Covet (Sinful Secrets 3)

The best ones are the so-called “bat bunnies”—the ones who fuck the whole damn team—the unattached ones, anyway—then tag us all on Instagram or post a pic in someone’s boxer briefs.

If a girl in Boston, or New York, or LA looks younger than me, I give her a second thought. I try to say “no” if she’s fucked up on something, if she mentions anything about the future, or gets breathless when I kiss her. If she even hesitates unbuttoning my pants, sometimes I’ll get cold feet and throw the brakes on.

I feel like a stranger to myself when I think of Finley curled up back there in the bed, probably just a little while away from waking up sore. Sore because I let myself take what I wanted.

But—fuck me—I can’t seem to do things differently. I can’t stay away from her. Even if I wanted to, I can’t. The worst thing is, I don’t want to. I’ve got no sense of restraint when I’m around her. No self-control. I don’t like that. If nothing else, I want to be someone who’s…not predatory.

She seemed like she knew what she wanted, but does she really? How will she feel when it’s time for me to go home? How the fuck do I respect her right to decide what to do with her own pussy and also protect her?

By not fucking her, dipshit.

Just say “no.”

I move some pancakes from the skillet to the plate and think hard on that option. Thinking of ending things with her makes my stomach lurch. Gives me that bad free-fall feeling.

I’m still thinking when I spot her in the doorway. She’s got on the same clothes as last night—dark jeans and a plain gray, long-sleeved shirt—but her hair’s flowing down her shoulders, and her face is soft, her eyes sleepy. When she sees me, she grins like she’s won the lottery. She bounces over, throwing her arm around me as she laughs softly.

“Look at you.” Her hand comes to my neck, and I frown before remembering I put an apron on. I shake my head, and she hugs me.

“That was Gammy’s. It looks better on you, though. What are you doing in here?” She looks at the skillet, and her green eyes widen. “Incredible.”

“You think I can’t cook?”

She laughs. “Of course. I’d imagine you’d have a harem of lady chefs who feed you grapes in bed.”

I snort. Then I wrap my arm around her, pull her up against my side so I can hold her up against me while my free hand flips the pancakes. “I can cook a few things, Siren. Mac and cheese. Bacon. Cheese toast.” I chuckle. “Pancakes…waffles.”

“These smell lovely.”

She breaks away from me, setting up the table for us. I can feel her eyes on my back as I finish cooking. While we eat, my heart starts kind of racing and my hands start shaking, but I keep on talking—we’re debating whethe

r aliens will visit Earth (she thinks yes, I think maybe)—and keep eating, even though I’ve got that never-ending seasick feeling.

When we’ve almost finished off the pancake pile, she drops a piece into her lap, and my hand dives under the table cloth. Our eyes meet, and instead of moving back to the table, my hand curves around her knee.

She looks at me with wide eyes and an “o” mouth and those pink cheeks, and I can’t help smiling.

“It’s the shy Siren.” I stroke her denim-covered thigh.

Her hand covers mine, and she smiles shyly. She looks giddy. Like a kid. We lace our hands together, and that’s how we sit while we both finish eating.

We end up fucking again after. I don’t want to push her, but in the end, it’s Finley who pushes me. We’re on the couch, and I’m about to push in when I realize I don’t have a condom. I have to run go grab one. Finley laughs her ass off as I try to get it on.

“It’s far too tight!” She chortles.

I shake my head, tugging and pulling at the damn thing.

“Are you too oversize for ordinary condoms?”

“Oversize. Now that sounds like a bad thing.”

“Oh, it’s not a bad thing.”

My gaze catches on her bare breasts and her legs, spread slightly, giving me a peek at that plump pussy. I can’t formulate a reply. My dick is desperate to be in that tight cunt. I dirty talk her some and tease her, rolling my head around her dripping slit while she squirms, looking gorgeous with her hair everywhere and a little smile on her lips.

I make sure she’s nice and wet before I push in. Then I hold her hips, gritting my teeth as I restrain from the hard fuck I want to give her. It’s her second time; I’ve gotta take it slow. That’s okay, because it feels so goddamn good…the way she squeezes me. I try to remember anything before her—the last time I fucked a woman and felt good after.

Shit, when was it? Last summer? I don’t like to think of that, so I focus on my breathing and her little murmurs and her sharp cries. I bring Finley pleasure, and I have myself one hell of a hard come. Afterward, she crawls into my lap and teases my cock in its condom. She runs her warm palm down my happy trail, and I get hard again. Then she cradles my balls and gets me panting like a teenager.