Promises Promises

Chapter 4

Spencer's house was such a palace of the male aura. Minimal decor, sensible furniture, the least amount of dishes one could possibly have in their cabinets, and it always smelled like laundry detergent.

But there was something distinctly homey there as well. I couldn't put my finger on it.

It was a feeling almost, a kind of nostalgia that had your mind wandering back to birds singing and Saturday morning cartoons, scraping the sugar off your teeth after eating a bowl of Lucky Charms for breakfast, and you had nothing going on that day except whatever your heart desired.

It was the kind of feeling I expected to find at my mother's house, the home I grew up in. And once upon a time, it was there, I think. When Dalton was alive and Dante was still good. But those days were over. Lately, I only felt it at Spencer's house, and that irritated me beyond belief.

I'd look at his neutral walls and bare kitchen, wondering how on earth I could feel so much in a place with so little. In the bathroom, my eyes would fixate on his dollar store toothpaste and off brand toilet paper, and I'd wonder where the room got the audacity to feel like such a luxury.

Then there was the matter of his backyard, filled with perfect hammock trees that he completely took for granted. Ugh.

His house was full of comforts that were hard to duplicate, and I hated him for it sometimes. However, at the moment, my eyes were fixed on his headboard, and none of the other stuff seemed to matter.

It was such a nice headboard, and I could never hate Spencer Lovejoy.

"If you keep moving like that, I'm going to come." His strangled voice flew into my ears, hit me right between the legs, and kept going until my whole body sang with sensation.

"Isn't that the point?" I glanced down at him, hands braced on the headboard as I rode his cock. My skin was hot and slick, limbs tingly and spent. 

Spence's hands tightened on my hips as he guided my body over his in perfect rhythm, rough and intentional, putting me exactly where he wanted me. "Depends on how long you want this to last."

Hmm, the best kind of quandary.

It was that thing where I wanted it to last forever because of how good it felt. But exercising the power of my movement, and the sultry hold I had on his vulnerability, made it so fucking tempting to finish him off as fast as I could. Just for the hell of it, to say I could.

To make him weaker and weaker, inching him closer and closer to release, until he was putty in my hands—that feeling was like green lights the whole way home and no lines at the amusement park.

Spencer didn't last another ten seconds and neither did I. As the patterned wood grain of his headboard left marks on my hands, we fell apart together and I collapsed onto the bed at his side, both of us trying to catch our breath as the moment caught up with us.

I stared up at his ceiling fan, watching the blades spin as Spencer's hand wandered to my leg. His touch invited goosebumps to cover my skin, the next couple of minutes passing by slow and sensually. 

His fingers drew circles on the inside of my thigh, and the sound of his heartbeat was in my ear like a melody, but I couldn't stay for the rest of the song. I had to get out of there before he heard the harmony that beat in my own chest and made something more of it.

"I have to meet Leann," I muttered as I sat up and scooched over, swinging my legs to the side of the bed.

Spence reclaimed his hand with a sigh, but I felt his warm gaze on my back. "Where are you guys headed?"