The body contact had affected him too. He ran his hand down the length of his erection. Aching after touching a woman’s ass, Duke needed release. Bad. Thirty-three years old and he couldn’t keep his libido under control. Hell, the man upstairs had given the rod to him for fucking. He’d put it to good use.
He pulled out several foil packages from his pocket. They stole away sensitivity, but confirmed bachelors had to keep the little DNA guys out of coed pools. Donnie stuffed the packages back into his pocket for safekeeping until Challie finished all her cleaning.
Once they finished all of the cleaning.
Duke went limp as a half-cooked noodle. Why the hell did he volunteer? Cleaning was women’s work, the very reason he’d hired a maid service to clean his condo, the same reason he ate in restaurants, except for grilling an occasional burger or two while in Montana.
A bloodcurdling scream broke the reverie. Donnie ran down the hall, banged on the bathroom door and jiggled the knob. “Unlock the door, Challie.”
When it didn’t open soon enough, he rammed his shoulder against it. Didn’t take much effort. He moved in behind her. Absorbing a bit of her body heat jolted Duke. Damn. What was it about this woman? Moving closer, an arc of electricity shot between them. Did she feel it? Apparently not. She pointed to the tub. Dead mouse and dead insects, primarily spiders. He had to admit the bathroom was a filthy son of a bitch.
“I’m leaving.” She shoved past him.
“Wait. I’ll clean it. Sterilize it. First thing.”
She came to a stop, kept her back to him. “Toilet, sink, counter, floor?”
“I’ll clean it all. You can do an inspection when I’m finished. If it doesn’t meet your standards, I’ll clean until you approve. Stay. Please?”
He couldn’t let her leave. They had to get married, consummate the union to keep him out of jail. He needed a piece of ass too. Hers, after watching those hips, perfect rounded hips attached to a plump ass.
Shoulders dropping, she turned and said, “I’ll clean the kitchen while you deal with this mess. I hate cleaning bathrooms, especially after men.”
It was the lengthiest set of words she’d ever spoken to him. She had a hell of a sexy voice. Deep. Throaty. With an accent from somewhere. She also had a familiar smile he couldn’t quite place. In fact, this was the first time he’d really looked at her face. Her wide smile produced two eye-catching dimples. Why hadn’t he noticed them before?
Duh. She’d never smiled at him, had avoided him like a nasty virus ever since the first time he’d seen her at the mansion; on her knees, scrubbing the marble floor, butt tooted straight up in the air. Instant hard-on.
“Paul said we’d need some supplies. As filthy as this place is, I can’t imagine anybody wiped out all the cleansers.”
“Maybe I can find something.”
Donnie followed her to the kitchen. When she bent over, Duke rewarded her with a standing acknowledgment.
Oh, yeah. He could drive it home on this prime behind. Forget restraint. He was tempted to hike the flimsy skirt up to her waist. He’d have to go easy. He was big, long and thick. A woman’s snatch had to be soaking wet before he plowed into her. Surely, this lady was ready for him after the first nut breaker, quiet as she was. Broads contained their lusty shouts better than he could; Donnie had a healthy set of lungs.
“What do you need?” Challie asked. She removed items from the lower cabinet.
You. He realized he’d stroked Duke into a fine frenzy. Swallowing, he said, “Everything. The works.” Damn. He wanted to fuck her right here, bend her over the counter and work Ms. Smith with surefire finesse.
Hold up. Back off, bud. Get control of yourself.
He’d never let a woman get him so riled. Too much pressure. He knew his screwing days were cut short.
“Can you find a bucket somewhere?”
One big enough to hold his juice if he didn’t get away from her. “I’ll see.” Donnie turned his back before she saw Duke flaring up.
Two hours later, Donnie came out of the bathroom madder than hell.
After unloading the Jeep Cherokee of supplies, he had to clean the funk some jackass had left behind. Goddamn hunters were nasty bastards. He’d remember this every time he used the commode. Seat up, aiming straighter.
He went around the corner into the kitchen. Challie stood on the counter, barefoot, wearing loose red shorts and a matching little top while wiping down cabinets.
Anger dissolving, he moved toward her. Duke went on the rise again seeing a pair of shapely, naked legs attached to her meaty ass. Metal detectors had nothing on his cock. Every time he laid his eyes on this woman’s butt, his cock was lured forward.
She had small feet, slim ankles, well-developed calves. Muscled thighs looked strong enough to squeeze the breath from his body. All tempted him to run his fingers up her leg to the juncture waiting for his immediate thrust.
Bet she has a tight-assed sexpot as strong as her thighs.
He barely touched the back of her knee, but she shrieked. Spinning around, she lost her balance. Challie toppled right into his arms. Hell, she couldn’t weigh more than a hundred and ten pounds, but the woman had two hundred decibels worth of outraged scream.
“Put me down!”
Donnie slid her down his body in major contact. No way would Duke’s reaction go unnoticed. “What would you have done if I wasn’t here to catch you?” he snapped, settling his hands at his waist.
She stepped back, bumped into the cabinet. “I’d still be standing on the counter,” she shouted. She had both fists balled up tight, glued to her hips. “What were you doing sneaking up behind me? I hate sneaking.”
Well, shit. Busted. “I wasn’t sneaking.”
“If you weren’t, I would’ve heard you coming.”
She shoved at his chest harder than he expected, but Donnie managed to hold his ground. “And?” he said, flattening his hands on the counter, boxing her in.
No way he’d let her sidestep him. She sucked in air when their bodies made connection, his throbbing cock in vibrant contact with her belly. Duke had reared up proud, vibrating.
Donnie dipped, rubbed his cock down to the tip of her heat and back up again. When Challie shivered, he caught her lips in a devouring kiss.
3
Everything tingled in her body; every atom multiplied. Challie was afraid to breathe, let alone think.
Amobi, the young man from the town near her village, had never kissed her this well. Never this thoroughly.
Fontana tasted like mint. The cool freshness danced over her taste buds. His tongue touched every crevice inside, almost went down her throat.
Goodness.
She matched his teasing, tasting every bit of him as his arms closed around her. As he lifted her off the floor, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing more firmly against his solid body, moving her hips to the exciting music playing inside her brain.
His man-thing pushed insistently against her pelvis, touching the tip of her most private possession, sending a devastating shimmer through her body. Automatically, she clamped her thighs around his waist, wanting to feel more, wanting something she didn’t recognize.
She was wet again. Really wet. The harder his thrusts, the wetter her panties, the more her insides quivered in response. Gripping her bottom, he pulled her forward then eased her backward in a rhythm she remembered. Yet those memories weren’t as sensuous as today’s delicious event.