On The Rocks

Flames leap out of her eyes, I kid you not, and she takes a step in closer, while jabbing me in the chest with her finger. “Just cut it out, Hunter. I know you think this banter is funny but it’s not. It’s really pissing me off. I’m trying to do a job here, and you’re not making it—”

I’ve had enough—enough of her rancor and PMSing or whatever the fuck her problem is. Brody said she likes me, and I’m going to see if he’s as smart as I think he might be.

Grabbing her shoulders, I pull her in hard to me so her breasts mash into my chest. She lets out a tiny gasp, her hazel eyes going wide, and her lips full and slightly open. It’s the only invitation I need before I bring mouth down on hers… fast and hard.

I unleash all the pent-up frustration I have toward her cranky behavior into her mouth, slamming my tongue up against hers, scraping my own bottom lip against her teeth. The pleasure-pain is exquisite, and I groan at the first contact.

She’s stiff… just for a second, her hands hanging loosely at her side. I let it cross my mind briefly that I could be making a very big mistake, that this could be bordering on assault, but then her arms come up and she clutches my hips with her fingertips.

That spurs me on, and I tilt my head, angling for a deeper contact. She responds tenfold, sliding a sexy whimper into my mouth, and I feel myself starting to grow painfully hard.

All from a fucking kiss.

A kiss that is just like five years ago, yet so very different. Then she was forbidden, young, innocent. It was shocking and altering, two things that fueled my lust.

Now, it’s a desire that’s fueled by years of wondering, fantasizing, and maybe even a bit of regret. It’s also a flame that has recently been fanned by anger, and let’s face it… there’s nothing hotter than being in the middle of an argument and releasing that emotion through the sexual channels.

My heart is slamming inside my chest, and my dick is aching. I want to do nothing more than take Gabby, lay her across the pool table, and fuck the meanness out of her. I want to sink myself in her warmth, make her body mine, and when it’s done, have her look at me with something other than disdain.

But now is not the time, and it’s certainly not the place. When I take her—and I will—it’s going to be somewhere private so I can do things that might border on depraved… but will certainly wipe that smug look off her face. Just the thought has me smiling against her lips.

I bring one hand up and cup the back of her head, pushing her mouth harder against mine for just a second, taking a last swipe at her with my tongue. Then I pull back, gripping onto her hair to hold her in place.

I stare at her intently, watching her eyes, which are clouded with lust and longing. Without the power of the kiss driving us, her gaze starts to clear, and I enjoy the myriad of emotion that filters through. Desire is replaced by confusion, which is then replaced by anger.

She pushes back against my body, her hands still at my hips, but I hold tight to her hair and I don’t budge an inch.

“What the hell was that for?” she seethes.

I give her a calculated smirk, running my eyes over her face and leaning down to nip at her lower lip with my teeth. She shivers in my arms and I internally gloat, because while she acts like she’s mad, she wants me. There’s no denying it.

Pulling back slightly, I rub my nose against hers, and then say, “It was the only way to get you to shut up.”

She looks at me blankly for a moment, and then it sinks in what I just said to her. She practically screeches as she rips away from my embrace, and I quickly release my hold on her hair so she doesn’t tear a chunk of it out. Stepping back a foot, her eyes do a slow burn and her hand comes up to wipe it across her lips. It’s a calculated move… to show me that the kiss disgusted her, but she’s not fooling me. I invented that move, used it on her five years ago in fact. I know all about masking my true feelings.