Eat Crow (Cheap Thrills 6)

Mustering as much patience as she could, which wasn’t a lot given the tone she ended up using, she explained, “Logan, if you don’t get inside me in the next ten seconds, the coroner’s going to have to figure out how to tell my parents I died of sexual starvation. Please, do me a favor and make it a better day for them all than that.”

Grinning wickedly, I went back to moving my hand to where it’d been headed before. I should have known—really should have known—that the joke was going to be on me, because when I felt how wet she was, the smile dropped from my face.

Any humor and joking left the situation completely as I took my cock in my hand and notched it at her entrance.

“I know for a fact I’m clean, but regardless of what you said, I can still get a condom if you’ve changed your mind.”

It would always be her choice.

Keeping her eyes on mine, she lifted her hips, pushing me slightly into her.

I swear I stopped breathing. Maybe I died for like a second, I don’t know, but I’d never felt anything like this before in my life. I was numb all over except for the part of me inside her, and it felt like everything in the world was focused on this moment and the two of us. Was that corny? I didn’t give one iota of a fuck about if it was because it was damn well true.

It was vital that I got to see her reaction as I pushed farther into her, so I held back from even blinking as I pushed gently into her again. I wasn’t going to rush it even if it killed me, so every move I made was small and controlled.

It was after I’d just pulled out of her and was about to move my hips forward that the chorus for Take It Easy by the Eagles started blaring from my cell, meaning that I jerked forward and deeper into her than I’d intended, leaving half of my length buried inside her.

Groaning at the feeling of the wet warmth squeezing me tightly, I froze to make sure she was okay.

With her nails embedded in my back, she moaned, “Holy shit.”

I held myself in place as we both tried to catch our breaths after the song stopped before it started up again. “What’s that?”

Then it sank in. “Damn it, that’s DB.”

Her limbs tightened around me as she lifted her head to look over my shoulder, which didn’t help with how much it was taking me to hold back from moving again. “Where?”

I was so focused on what I was doing that her question didn’t make sense. “What?”

“Where’s DB?”

“Oh, on the phone.”

The music stopped again, and I relaxed, but it was quickly replaced by the chorus to Thank God I’m A Country Boy.

I could see and feel her fighting laughter. “Who’s that?”

Seeing the humor in it, my lips twitched. “Carter.”

You’d think having the cognitive abilities to identify ringtones with people would make it hit home that work was calling, but unfortunately, it didn’t. It still didn’t when Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac took over the playlist.

Before she could ask, I identified it for her. “That’s Garrett.”

All of the tension left her body as she dropped her head onto the pillow and burst out laughing, squeezing down around me and making me groan.

“I think work’s trying to get in touch with you,” she wheezed, tightening again.

Take It Easy started playing again, and I lunged toward the phone, managing to reach it without detaching from her.

I didn’t even get to say anything as I hit the green answer icon.

“Richards, get your ass in here,” he snapped and hung up just as a call waiting beep sounded with Carter’s name on the screen.

Glancing at Bex, I hit answer. “It’s cool, I just spoke to DB. I’m on my way.”

“Yeah,” he growled, the sound of his indicator following it. “Did he tell you we have a problem and how big a problem it is?”

Looking away from her, I stared at the headboard, thinking how good it would be for her to hold onto while I took her from behind.