Unexpected Heat - An Enemies to Lovers Romance - Page 11

My cock fills her completely. Her fingernails rake my back. She bites my neck, all the while calling out my name.

Harder.

I thrust faster into my hand. I’m lost completely in her. Her pussy tightens on my cock as her orgasm builds up. I slam into her, and she arches her body to meet every hard thrust. Her nails dig into my butt, pulling me in deeper.

Fuck yeah. She whimpers. Her orgasm is close. So is mine.

Her pussy tightens and clamps down. She screams. This spins me off to my own orgasm. I growl as I spill my cum onto the floor. When it’s over, I turn the knob to hot water and stand there as the water cascades down my body.

I feel both relieved and ashamed. It’s been a while since I jacked off. Worse, to fantasies about the woman who is working for me, and that makes her a no-go zone. What would she say if she knew that her new boss had just mind-fucked her?

I turn off the shower and towel myself down. I dress and head downstairs. Mila has already set the table. In the middle is a vase with wildflowers.

“It looks beautiful,” I tell her when she comes in carrying a casserole dish.

“Thanks,” she says.

Just like you. The thought pops into my mind, but I don’t say it. “Do you want me to fetch Isaac?”

“Yes, please, dinner’s ready.”

A feeling of Deja vu comes over me. The scene unfolding reminds me of the early years of my marriage with Brenda. She had cooked every evening and seemed happy to be a stay at home mom. I had asked her countless times whether she wanted to go to school to study or get a job. It wasn’t for the money. I just thought it would be nice if she could also find fulfillment in a career or a job as I was. She always said no and that she was just happy to take care of me.

Then Isaac had come, and that had been the end of that. Two years later, I happened to arrive home early and found Mike fucking my wife in my living room. With my son napping down the hallway. I went ape-shit.

Chapter 6

Mila

“Did you always want to be a firefighter?” I ask Brad while skimming his wide chest and muscled arms. He’s in a V-neck T-shirt that hugs his chest.

“Pretty much,” he says, his eyes dipping to the cleavage peeking from my blouse.

I’m ashamed to admit that after Isaac went to bed, I undid the first button of my blouse. Anything to tempt Brad into grabbing and kissing me. I’m in no doubt that he feels as I do. He wants me too. But something is stopping him from taking that first step.

“My dad was a policeman, and I have two uncles who were firefighters. Public service is pretty much a family thing.”

I stop lusting long enough to digest what he’s said. A tone of pride creeps into his voice as he speaks about his family.

“They live north of the state,” he added with a soft smile. “What about you, Mila? Where are you from?”

What about me? I was as fucked up as they came when it came to family. My father passed on five years ago in the middle of his third divorce. My mother is on her fourth marriage. I find it puzzling when people speak about their families and don’t roll their eyes.

“My father passed on a few years ago,” I say, and a sympathetic look comes over Brad’s features. I’m tempted to tell him to save his emotions. My father is not worth it. He was not a good person. I shrug instead.

“My mother lives in Spain with her husband,” I tell Brad.

He nods. “It’s a good thing she found someone else to love.”

I almost laugh out loud at that. A bitter laugh. I don’t think it is love that mom usually looks for. “He’s her fourth husband.”

I stifle the urge to laugh at Brad’s reaction. He’s shocked but trying very hard to hide it. There’s silence as he takes that in. I sip my coffee and stare at him over the rim of my mug. He has the kind of face that you want to keep staring at.

I realize suddenly that all along, I’ve assumed his relationship status. Horror comes over me, and I almost choke on my coffee. What if I’ve been lusting over a man who is in a relationship? I take a deep breath and think logically. I’m sure there is no girlfriend. He or Isaac would already have mentioned it.

“I’m sorry. That must be tough for you,” he says, his voice sincere.

Tears immediately spring to my eyes, and I gulp my coffee to hide them. It is how he says it—full of genuine sympathy. As if he understands the rough childhood I’ve had.

Tags: Sarah J. Brooks Romance
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