Page 51 of Stroked Hard
“You can call me Big Daddy.”
Chuckling, she shakes her head. “Never going to happen.”
“All right, we can play around a little, how about sex god?”
“That’s a name that needs to be deserved, not just handed out lightly. How do I know you’re a sex god?”
“Come back to my place and I’ll fucking show you,” I answer seriously. Her eyes widen from my tone, which is so adorable and sexy that it sends a jolt straight to my dick, awakening the neglected bastard.
“I’ll pass.” She tries to say this casually, but by the gulp in her throat and the hitch in her voice, I can tell she’s being anything but casual. She wants it just as much as me, so why the fuck does she keep denying the chemistry between us?
We finish our ice creams, toss the sticks in the trash, and head toward our complex, enjoying the night air, the light breeze, and the setting sun. It’s a gorgeous night, one I want to capitalize on. I wasn’t kidding when I said the next time I walk Melony to her door, I was going to kiss her.
That’s what’s going to happen tonight.
We are a block away and I decide to make my move. Removing my hand from hers, she glances up at me, giving me the perfect opportunity. Speaking quickly, I say, “Last one to the apartments gets to choose the good-night activity.”
Without looking back, I take off. My muscles scream at me, but it’s all about deception. Hopefully she didn’t listen intently to what I said. I’m thinking she might have understood my gibberish until I see her fly by me, sprinting at full force.
If I wasn’t so happy right about now, I would feel a little insulted that she’s trying to win so badly.
We get to the complex, and she starts waving her hands in the air in excitement as I jog up slowly behind her.
“Man, for being an Olympian, you’re slow.”
“An Olympian who had six hours of training,” I add, making sure to clarify why I’m so damn sore.
“Whatever, I won.”
“Yes, you did, but good thing for me, I said loser gets to pick.”
Her face falls flat and she goes to argue when I see her mind processing a few minutes ago when I challenged her. Recognition hits her and irritation ensues her.
“You tricked me.”
“Precisely,” I answer with no shame, grabbing her hand and leading her to her apartment. “I knew I was a sore motherfucker and there was no way I would be able to beat you. Hell, I barely was keeping up with you on the run. So, I changed things around. It’s on you that you didn’t hear me properly. I can’t possibly take the blame for you.”
“Who’s to say I even agreed to this? We didn’t shake on it or anything,” she counters defiantly.
She’s got a point, but I have an even better one.
Squeezing her hand, I say, “Excellent assumption, sparkle butt. Unfortunately, when you partake in said challenge, that means you accept the terms of the bet. It’s common courtesy.”
“I don’t follow the rules,” she answers, her eyes just about devouring me.
Shit, I don’t want to play by the rules either when it comes to her. Right about now, I would do pretty much anything indecent in public just to have my lips on hers.
Too bad for her, I’m not going to let her get away with not cashing in on my bet. I have plans for tonight, and I will be seeing them through.
Chapter Twelve
MELONY
Why the hell am I letting Hollis hold my hand . . . again?
Didn’t I go over this last time? Get it together, Mel. Hand holding is intimate; it’s forming a bond. It’snotwhat I should be doing.
But here I am, listening to Hollis jabber on about winning his so-called bet and holding his hand while he walks me to my apartment.
