Indulgence (45 page)

“Yes, I feel it … Oh, Hank, I feel it.” I screamed as he
jackhammered me. He hooked my legs around his waist and pulled me up to him.
Face-to-face, his lips devoured mine in a brutal kiss. His tongue entered and
receded, simulating what our bodies were doing down below.

He sat down in the desk chair and his cock jutted higher into
me, going impossibly deep. I could hardly breathe. He rubbed our noses together
and kissed me softly. “Feel me, Angel?”

I nodded.

“This is real … don’t ever doubt that.” I nodded again. “Now
ride me.” His voice cracked with the effort to speak. He was finally losing
control. It made me hungry for him. Powerful.

I clasped my hands behind his neck and twisted my fingers in
his dark hair. It was slick with sweat. I kissed him, tugged on his bottom lip
with my teeth, then soothed it better with my tongue. “I’m sorry … there has
never been anything more real in my life,” I whispered against his lips. “Only
you.” I punctuated my words by lifting up, using the leverage of my feet and
what strength I had left to slide up and down his length.

Then, I rode my man like I was an award-winning horse
jockey. His hands held my hips and thrust up into me on the down stroke. His
hips would tilt up, his body arching to me. It was the sexist damn thing I’d
ever seen. We set a perfect rhythm until both of us were clawing at the other,
nails puncturing in little crescents against moist skin as we screamed out our
combined release.

“Only you,” Hank whispered into my ear as I lay in a heap on
top of him, legs and arms dangling. A handful of orgasms would do that to any
woman. His hands soothed up and down my back until I lost track of what was
happening, too sated to do anything other than snooze against his warm, bare
chest. His heart beat slowing provided the perfect music to lull me. He stood
up with me still wrapped around him, our bodies forever connected. He exited
the study. I was half-asleep, both of us completely naked as he headed toward
our
room.

“’Night, Ma,” I heard him say. I didn’t have the energy to
worry about what this looked like.

“Oh my, son!” she said with a laugh. “I’ve covered my eyes,
Aspen! Jeez Son, you could have warned me. You’re going to make me miss my
Henry something awful seein’ you two like that.”

“We worked it out,” he said continuing to walk to our room.
Instead of being mortified I just accepted it. Hank did what Hank wanted. If he
chose to walk us both naked from room to room, that was his prerogative. At
least she’d only seen our asses since our fronts were plastered together.
Hopefully she wouldn’t judge me too harshly in the morning.

“So you did. Well then, goodnight.”

I woke up the next morning to something wet licking my hand
and something poking my shoulder. I opened one eye to find Butch lapping
happily at my hand that hung off the bed making it nice and slobbery. Oliver
was the culprit poking my shoulder.

“Ollie, its Sunday. What the hell are you doing here?” I sat
up and the blankets pooled at my waist. Oliver covered his eyes and it took me
a moment to realize what he was doing.

“It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before. Hell,
you’ve probably seen me naked more than Hank. A lot more than Hank.”

That got Hank’s attention. He sat up, his bed hair spiked
all over the place. Oliver did not hide his eyes when Hank’s naked chest came
into view. Couldn’t blame him there, the man was a remarkable sight.

“Lucky bitch.” Ollie tsk-tsked and ogled Hank openly.

“True.” I grinned. “What do you want? Why are you waking me
up on a Sunday?” I asked as Hank tugged me to lean back against him and pulled
the blanket up to my neck. He did not like another man seeing me naked. Made me
feel special, coveted.

“This better be good, Buddy.” Hank kissed my bare shoulder.

“It’s work, Pen. We’ve got a rogue model. This time I think
she’s overdosed. She’s supposed to be at the shoot in Times Square right now.”

I flung out of bed stark naked jumping over Butch who then
jumped up on the bed. Hank groaned.

Ollie sat on the bed petting the dog as I jetted into the
bathroom to take a quick shower.

I could hear laughing, then Oliver entered the bathroom
heading to the walk-in closet. Hank was hot on his heels.

“Jesus, Oliver. I’m going to tear into you if you don’t stop
looking at my girl.” Oliver just continued through the bathroom to the closet
to choose my outfit.

“Hank, when are you going to learn that I have no interest
in your girl’s boobies or anything else?” Hank stood naked as a Jaybird and
stomped his foot. “You on the other hand … ” Ollie looked at Hank in all his
glory.

