reached for another crawfish from the tiny mountain before her. She cracked it open in sexy abandon, ready to suck the head again, raising one eyebrow in challenge as if to say, ‘what are you going to do about it’.
He knew damn well what he was going to do about it. He was going to take her back to the hotel and fuck every single one of her dirty, overactive brain cells out. Before she could bring the briny treat to her mouth, he growled. Her big brown eyes widened in surprise.
“Grace, if you don’t want to get fucked in this restaurant I suggest you get up now.” He was on his feet, not caring if the entire restaurant saw the bulge in his pants. The waitress was by his side immediately.
“Don’t tell me you guys are ready to go that fast. You just sat down.”
Brett took out his wallet and pushed a large bill into her hand, not saying anything. Grace looked from him to the waitress with apparent sympathy as she wiped her hands, grabbed her purse and shuffled out of the booth.
Smiling halfheartedly, she chimed in, “The crawfish was terrific, but we are, um, late for something. Thanks for the great service.” Brett pulled on her hand, put her in front of him and moved them swiftly towards the entrance, leaving the stunned waitress behind. Yes, he was coming off as an asshole and he was sure Grace would lay into him later but the hard-on he was sporting was cutting off the blood to his brain, making conversation difficult. They were near the door when a woman who appeared to be in her late sixties with white hair pulled on his arm.
“Sir, I don’t mean to bother you but, are you Brett “The Wolf” McAllister?”
Fuck, this was no time for fans. He had been out of the business for nearly three years now. He honestly didn’t know what to say. His dick was throbbing and all he could think of were the four letter words he was going to have Grace shouting when they got back to the room. As if she could read his thoughts. Grace again spoke up.
“Yes, ma’am, he’s ‘The Wolf.’”
The woman’s eyes swung from him to Grace. As if seeing an ally in Grace, she directed her next question to her.
“Can you take a picture of us together? My grandson was a big fan of ‘The Wolf.’ He was heartbroken when he retired.”
Grace looked to him briefly as if to say snap out of it and say something to this lady . Seeing he was unwilling or incapable of cooperating, she said, “I would love to take a picture of you two. Where is your camera?”
“It’s in my purse; give me just a moment.”
She took a few steps to a nearby table where the rest of her dinner party smiled and waved at him. He nodded his head to them. Grace smiled and turned towards him talking to him through her teeth.
“Brett, baby, take off your jacket and drape it over your arm in front of you. That way you won’t scare the hell out of this woman with that hard-on you’re sporting and so you won’t scare her poor grandson when he get this picture. She already thinks you are crazy.”
Grace was a flurry around him fixing his collar and dusting her hands down his chest. Her hands felt incredible through his cornflower blue button-down shirt, removing his jacket and putting it in his hands.
“One photo, Grace, then we leave,” he growled. He hated he could not pull out of caveman-mode, but shit, it was what it was at this point.
She shook her head in understanding, never breaking eye contact with him. He saw the shallowness of her breathing as her beautiful breasts moved up and down and the way the vein pulsed at the side of her neck. She shivered under his sexual gaze. She felt it too. Good girl.
The woman came back to them, handing the camera to Grace. She fidgeted with it, trying to show Grace how it worked. They finally got it together and the woman came to stand next to him, holding on to his arm. She had a remarkably strong grip for someone who looked so frail.
“Say cheese.” Grace’s sing-song voice
He knew damn well what he was going to do about it. He was going to take her back to the hotel and fuck every single one of her dirty, overactive brain cells out. Before she could bring the briny treat to her mouth, he growled. Her big brown eyes widened in surprise.
“Grace, if you don’t want to get fucked in this restaurant I suggest you get up now.” He was on his feet, not caring if the entire restaurant saw the bulge in his pants. The waitress was by his side immediately.
“Don’t tell me you guys are ready to go that fast. You just sat down.”
Brett took out his wallet and pushed a large bill into her hand, not saying anything. Grace looked from him to the waitress with apparent sympathy as she wiped her hands, grabbed her purse and shuffled out of the booth.
Smiling halfheartedly, she chimed in, “The crawfish was terrific, but we are, um, late for something. Thanks for the great service.” Brett pulled on her hand, put her in front of him and moved them swiftly towards the entrance, leaving the stunned waitress behind. Yes, he was coming off as an asshole and he was sure Grace would lay into him later but the hard-on he was sporting was cutting off the blood to his brain, making conversation difficult. They were near the door when a woman who appeared to be in her late sixties with white hair pulled on his arm.
“Sir, I don’t mean to bother you but, are you Brett “The Wolf” McAllister?”
Fuck, this was no time for fans. He had been out of the business for nearly three years now. He honestly didn’t know what to say. His dick was throbbing and all he could think of were the four letter words he was going to have Grace shouting when they got back to the room. As if she could read his thoughts. Grace again spoke up.
“Yes, ma’am, he’s ‘The Wolf.’”
The woman’s eyes swung from him to Grace. As if seeing an ally in Grace, she directed her next question to her.
“Can you take a picture of us together? My grandson was a big fan of ‘The Wolf.’ He was heartbroken when he retired.”
Grace looked to him briefly as if to say snap out of it and say something to this lady . Seeing he was unwilling or incapable of cooperating, she said, “I would love to take a picture of you two. Where is your camera?”
“It’s in my purse; give me just a moment.”
She took a few steps to a nearby table where the rest of her dinner party smiled and waved at him. He nodded his head to them. Grace smiled and turned towards him talking to him through her teeth.
“Brett, baby, take off your jacket and drape it over your arm in front of you. That way you won’t scare the hell out of this woman with that hard-on you’re sporting and so you won’t scare her poor grandson when he get this picture. She already thinks you are crazy.”
Grace was a flurry around him fixing his collar and dusting her hands down his chest. Her hands felt incredible through his cornflower blue button-down shirt, removing his jacket and putting it in his hands.
“One photo, Grace, then we leave,” he growled. He hated he could not pull out of caveman-mode, but shit, it was what it was at this point.
She shook her head in understanding, never breaking eye contact with him. He saw the shallowness of her breathing as her beautiful breasts moved up and down and the way the vein pulsed at the side of her neck. She shivered under his sexual gaze. She felt it too. Good girl.
The woman came back to them, handing the camera to Grace. She fidgeted with it, trying to show Grace how it worked. They finally got it together and the woman came to stand next to him, holding on to his arm. She had a remarkably strong grip for someone who looked so frail.
“Say cheese.” Grace’s sing-song voice
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