Free Bent (The Gifted Series) by Elbie Sinclair Page B

been polite, turned his back while she showered, offering privacy, but the close proximity of her naked body meshing with his wild imagination was insta-wood. 
                  He watched her workout daily, and damn, a sheen of sweat never looked so sinful on a chic, but in this bleak and painful moment, he didn’t want sex in the equation.  He realized that he needed someone to hold.  He’d had a suck-ass day.  His face had been beat to a pulp, his hand had been hammered to a pulp, and he was now missing two fingernails, so lying in the dark next to Joss’ sweet smelling body was a mere taste of heaven in this current hell.
                  “Would you share a happy memory with me?” she asked quiet and hesitant.
                  He fought the urge to pull out her rubber band and run the fingers of his good hand through her long silky locks.  Call him a Nancy, but he’d wanted to do strange girly shit like this all week: brush her hair and run his hands through it, rub the silkiness across his face. Hell, he’d probably paint her freakin‘ toenails is she let him. 
                  These urges were knew territory and part of him resisted.  Before this, his only desire with a woman had been to grab a fist full of long hair—any color would do—and pull hard while he fucked her to sated collapse. 
                  Mr. Dick twitched, so he quickly dropped the thought of fisting Joss’ blonde locks.  He answered, “Sure.  I guess. Any requests?”
                  “Something normal that has nothing to do with the gifted world.”
                  Unconsciously, his hand flexed on her stomach; her hand then settled over his.  Although his other hand throbbed in agony, the one she grazed with her own tingled with anticipation he hadn’t felt since the first feel he copped on Rachel Sanders.  Drop the sex thoughts , he ordered, but man, Rach had a nice rack for a fourteen year old .
                  He cleared his throat. “I used to be a cross dresser.”
                  She stiffened, then a giggle cut through the darkness.  Ol’ Dickie-boy below twitched again, and he suddenly wanted to make her giggle again.
                  “Ladies knickers and all?” she teased softly.
                  “Nah … thongs don’t let my boys breathe.  Gotta keep those swimmers swimming.”
                  More throaty giggles.  His hand flexed with excitement as her stomach tightened through her laughter.  Although she was too thin, she was definitely cut, and he could only imagine how perfect she’d look smack dab in the middle of an orgasm—muscles flexed, body shaking, a delicious sheen of sweat that he wanted to lick.
                  He clenched his teeth as his cock hardened. Christ, his hand wasn’t the only appendage in agony.  His dick was now a throbbing granite rod. The little fucker wanted to fuck her.
                  She countered unconvinced, “You’re pulling a piss, right?”
                  “There you go with that piss pullin’ business again.”
                  She gripped his hand, giving it a squeeze as they both chuckled.  She then laid her fingers over the top of his.  It felt so right that he widened his fingers then wrapped them around hers and intertwined their hands.  She didn’t dispute his action, so he continued, “I’m not one to brag but I’m a damn fine-looking female.  At least that’s what my little sisters told me when they played Hollywood make-up artist and donned me in the latest spring fashion from Milan.”
                  “Don’t say their names,” she whispered urgently.  “I don’t think we’re tapped, but—”
                  “You never know,” he finished.  Though it didn’t matter if he said their names or not.  The bastard,