Cock hung down thick and heavy along his thigh, tight dark
hair nestled at the groin. Sculpted abs and chest. It took everything I had not
to trail my hands down to my center to rub one out while watching him, angry
and flustered, standing just outside the shower stall’s glass door. The man was
just too good to look at.

Ollie continued to openly stare at my man. “Damn, Hank. If I
wasn’t in a committed relationship with the world’s sexiest fireman, I’d be all
over you like white on rice, cowboy.”

I laughed as Hank beat feet into the shower. “You’ve got
freaky friends, Darlin’.”

“Believe me, I know.” I said loud enough for Oliver to hear.
Hank’s hands came around my back and cupped my breasts, pinching the nipples
between his fingers.

“Buddy, if you don’t want another show, I suggest you get
movin’ on outta’ here,” Hank warned, his cock now erect and pressed against the
seam of my ass.

A dark blur carrying something bright red rushed past. I
heard the door snick shut a second later.

After a very productive shower— Hank liked to call it
preserving water—I had my red suit on paired with a beige silk blouse and nude
peep-toe slingbacks. Oliver had just put the final touches on a sleek chignon
when Hank leaned against the vanity. His dark jeans hung low on his hips, a
Dallas Cowboys t-shirt stretched tight against his broad chest.
Yum.

“So, how long will you be gone today?” Hank asked, arms
crossed over the other. He was still cradling the elbow on his wounded side,
but it was barely perceptible. It was odd that he was asking how long I’d be.
He’d never questioned when or how much I had to work before.

“I don’t know,” I countered honestly. “This model, Hank.
She’s incredible. The most sought after in the business right now, but she’s
young, dumb, makes terrible decisions, and needs help. She comes from a very
broken family and has no one to help set her on the right path.”

“And that person has to be you?” His voice wasn’t judgmental
or laced with anything other than curiosity.

“Maybe. Ultimately, I’m responsible for her completing the
jobs I’ve contracted her for through AIR Bright Modeling Agency. If she’s overdosed
on drugs, I need to assess whether she can finish the job she’s committed to
this weekend or is off to rehab. Why?” I didn’t mean for my tone to take on an
accusatory edge, but I’d never had to answer to anyone before and it threw me
off my game.

“No reason.” He shrugged. “Hey, would you have a problem
with me inviting some of the guys over for the game since you’ll be out?”
Immediately the tension I was prepared for ebbed and went away. He was so
adorable asking permission to have his friends over. It was unnecessary, he
didn’t need my permission for anything, but I appreciated it.

“Are we done, Ollie?” He spritzed a few more times capturing
any stray fly away hairs.

“Perfection. I’ll be in the kitchen grabbing your cappuccino
for the road.”

“Thank you.” I waited for him to leave the room then I
turned to Hank and put my arms around his waist. He curved those large arms
around me, hugging me close. The t-shirt he wore was baby soft against my cheek
as if it had been washed a million times. It probably had, for as much as Hank
loved that football team. “Hank, you can have whomever you want over, whenever
you want. For as long as you’re here, I want you to feel like this is your
home.”

“I do feel at home, Angel. Wherever you are is where I want
to be,” he said, his chin resting against the top of my head. I didn’t want to
hope it meant for good and I didn’t dare ask.

“Okay then. I have to go. Enjoy your game.”

He walked me out into the kitchen; his mother was talking to
Gustav. The tension was thick in the air. She wanted to make homemade pancakes,
and Gustav had planned on making crepes. Oliver watched the two, completely
fascinated as they argued. I tried to avoid making eye contact with Julia.
Remembering how she saw Hank carrying me out of the study in my birthday suit
last night sent a wave of heat across my face and neck. The skin of my neck
probably matched the red of my suit.

“Here you go, pretty girl.” Hank’s mother handed me a ball
of wrapped up paper towels.

“What’s this?”

“Homemade blueberry muffins. I made them early this morning
for you.” She smiled so bright it may have reached the edges of the sun. The
woman was incredibly kind and unfazed at all by the happenings between Hank and
me. Gustav scowled but kept quiet.

“Blueberry muffins are my favorite!” The muffin was still
warm. I was baffled by her kindness.

