Page 26 of Her BRATVA Protector
And that’s it. That’s the end of my restraint. That’s the straw that just snapped the back of a Scottish camel. I take the mug out of her hand and set it on the table, take Lisa by both wrists and I pull her out of the chair.
The chair scrapes, and she’s on her feet. Her chest pressed tomine, our thighs touching, breathing like she’s been running.
I tilt her face up with one finger under her chin and look at her.
My voice is nothing but feral hunger. “I’m about to put ye on this counter.”
A small sound escapes from the back of her throat, and she nods.
“Aye.” Something dark and pleased moves through my chest. “Good lass.”
I pick her up.
Ten
Lisa
He picks me up like I weigh nothing, and the next thing I know his hips are between my legs and my dress is shoved up because he’s got a fistful of the cotton at my hip.
“Adam…”
“Aye, love.”
“Adam, we…”
“We what?”
“We’re in the kitchen!”
“It’s your kitchen, love.” His mouth is at the side of my throat, hot, open, his beard scraping the skin under my jaw. “Naebody’s coming in here.”
His hand finds the hem of my dress and pushes it up the rest of the way, baring my thighs, my belly… everything to the warmair of the room, to him. I have nothing on under this dress; my panties are still in the pocket of last night’s jeans, wherever he left them. And the realization that I am naked and spread on my kitchen counter at seven in the morning hits me.
I let out a whimper.
“Fuck, look at ye.” His voice is a low, rough thing right at my ear, and his hand…Lord, his big hand is between my thighs, the heel of it pressing against me where I’m already aching… “Look at ye, hen. Already so fucking wet for me.”
“Adam.”
He drags one rough, callused finger through me, slow, lazy, like he has all the time in the world. “How long have ye been like this, lass?”
“…”
“All night. Aye? Lying next to me in that bed all night like this?”
“I…”
“Should’ve woken me, love. Could’ve taken care of ye.”
He pushes one finger inside me…just one, slowly, all the way in…and I jerk off the counter, my hands flying to his massive shoulders, my nails digging into the warm, bare skin, and Adam makes a sound at the back of his throat that is half-growl, half-pleasure, like he is immensely happy with me, like I have done something right by being soaked and ready for him.
“There she is. There’s my fucking girl.”
His finger curls, hooks, and finds the spot.
I sob.
“Oh. Oh, oh, oh…”
