Tank
Page 16
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I have shorts on. You were having a nightmare.”
“I was?” I wrap my arms around myself and curl up into a ball. I haven’t had nightmares since my parents died. I used to dream of my mother and what she was wearing that day. All dressed up for a night on the town with my dad. You’d think the fact that she was so happy would be a comforting image. Instead, it tormented me for months that she could be so happy and have it all taken away in a matter of moments.
“Yeah. I wasn’t trying anything, I swear. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed to sleep better with me here, so I stayed.”
In my sleep-muddled state, I answer with more candor than I otherwise would have. “What girl wouldn’t sleep better next to you?”
His chest rumbles beneath my palm. “Miss Shaw, are you flirting with me?”
Before I can think of an answer, there’s a soft snore. He’s asleep again. The soft rumbling sound lulls me to sleep and I don’t wake again until the next morning.
When I open my eyes, Tank is watching me. It’s an odd thing to look at someone this close up. His dark hair is spiked up all over his head and his eyes are still heavy with sleep. He doesn’t try to pretend like he’s not looking either. His eyes take in the full image of my face and what I’m sure must be messy hair then down to where my breasts mold against the thin fabric of the T-shirt I borrowed.
Most of the girls who wait tables at the Black Kitty are used to those types of looks from men. Guys aren’t that picky, especially when beer goggles are involved. They all do the same thing: they squint as they picture what’s under your clothes and then there’s that slightly glazed over look as they imagine what they’d do to you. It’s usually the grossest feeling ever.
But with Tank, it’s different. My body reacts immediately, my nipples blooming and pressing against the fabric. His gaze is like a touch; it awakens every one of my nerve endings. Heat blooms out from my core and spreads throughout me. Within moments I’m completely wet and ready for him.
“Were you watching me sleep?” I whisper.
When his eyes raise to mine, I see the answering desire there. There’s a tension in his big body that tells me he can deliver on every inch of the promise his eyes are making.
“Good morning, buttercup.” He kisses me softly, one hand sliding into my hair to cup my head. I’m so shocked that I don’t do anything at first. Then he kisses me again and my hands drift up to his hair. I curl my fingers through the thick strands. He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat.
He likes that.
I pull him down on top of me and then my hands are in his hair again. He’s so warm and everything about this feels so right. Waking up, sleepy and soft with this gorgeous hunk of man in my bed.
He shifts, allowing the full weight of his big body to press me into the mattress. It’s all chemical, the insanely seductive way he smells, the erotic taste of his tongue in my mouth and the ache between my legs as he presses right up against my core. I’m burning up and surely he can feel it. My arms wrap around his shoulders and trace over the muscles that flex under my touch.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he mumbles. “But I’m no angel and you are so beautiful.”
He inches down, his lips leaving soft kisses on my neck, my breastbone, then my stomach where the shirt I borrowed has ridden up. I squirm beneath the soft touches, especially as they get lower. His tongue dips into my belly button and then bites the swell below gently. I shudder under the assault, my hips pressing up with a will of their own.
He looks up at me, his eyes so dark and intense they look black. Then his head dips and his mouth settles over my sex.
“Tank!” I cry out again as he nips me through the fabric of my panties. He grabs the sides and pulls them down. The slide of the fabric against my skin is so erotic, especially when he sits back slightly and then looks at what’s between my legs like he’s never seen anything he wants as much. His eyes fall closed and he takes a deep inhale.
“I want your taste.”
“Yes, please.” I can’t even think let alone understand anything he’s saying. All I can see is that intense look in his eyes as he leans down and his tongue curls around my clit.
He settles himself between my knees, his big body pushing my legs out to make room for him. It’s the most shameless feeling, being in his bed with my legs spread while he tongues me. But I’m not sure how much shame I have left, whatever I started with slowly dissolving as he pushes his tongue into my pussy. I can’t do anything except splinter into a million pieces as he explores the lips of my sex and his hands cup my ass, pulling me forward for each thrust of his tongue.
I’m still shivering when he kisses my belly and then my neck. As he settles on top of me again, I soften beneath him, ready for him to strip my shirt off and finally have me completely naked. He kisses me and I can taste myself on his tongue. It just makes me hotter, sends my desire skyrocketing. I’m ready for him to make me come while he takes me. There’s nothing I want more than to watch those incredible eyes as he finds his own pleasure.
I’m mindless and I want him to do something, anything that will put me out of this misery. But even as I arch under him, pressing upward, rubbing myself against him, he’s slowing things down. The frantic coupling of our tongues changes to soft, suctioning kisses. His hands slide under my bottom but not to pull me closer, to hold me still.