“I know, I asked Hank yesterday during your nap what some of
your favorite things were.” I looked over at Hank. He smiled shyly and looked
down, then shuffled his feet.

“Hank, how did you know that blueberry muffins were my
favorite? We haven’t had them together.”

“You mentioned it once when we walked past a bakery. Said
you don’t have them much because you only liked fresh-baked ones. Ma makes the
best in Texas.” He preened for his mother’s benefit. It was probably one of the
nicest things a man had ever done for me.

The door rang out and I rushed over to answer it. Dean’s
smiling face greeted me. “Your Cowboys are going down, man!” Dean smack-talked
the second I opened the door.

He was wearing a New York Giants shirt, not a Jets shirt.
His longish black hair was hanging loose around his face. He’d be an opposing
fella if I didn’t know better. Another guy I recognized pulled in behind him.
It was that lawyer friend of Aspen’s. My eyes narrowed at his presence but I
tried not to let it get to me.

“The hell they aren’t. Your Jets are going to flap their
girlie wings and fly away after my Cowboys hog tie their asses!”

“Hank, you said I could bring a friend. This is Nate Walker,
he does all the legal work for Aspen and Oleander.” He always called Oliver by
his pet name. I could relate. I rarely called my Angel by her God-given name.

“We’ve met.” I put out my hand to shake his hand.

“Yeah, Hank here thought I was putting the moves on his
bird,” he joked and shook my hand. I squeezed it tight to remind him that I
could take him out in a second if provoked.

“Damn! Mate, settle down. I need that hand!” He pulled away
and shook it, clearly in pain. I grinned happily.

“Didn’t you date Aspen, Nate?” Dean asked, and I bristled,
anger creeping up my spine.

“Bloody hell, Dean! You have a piss-poor way of introducing
friends. If I didn’t know any better, I’d suspect you were trying to get me
killed!” Okay, so the man didn’t have shit for brains.

“No bother. Aspen told me that you went on a couple dates,
said you kissed somethin’ awful. She compared you to her brother.” I shivered
and grimaced for fun.

“Put a sock in it. That’s just bloody mean,” he grinned but
I smacked him on the back to let him know we were good. Of course, I’d take
every opportunity to insult the man’s romancing skills every chance I could
today. Paybacks and all that.

Just as I turned around to talk more shit to Dean, the door
rang again. This time it was Mac. “Good to see ya, Mac! Always good to have
another Texan in the house!”

Mac was a large man, his Stetson firmly in place on his
head, Cowboys jersey proudly displayed. He almost stood taller than me with his
cowboy hat and boots. His brown eyes gleamed with mirth. “Nice digs, Boss.”

“Ah shucks, Mac. You know these digs are my lady’s. Wait
‘til you see the media room. You ain’t never gonna want to leave!”

We entered the room and Mac whistled. There were eight
individual leather recliners in a deep brown. At the front was a matching dark
leather couch. I suspected that’s where my girl laid down to watch movies.
Entire room was painted red with gold girlie swirls and shit dangling here and
there. The screen took up the entire far wall. It was as if we were in our own
personal movie theater. Ma brought us popcorn and some snacks.

“Gusto! Thanks for the beers, man.” He handed us chilled
pints full of ice cold beer. “Want to join the game? Gustav looked at the guys
and nodded. He sat in one of the chairs, and not too long after we were all
screamin’ and laughing at the screen. The Cowboys and Jets were tied at
halftime.

The guys followed me into the kitchen where Ma was dishing
out lunch. Gusto ran over to help.

“I got this, Gusto.”

“What is this?” he asked, his accent thick.

“Pigs in a blanket, silly.” Ma handed him one and he ate it.

His face screwed into what I think was pleasure. You could
never really tell with the man. He always seemed pissed off.

“You must teach me this!” he exclaimed, his tone serious.

“Alright, but only if you teach me how to make those crepe
thingies,” Ma offered.

The rest of us guys loaded our plates with food, grabbed
fresh brewskies, more chips and dip, then made our way onto the large outdoor
balcony to grub. Dean broke out some cigars and we enjoyed them with our beers.
The tobacco mixed with beer and guys made me feel right at home. I liked Dean
and Nate, more than I thought I would. Dean was more quiet than I was used to,
but when he spoke he had us all in stitches. The fella was funny.