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His Hellcat(6)

By:Rory Reynolds



Focusing on flipping the sandwiches again even though it’s completely unnecessary, I bark my response. “Just soup and grilled cheese. Nothing fancy.”

“Oh.” Her reply is timid and there isn’t a single sign of the earlier feistiness I witnessed on the porch. I instantly feel like a dickhead and almost hope Drake finds out about it and kicks my ass.

Having stalled as long as I can, I slide the sandwiches onto the plates and ladle out the soup. Turning to the table with her steaming bowl and plate, I almost drop them to the ground when I see that Blake is wearing my nearly threadbare terrycloth robe and I assume nothing more.

Holy fucking shit.

My cock is instantly rock hard and throbbing behind my zipper. If I were a dog I would be humping her leg right now. Hell, I’m tempted to hump her leg anyway. I keep telling my body to move and put the food on the table, but even though my synapses are firing away, my body is frozen. My eyes are glued to her lush curves and I swear my mouth is watering at the thought of diving between those milky white thighs I got a glimpse of earlier.

“Sorry, I…um…I guess this is probably yours.” Her hands sweep down her body indicating the robe. “I realized after my shower I didn’t have anything else to wear.”

She looks down at her feet and she blushes. I swear to everything that is holy, she is the sexiest thing I have ever seen. If I didn’t already crave her, I would be totally lost at the vulnerable sight she presents standing there in my robe with pink cheeks. She’s a total package. Feisty, yet sensitive, and her body is beyond words.

“Of course, it’s okay. No worries, just caught me off guard is all. After you eat, I will find you something more comfortable to put on.”

Something with many more layers to hide that incredible body of yours, I finish to myself while setting her food down.

She quickly takes a seat, pulling her legs up in the chair underneath her before tucking into the simple meal. “Mmm, this is awesome,” she says around a mouthful of melted cheese. “I can’t remember the last time I had a grilled cheese sandwich.”

I can’t help staring at her throat as her muscles move to work the food down. Even that simple motion is tempting. I want to lick and suck a trail down her throat to her chest then… No!

Dammit, I can’t be thinking about these things, especially not with this woman. I need to focus on something else, anything else.

“This is one of my favorites.” I bite into my own sandwich savoring the cheesy goodness. “I figured you could use some comfort food and this is about as comforting as a person can get.”

She giggles at that and it’s not one of those annoying little giggles girls do when they are flirting. This is a cute, shy, and completely unexpected giggle. One that I can’t help but return with a light laughter of my own.

“My fiancé,” her face blanks and I see a flash of that pissed off woman I found on the porch, “my ex-fiancé,” she amends, “would have never allowed something as simple as this to grace our dining table.”

“He sounds like a piece of work.”

“You have no idea,” she says. A sad look crosses her face before she shutters the expression.

“So tell me.” Not liking that look of unhappiness and determined to know what the fucker did, I can’t stop myself from asking about him. I convince myself it’s okay because Drake would want me to take care of his sister, but if I’m being honest I want her to tell me for selfish reasons. I want to know everything about this girl. She’s beautiful and feisty. Seeing her on that porch ranting and raving showed her inner fire, but then the vulnerability she showed me with her tears made me want to wrap her in my arms and never let go.

Holding her close while she cried was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. Every sob was wrenched from deep inside her. I could feel her hurt and it tore at me. I wanted to demand she tell me what happened and rip apart whoever or whatever caused that kind of pain.

Sighing deeply, her hands fall to her lap and she wrings her fingers together.

“It’s a lot of things, really.”

She takes another deep breath and I can tell she’s collecting her thoughts, weighing what she wants to say before letting herself open up. I stay silent, giving her the time she needs to decide what she wants to share.

“The thing that ended us was me coming home to find him fucking my best friend in our bed. I guess in a lot of ways I should be happy that he so epically fucked up. I’d still be with him otherwise.” She pauses again, shoring herself up before continuing.

“Our relationship started out great. He was everything I thought I wanted—successful, handsome, and he treated me like I was the best thing to ever happen to him. I’m not sure when things changed. He started picking at me—little things at first, like he didn’t think my shirt flattered my figure or my skirt was too tight.”

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