Page 70 of Off-Limits

“Open wide, Blossom. I want you to taste us.”

Her tongue lolls out, but her eyes stay closed, and when I place my fingers on her lips, she wraps them around my digits and sucks. Fuck me to hell, this woman is going to be the death of me.

My cock is still hard and normally I’d take her again, butshe must be sore and spent, so I slowly unfasten the belt from her wrists.

Cradling her in my arms, I lay her in bed before getting up and locking the door. I take one last look at her to find she’s already snoring softly, before I click the light off and crawl in beside her.

It’s only us in the dark and our dirty secret. Stroking her hair, I kiss her nose and then draw her back to my chest. The last thing I do before the Sandman whisks me away, is give her a confession that I should probably keep to myself.

“I think I’m going to keep you.”

Chapter Nineteen

DOTTIE

Why am I so hot and sore?

I groan and grip the pillow tighter, scissoring my legs together in hopes it will dull this delicious ache forming in my core. It is too early, and I am too bloody sore. What the hell happened last night?

Then it hits me like a damn freight train, and I snap upright, feeling dizzy from the sudden movement. I can still smell him, and is that coffee?

I don’t see him. I do however see the coffee and a note on the bedside table. Leaning forward, I reach for the paper and palm the mug in my other hand. Unfolding it, I start to read.

Be at the garage by ten or your ass is mine.

Tin Man xox

He can’t be serious, but I’m not ready to test that theory, so I haul my ass out of bed, scull my coffee, and head towardthe bathroom. I have an hour until I need to be there, and a shower is in order if I’m going to be anywhere near that man.

I shiver at the memory, and my lady bits tingle at everything he did last night. At everything he said and promised me, but one thing sticks out the most, and as the hot water hits my skin, I fight the urge to touch myself.

Oh, Dorothy, you have no idea who you’re messing with. Last night we barely scratched the surface, and now, now that you are mine, I am going to have all of you.

Am I his?

Of course not. He’s delusional. There is only one way this ends and that’s with me having a broken heart and losing my best friend. I can’t let that happen, but I also have to finish this fucking mural, so I can go home to Sydney.

I shower quickly, get dressed in my painting gear and get the fuck out there. It’s quarter to ten when I arrive at the workshop, and being a Sunday, no one is working. Slipping my key into the lock, I open the door and head for the reception area where I find another coffee on my desk and a box with a ribbon wrapped around it.

What the…

Looking over my shoulder, I grab the takeaway cup and sip the black coffee.

Throwing myself into the office chair, I unwrap the box, and I gasp when I see the contents. Grabbing the small envelope, I open it and read the contents.

Blossom. Today you will wear this while you paint the mural. If I return, and you aren’t, it will be another night of orgasm denial for you, and this time you won’t come. Don’t test me.

Yours, Tin-Manxox

Swallowing, I take a second to compose myself before withdrawing the contents with shaky hands. The white apron is bloody tiny, and will barely cover my tits, let alone the fact it opens at the back. There is a small cap for my head and a pair of purple heels that I will break my damn neck in.

How the fuck did he find these so quickly?

I don’t give myself time to think. I shimmy out of my overalls but leave my thong on; he didn’t say anything about underwear. Smirking to myself, I put the apron on, not surprised I have mega side boob, or the fact that one of my tits won’t stay contained in the skimpy material, and walk toward my painting stuff.

Standing back, I look at the graffiti on the wall that I use as a scale with my paintbrush resting on my bottom lip. Moving forward, I start the outline of the Holden EH, and then I’ll move onto the Ford Mustang after that.

I don’t know how long I work on the mural, as I’m consumed by the art and allowing my creative outlet out to play, that I don’t hear, see, or feel Damon until he wraps his arms around my waist and his scent wafts up, startling me.