Dirty Deeds (Get Dirty 3)

He lays his cheek against the top of my head, hugging me close. It’s sweet and comforting, but that’s not what I want. I don’t want to be babied and kept like a fragile doll he’s scared to break.

I want to celebrate that things are getting better—freedom from my job, hope that there won’t be a war—to celebrate this moment as the gift it is.

My cheek pressed to his chest, I reach down, letting my hand roam closer and closer to his waistband. “Well, that’s not all we can do . . .”

Shane looks down at me, and I bite my lip, waiting to see what he says, what he’ll do. He’s searching for something in my eyes, some sign that I’m really okay with everything that’s happening.

I can’t wait any longer for him to decide and force the issue by lifting up to my tiptoes and using his shoulders as leverage to press my mouth to his. I lick the seam of his lips, begging him to open for me as my free hand reaches down to cup him through his pants.

It’s all it takes to wipe away the last of his worries, and it’s the last moment I’m in charge. His tongue presses into my mouth, consuming me as he pulls my hair, tilting my face higher toward him.

A moan escapes me, and Shane answers with a growl. Holding me in his strong arms, he carries me across the room into the living room, but our mouths never break contact. Instead, he’s guided by some form of internal radar or something until he reaches the middle of the room. He sets me down, immediately ripping my long T-shirt over my head and slipping my panties to the floor.

I stand there, naked and wanting as he pulls his clothes off with almost unnatural speed. His cock is hard, reaching toward his belly button, and I can see a drop of clear precum on the head. I want it and unconsciously, I lick my lips as my knees start to bend.

Shane notices and smirks. “You want to taste me again, Angel? It’s yours. I’m yours.”

I drop all the way to my knees and look up at Shane from the floor. “Then give it to me.”

I stick my tongue out as Shane grasps his cock, guiding the tip to my outstretched tongue, and the flavor of the salty drop explodes across my tongue, making me whimper for more. I want to worship him, to show him that he’s my everything.

Shane slides a hand into my hair, holding me still, and slips his tip along my tongue, teasing me, teasing himself as he reads my eyes, nodding. I cover his shaft in little butterfly kisses and lollipop licks until he shudders, his control stretched as far as he can take it. “Fuck, Maggie,” he growls, pulling my hair tighter. “Suck me.”

It’s all the permission I need to take back a bit of control, and I close my lips around him, letting my tongue dance around his slit before bobbing up and down along his shaft, setting a fierce pace.

I hollow my cheeks, sucking him hard and delighting at the sounds I’m drawing from him. I reach up, my fingers digging into the dimples on his powerful ass muscles as I pull him in all the way. He’s mine, and I’m his . . . his loving, worshipful woman who can take all he has.

All too soon, though, he pulls back, squeezing tight at the base of his shaft as he shakes his head. “Not yet. I want to come inside that sweet little pussy.”

I nod, smiling as Shane offers me a hand, helping me rise from his feet and then immediately turning me so that my back is to his front. The entire skin of my back is pressed against him as I look over my shoulder while he cups my breasts. He guides me toward the couch near the wall. It’s big, and when he pushes me over the high arm of the couch, my toes barely reach the floor while he gets me positioned the way he wants.

“Damn, Angel,” Shane says, his voice raspy and heavy with need. “You look so pretty like this, ass up in the air so I can see your wet little pussy, so ready for my cock. Only one thing could make it better.”

I’m squirming, needy, so when he bends down, I expect a nice lick to my soaked core. But that’s not what Shane does, my mouthy, possessive man.

He swipes a thumb through my folds and bites low on my ass, right at the meaty part above my thighs, and the sharp prick of pain blends with the pleasure as he strokes me. I cry out, arching my back for more, but Shane stands, and I look over my shoulder.