So fuck it. I love Ronin. Ford and Spencer are my friends. And that’s how it’s gonna stay unless I get information that requires a one-eighty.
I ease the Shrike Bikes truck off the freeway and take Park down to the stadium, then turn onto Blake and pull into our garage. Ronin is kicking back on one of his motorcycles, talking on the phone as he waits for me. He’s wearing old jeans, a black t-shirt, and his favorite black biker jacket. He waves as I pull in a few spaces down and then walks over to me as he ends the call. My eyes linger on his body as he approaches and I let out a sigh. God. This man is like my smile button. He appears and I smile.
I’m smiling right now.
I giggle a little at that and throw my arms around him, taking in his scent. He smells like Sexy Man. I’m not sure what that exactly is, but if sexy man smell has a dictionary entry, the picture next to it is Ronin Flynn. “Oh, my God—I missed you so much!”
He hugs me back and hums against the tender skin on my neck. “I think we should stay in the entire weekend.”
I pull back with a serious expression on my face. “And do what?”
He grabs my backpack and purse from the seat, then closes the truck door and takes my hand. “Ah, my schoolgirl needs to learn some patience, I think.” We take the elevator up and then he lets go of my hand and points to the dressing room. “There’s a hanger with your name on it. Meet you upstairs.”
I stand there as the heat creeps up my face, just watching his ass in the moonlight as he goes up the steps. “Chop, chop, Gidget. You’ll be spanked if you’re late.”
My chuckle comes out automatically as I make my way into the dressing room. There’s just one hanger on the rack and yup, sure enough, it’s got my name on it.
I peek inside and smile. Boys and their Catholic schoolgirl fantasies. He went to Catholic school, surely he must’ve gotten his fill?
I unzip the garment bag all the way and start pulling stuff out. There’s a crisp white button-up blouse, a little red tie, a red-and-black tartan skirt, and some very naughty black lingerie that probably came from the GIDGET contract. The whole ensemble is completed with a pair of six-inch stilettos.
I’m already feelin’ the heat down below.
I take it all over to the armless couches in the middle of the room and take off my clothes, tucking them back inside the garment bag. I line up each piece of lingerie and look it over real good. I’m not all that up on what does what, so this takes me a few minutes to figure out. I slide the black lace demi bra on and then the matching panties, garter, and stockings. I hook it all up, slip on the shoes, and check myself out in the mirror.
Not bad.
The schoolgirl stuff goes on next and by the time I’m all dressed, I’m a little sweaty and out of breath from all the anticipation.
Ronin and I do some roleplaying. Mostly that stupid cop stuff because I said I was checking to see if he was drunk when I got caught sniffing him back when we first met. It kinda stuck, and it’s fun, but we both end up laughing too much to continue the fantasy. Maybe I’ll try a little harder tonight.
I bite my lip as I exit the dressing room and climb the stairs to our apartment. I feel like I’ve been gone forever instead of just a week and my stomach gets a little flutter as I make my way down the hallway. I strain to listen for noise, but even Antoine and Elise’s apartment is quiet. When I get to the door I take a deep breath and straighten my blouse a little, pulling it down a bit to reveal some of my goods.
I decide to start the roleplay with a knock. I hold my breath as the click of fancy shoes sounds behind the door and then it opens. Ronin is wearing a gray suit coat, some gray slacks, a long black tie, and no shirt.
“My, my, Mr. Flynn. You certainly look handsome tonight. I feel underdressed.”
He waves me in. “If anything, Miss Corvus, you’re overdressed.”
I smile up at him and walk into the living room. We have no formal dining area, just a nook that connects the kitchen and the terrace sliders. But we do have a nice dark mahogany table and right now it’s filled with flickering white candles. No other lights are on in the entire apartment, so the glow is soft and golden.
“Well,” I say, turning to face Ronin, “there’s no room on the table for food, so we must not be eating dinner.”
He slides his hands around my waist and pulls my lower body tight against his, allowing my upper body to sway backwards slightly and pull the white shirt apart just the slightest bit. He peeks down and then finds my eyes. “Are you hungry for food?”
“No,” I whisper as I lean forward and lay my head on his shoulder. “I’m hungry for you.”
“How about dessert, then?”
“Mmmmm, maybe,” I purr into his neck. “What do you have in mind?”
He leans down and kisses me softly on the lips. It’s just a feather of a touch, just the slightest bare flutter of his lips against mine, just enough to create a spark of heat and then leave the cool emptiness as he pulls back. “I made a promise to you a while back and I figured it was time to make good.”
“What promise?” I ask with a stupid grin, frantically racking my brain for what he might have in mind. Ronin is not an easy guy to predict, that’s for sure. Whenever I think I know what he’s doing, especially when it comes to the erotic photoshoots or sex, I’m almost always wrong.
I love this about him because it means he thinks about me. A lot.
Even over the summer when he was hesitant to get more adventurous with our lovemaking he always kept me on my toes with small things. A command to come before we climaxed together. A kiss in a totally unexpected place, like that dent behind my knee. Or hoisting me up against the wall of the shower, my legs wrapped tight around his middle—and then not fucking me, but instead talking me into an orgasm with the most amazing combination of words ever strung together in the French language.
Of course I didn’t understand a single thing he said, he could’ve been reciting our grocery list for all I knew, but it totally got me off.
“Want me to show you?”
A shiver runs up my back as his fingertips slip around across my jawline and caress the nape of my neck.
“Please, yes.”
He grins. “I love it when you say please.” His fingers leave my neck, trace down my shoulder, then my ribs, and finally grab my hand. He laces us together and pulls me with him down the hallway towards the bedroom.
“Dessert is in the bedroom?” I giggle a little.
He looks back at me with half-hooded lids and simply nods.
Our bedroom is also lit up with candles, only in here they are all on tall candelabras. Some are placed on the dressers and tables so they reach halfway up the wall, the shadow of flames caressing the ceiling. Others are on the floor and light the dark hardwood below my feet.
On the nightstand is a bowl of cherries and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. Two flutes are already filled with golden bubbles.
“Yes, Mr. Flynn, this is definitely dessert.” I look up at him and his blue eyes are sparkling in the candlelight. “Would you like to hear how I did on my math test?”
“No, I’m not at all interested in your grades tonight, Miss Corvus.”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “You’re not?” I look down at my schoolgirl outfit and then back up at him. He’s not smiling. “Then what’s with the outfit? I thought you had something to teach me?”
“I do,” he says softly, pulling me towards him. “I’m going to teach you what it means to be loved by me.”
And then his mouth takes over. Both hands cup my face, pulling me into him, then one slides behind my neck while the other slides over my throat, pauses to palm it and then falls to my breast and palms that as well. My hands slip to the front of his pants and his cock comes to life as soon as I glide my fingertips over it. He groans and then his hand removes mine. “Not yet,” he breathes into my mouth.