Delaney's door is open, but I walk past it into my bedroom and set my helmet on the desk. I'm sitting down and taking off my boots when she steps inside. "What did you say to her?" she whispers.
"Nothing," I say. "Absolutely nothing."
"She doesn't know what happened?" Delaney looks panicked, and her voice squeaks.
"She's a drunk," I say. "Do you really think she knows anything?"
"She seemed like she did."
"Well, it's a good thing there's nothing to know, then, is there?" I unzip my jacket and lay it across the back of the chair, turning to see Delaney just standing there watching me.
"There's nothing to know," she echoes, and I'm not sure if she's asking a question or repeating my statement.
"Nothing happened between us," I elaborate. "So there's really nothing to know. Now, I'm trying to get in the shower. Did you have something else to ask?"
Delaney shakes her head slowly, still staring at me. "Did you ride?"
"Yep."
"Your leg is doing better?"
"Yep."
"Are you just going to answer me in one-word responses?"
"What do you want me to say, Delaney?" I walk toward her, and she backs up until she's pressed against the wall in my bedroom. Irritation surges through me, although the sight of her against the wall makes my cock stir. "You're the one who wanted us to be professional."
"I –" she starts, looking up at me with pleading eyes. "I want us to be friends, though."
"I already told you," I whisper. I watch as her chest rises and falls, her breath short. I want to taste her. "I don't want to be your friend."
"What do you want, then?" she asks.
"Don't fucking do that, Delaney." I put my hands on her wrists, pin them at her sides, then change my mind and push them roughly above her head. Her lips part, and she arches her back, her breasts high in the air.
"Don't do what?"
"Don't ask questions that sound innocent, and then look at me like you're doing right now, like you want me," I say. "I'm not playing a fucking game here."
"What do you want?" she whispers.
Holding her wrists against the wall with one hand, I slide my other palm up her thigh, moving it higher and higher and bunching her pencil skirt up around her ass. "You know what I want," I whisper. "I want to slide my cock inside your wet pussy until you call my name like you did that night. I want to hear the little whimpering sound you make before you come."
She says nothing, but she makes that sound in the back of her throat, the one I just described. The whimper. My fingers aren't even between her fucking legs, and she's making that sound. Fuck, that sound is going to be my undoing.
I reach between her legs. Her panties are soaked already, and I think that fact alone might make me come. She looks at me, her expression colored with lust.
"Tell me what you want, darlin'," I whisper, my fingers moving across the surface of those panties. "Still want to be friends?"
"It's not – shit, Gaige, it's not a good idea." But her breath is already coming in gasps.
"I tell you what I want to do to you, and you can't do the same?" I ask. "You kick me out of your room the morning after, then ignore me for the past fourteen fucking days. And now you're in my room panting and you're still not going to say you want me? Just say it, darlin'. I want to hear the words come out of your mouth."
"I –" she starts. Then she looks at me. "I want you."
I drop to my knees in front of her and yank her skirt up to her waist while she runs her hands through my hair. "Not good enough," I say, my fingers trailing along the surface of her panties. "I want to hear exactly what you want."
"I want you," she says. Gripping the side of her thong, I tear the fabric in two. "What are you doing?"
"I want to rip these the hell off you," I say, doing the same with the other side. "What do you want me to do? For a girl who's so fucking mouthy all the time, you're awful quiet now."
"I want you to –" She clears her throat. "I want you to lick me."
I touch my tongue to her pussy, tasting the sweetness of her juices. She's practically dripping, and she moans the second I touch her. "Like this?"
"I want you to do what you did before," she says. "Make me come on your face." I slide my fingers inside her, cover her clit with my mouth, sucking it in as I listen to her breath become shorter.
"Keep talking," I say. "Tell me what else."
"Oh, fuck, Gaige," she says, her breath shorter. "I want you to fuck me. I want to feel your cock inside me when I come."
Hearing those words come out of oh-so-professional Delaney's mouth nearly does me in. My cock is throbbing against the fabric of my pants. But I stand, my fingers still inside her, and kiss her hard on the mouth. When I pull back, she gasps for breath and I withdraw my fingers, sliding them over her bottom lip, coating it with her wetness. "Tell me you're mine," I demand.