomach. His house is large and you can tell it’s worth more than I probably can make in a lifetime. Anytime you need to drive through a guarded gate to get to your house, you know it isn’t the ghetto. Now, I live in the ghetto.
I can hear my car clanking and sputtering as I stop next to his truck. He leans against the driver’s door spinning his keys around his finger. He might look cocky to some, but to me, he looks fucking edible.
He has pulled his tie off and unbuttoned the first few buttons. His jacket is gone and he has rolled up his sleeves, revealing his strong arms. With each flick of his wrist that sends the keys spinning, you can see each and every muscle in his forearm flex. And don’t even get me started on his long, nimble fingers. I have to clench my thighs together just watching them work his keys.
We stand there, with only my car standing in between us, just taking it all in. I am still trying to figure out how the hell I went from promising myself I wouldn’t get tangled up with this man, to seconds away from jumping on and saying yee-haw.
“Come here, Melissa.”
“No,” I respond. Why I thought it was a brilliant idea to poke the bear is beyond me, but there is something thrilling about watching him walk the line of losing control.
His keys stop spinning in a second. “Babe, come here.”
“Make me.”
Looking back, I might be able to see how it wasn’t the wisest idea of mine to try and make him snap, but I have a feeling a man like Greg Cage needs a little challenge every now and then.
“Melissa.”
“Greg.”
He moves so swiftly that he is nothing but a white flash in the darkness. Before I know it, his shoulder meets my belly, and I am being carried into the house. His hand against my ass sends shocks of desire up my spine. I can feel my pussy tighten with awareness, like even that bitch knows how close he is to her.
I push off his waist, trying to take in the house as he barrels up the stairs. Even with his quick and rushed movements, he is careful not to jar me on his shoulder. Deciding for some unknown reason that it would be fun to further test his control, I bring my hands from his belt, and take each of his firm cheeks and squeeze. Damn his ass is hard as a rock. His growl fills the silence that had only before held the heavy breathing of this insane man.
“Watch it, Melissa, you’re playing with fire.”
“Always did like it hot,” I groan, bringing one of my hands up and slapping his ass. Hard. My palm tingles and sharp stabbing pain shoots up my wrist. Fuck! I think his ass just broke my hand!
He stops dead mid-step into what I can only assume is his room. I don’t even think he is breathing. Statue still and vibrating with unleashed tension.
Uh oh.
Slowly, oh so freaking slowly, he begins dropping my feet to the floor. His face is unreadable, but he can’t mask the heat in his eyes. Burning. Every inch of my skin his eyes cross over feels like it has been physically touched.
I bring my arms up and start unbuttoning his shirt. He just stands there and lets me. It takes me a second, but around button two point five, I realize his silence is nothing more than his trying to regain the control that is slipping away. No way, not having that. Grabbing both sides of his half-undone shirt, I give a hard yank, sending buttons flying around me. He lets out low rumbles deep in his throat, and his hands clench.
Running my hands from his rock hard pecs down to his abs earns me another throaty growl. When I palm his dick through his pants, his eye twitches and he sways slightly. Leaning forward, I swirl my tongue around his nipple and give a solid squeeze to his generous bulge. When I bite down on his nipple lightly, his groan turns into a fierce roar, I step back hastily, almost knocking my ass to the ground when I trip over the rug.
His hands shoot out and grab my hips to help steady my legs. “Get naked. Now,” he finally pants, once he makes sure my footing is solid.
He steps back and drops his ass into a chair that I didn’t even notice was there. Looking around the room, I take in the masculine warmth. All the furniture is dark wood, and cream colors the walls. Very earthy. My red dress stands out against all the muted tones. I look back over to where he is lounging and take in his arrogantly lifted brow. He doesn’t think I’ll do it. Stupid man.
Turning on my heel and presenting my backside to him my back, I reach up and slowly draw the zipper down the length of my back. Luckily, it isn’t so high up that I need to ask for his help. I take my time, feeling the teeth unhook one at a time with the measured glide of the zipper. When it catches at the bottom, I look over my shoulder again and watch as he brings his hand to his belt.
Well, that is fucking hot.