“I was?” I wrap my arms around myself and curl up into a ball. I haven’t had nightmares since my parents died. I used to dream of my mother and what she was wearing that day. All dressed up for a night on the town with my dad. You’d think the fact that she was so happy would be a comforting image. Instead, it tormented me for months that she could be so happy and have it all taken away in a matter of moments.
“Yeah. I wasn’t trying anything, I swear. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed to sleep better with me here, so I stayed.”
In my sleep-muddled state, I answer with more candor than I otherwise would have. “What girl wouldn’t sleep better next to you?”
His chest rumbles beneath my palm. “Miss Shaw, are you flirting with me?”
Before I can think of an answer, there’s a soft snore. He’s asleep again. The soft rumbling sound lulls me to sleep and I don’t wake again until the next morning.
When I open my eyes, Tank is watching me. It’s an odd thing to look at someone this close up. His dark hair is spiked up all over his head and his eyes are still heavy with sleep. He doesn’t try to pretend like he’s not looking either. His eyes take in the full image of my face and what I’m sure must be messy hair then down to where my breasts mold against the thin fabric of the T-shirt I borrowed.
Most of the girls who wait tables at the Black Kitty are used to those types of looks from men. Guys aren’t that picky, especially when beer goggles are involved. They all do the same thing: they squint as they picture what’s under your clothes and then there’s that slightly glazed over look as they imagine what they’d do to you. It’s usually the grossest feeling ever.
But with Tank, it’s different. My body reacts immediately, my nipples blooming and pressing against the fabric. His gaze is like a touch; it awakens every one of my nerve endings. Heat blooms out from my core and spreads throughout me. Within moments I’m completely wet and ready for him.
“Were you watching me sleep?” I whisper.
When his eyes raise to mine, I see the answering desire there. There’s a tension in his big body that tells me he can deliver on every inch of the promise his eyes are making.
“Good morning, buttercup.” He kisses me softly, one hand sliding into my hair to cup my head. I’m so shocked that I don’t do anything at first. Then he kisses me again and my hands drift up to his hair. I curl my fingers through the thick strands. He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat.
He likes that.
I pull him down on top of me and then my hands are in his hair again. He’s so warm and everything about this feels so right. Waking up, sleepy and soft with this gorgeous hunk of man in my bed.
He shifts, allowing the full weight of his big body to press me into the mattress. It’s all chemical, the insanely seductive way he smells, the erotic taste of his tongue in my mouth and the ache between my legs as he presses right up against my core. I’m burning up and surely he can feel it. My arms wrap around his shoulders and trace over the muscles that flex under my touch.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he mumbles. “But I’m no angel and you are so beautiful.”
He inches down, his lips leaving soft kisses on my neck, my breastbone, then my stomach where the shirt I borrowed has ridden up. I squirm beneath the soft touches, especially as they get lower. His tongue dips into my belly button and then bites the swell below gently. I shudder under the assault, my hips pressing up with a will of their own.
He looks up at me, his eyes so dark and intense they look black. Then his head dips and his mouth settles over my sex.
“Tank!” I cry out again as he nips me through the fabric of my panties. He grabs the sides and pulls them down. The slide of the fabric against my skin is so erotic, especially when he sits back slightly and then looks at what’s between my legs like he’s never seen anything he wants as much. His eyes fall closed and he takes a deep inhale.
“I want your taste.”
“Yes, please.” I can’t even think let alone understand anything he’s saying. All I can see is that intense look in his eyes as he leans down and his tongue curls around my clit.
He settles himself between my knees, his big body pushing my legs out to make room for him. It’s the most shameless feeling, being in his bed with my legs spread while he tongues me. But I’m not sure how much shame I have left, whatever I started with slowly dissolving as he pushes his tongue into my pussy. I can’t do anything except splinter into a million pieces as he explores the lips of my sex and his hands cup my ass, pulling me forward for each thrust of his tongue.
I’m still shivering when he kisses my belly and then my neck. As he settles on top of me again, I soften beneath him, ready for him to strip my shirt off and finally have me completely naked. He kisses me and I can taste myself on his tongue. It just makes me hotter, sends my desire skyrocketing. I’m ready for him to make me come while he takes me. There’s nothing I want more than to watch those incredible eyes as he finds his own pleasure.
I’m mindless and I want him to do something, anything that will put me out of this misery. But even as I arch under him, pressing upward, rubbing myself against him, he’s slowing things down. The frantic coupling of our tongues changes to soft, suctioning kisses. His hands slide under my bottom but not to pull me closer, to hold me still.
