Talkin' Trash
Page 32

Now, all I needed was Conleigh to walk through the door.
Which she was supposed to be doing any second now.
My phone vibrated, and I glanced at it, wondering if I should bother reaching for it or not.
Then I heard the distinct vibration of Conleigh’s car pulling into the driveway and shutting off, making me realize that my phone could go missing and I wouldn’t give a single shit.
I closed my eyes and heard the thump of her car door closing, then felt my abdominals tighten in anticipation.
With each step she took, my anticipation grew—along with my cock.
By the time she had her hand on the knob and was pushing the door in, I felt like every nerve ending in my entire body was a live wire.
Her eyes were downcast, and she was typing something into her phone while juggling her phone, keys, and large RTIC cup in her hand.
The door swung shut behind her, and still, she didn’t look up.
I would’ve laughed at how exceptionally unobservant she was if I didn’t find it endearing.
“Hey, Linc!” Conleigh yelled, unaware that I was less than five feet from her. “Where are you? Why is Pru saying we’re not going to dinner with them anymo— oh, hey! What are you doing there?”
Finally, she looked at me, a frown pulling down the corners of those luscious lips.
“I’m waiting for you,” I replied honestly.
“I’d invited Pru to go with us tonight, and she just texted me saying that she heard from Hoax—though no idea why she is even talking to him. That’s something I’m going to have to drag out of her tomorrow—that we weren’t going anymore. Speaking of which, Hoax was looking fairly good.” She paused. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Because I want to fuck the absolute hell out of you until you forget how to pronounce words.
“Come here,” I ordered, patting the couch.
Her eyes went to the donuts that were on the coffee table in front of me. “You better not have eaten all of my powdered donuts. I just bought those yesterday.”
She had.
In fact, I’d been the one to tell her not to get them because they were just full of fat and useless, pointless carbs.
But, they did have their benefits…which I was about to show her.
That was if she ever came to me and stopped staring at me as if she was trying to figure out a confusing puzzle.
“Did you go run or something?” she asked, eyeing my shorts.
No, I know how much you love me in workout shorts, so I decided to wear them so I could further torture you.
“No, today’s rest day, remember?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re acting weird.”
Nevertheless, she slipped her shoes off—I’d never once seen her walk through the house with the shoes that she wore to work on—and dropped her things in the chair that was across the coffee table from me.
The next thing to go was her jewelry, which she placed on the coffee table. Her phone quickly followed suit.
Then she began emptying her pockets.
Band-Aids, alcohol swabs, still-packaged needles, tape.
All the while she kept her eyes on mine.
She did glance down at the bag of donuts and looked relieved that I hadn’t helped myself to them all…yet.
Eventually, though, she made her way around the coffee table and stopped just a few inches short of actually touching me.
The moment she did, I grinned. “Take off your clothes.”
“What? Why?” she asked, stepping back.
I caught her wrist in one hand and tugged her until she stood between my splayed thighs. “You said anything.”
Her pupils dilated.
“Linc…”
“You said anything,” I repeated.
A tiny smirk kicked up the corner of her mouth. “I did.”
Without any further conversation, she stripped her shirt off over her head, and then slowly stepped out of her scrub bottoms.
Moments later, she was left standing in only a pair of gray bikini underwear and a gray sports bra.
It was simple, yet the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
Conleigh didn’t need anything frilly or lacey to be beautiful.
All she needed was to be herself.
She had some crazy tan lines going on indicating that when she was outside, she wore short shorts and a tank top. Her belly was shockingly white, yet her arms and shoulders were golden brown.
And God, those goddamn legs of hers were going to be the death of me.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she whispered, her eyes intense and glued to mine.
She was watching my reaction, and she liked that I adored her body.
“Get rid of the panties,” I ordered instead of answering her question.
She did, kicking them off without a second thought.
“Bra.”
That went flying just like the panties, landing on the floor behind the couch with a soft thump.
Conleigh naked was indescribable.
She was everything that I ever dreamed of, and her perky breasts with those pink little nipples were the one thing that always surprised me.
“Those shorts kill me,” she whispered, her eyes no longer on my face, but my dick that was tenting up the front of my shorts.
I hadn’t bothered to put underwear on, so there was nothing restraining my cock but a thin piece of fabric that was meant to keep me cool, not contain my dick.
I grinned and gestured for her to come closer, which she did.
She was now standing with her knees against the couch, and the outside of her thighs touching the inside of mine.
Her left hand was barely an inch away from my cock, and I could practically see her fingers twitching as she fought the urge to reach for it.
Her nipples were hard, and as I smoothed my hand over the outside of her thigh up to palm her ass cheek, they hardened even further.
Perfect.
“They got a picture of you working out with Joe as y’all were exiting the weight room,” she murmured, her eyes transfixed on my pulsing cock. “Every woman in America agrees that these shorts are indecent.”
I laughed. “I don’t think indecent was the word.”
In fact, I was fairly sure of it.
I saw the article today when I was doing the mandatory tweet my publicist ordered me to do every day. I replied to more goddamn comments about the size of my cock in my shorts than I had about what I was looking forward to the most about the upcoming football season.
“No,” she agreed. “At least not when you’re with me, and I’m the one seeing it. When it’s the other women seeing this?” She dragged one single finger over the tip of my cock, sending an electric jolt through my body. “Well, that just makes me angry.”
“You said anything,” I murmured. “You remember that, right?”
Her eyes went wary. “Yeah.”
I felt anticipation start to run through my veins. “Lay down on the couch.”
She looked at the couch, eyeing the sheet that I’d thrown over it, then me where I was sitting in the middle, and waited for me to move.
I did, slowly, making sure to show off every single muscle that I could as I moved.
Her lips tightened, and she waited a beat too long as she tried to gain control over the roiling emotions that were charging through her.
Placing one knee into the couch, she went down to her hands and knees and then dropped down even lower until she was lying lengthwise along it.
“I wasn’t sure that these donuts were good for you,” I murmured, scooting the coffee table close. “But I think I’ve changed my mind.”
I snatched the bag up from where it was resting on the coffee table, turned, and then planted my ass on the hardwood.
Trailing my hand up the length of her back, I paused at the birthmark that was right above her tailbone, then leaned down and kissed it.
She shivered, a rush of breath leaving her lips.
“I have a feeling you’re about to kill me, and I’m about to adore every second of it,” she whispered.
I had a feeling that she was right.
Ripping open the bag, I reached for one of the donuts, then smashed it in my hand.
The gasp that left her mouth trailed off when I opened my hand and allowed the crumbs to fall down over her lower back, backside, and thighs.