I shot him a look that I hoped conveyed “not interested,” but after more shots than a fistful of fingers, I wasn’t so sure that was the message he received.
He shifted his body and the metal became more obvious in the darkness. I could see the shadow of a stud on the underside of his crown, not to be outdone by the stud pushing through the tip of his shaft like a crown. I didn’t know whether to cringe from the pain I knew that must have inflicted, or to wonder what it felt like to have that sliding against my walls. When did I become so horny? It seemed I couldn’t sit in the same room as him without my skin crawling with need for him to touch me. I just wanted relief. My skin was clammy and muscles knotted while everything inside me wound tight with desire.
Joel sat back on the couch with arms spread wide and legs open enough for me to gaze, undeterred, at him. It appeared he had no sense of modesty, and after the drinks I’d had, my decorum seemed to be swimming in the drunken pool right along with me. I won my next two turns—an occurrence that seemed like less than happenstance. There were only two options available to him—taking a shot or a kiss. His eyes lingered on me, and I nodded my head toward the bottle only to receive a smile.
“I’ll take a kiss.”
I shook my head trying to dislodge the rules that went along with his proposal, but I couldn’t quite remember, though it didn’t seem like it should have worked that way.
“That’s not the way it works. I don’t think? You shouldn’t be able to decide if I want to kiss you.”
“It didn’t hurt to try though, did it?”
“Take your drink.”
A couple losses later, Joel officially banned me from taking any more shots.
“You have to lose the bra sometime. Let’s have it.”
With Joel being so uninhibited, I felt a current of defiance run through me like a live-wire coursing from his end of the couch over to where I sat. How long would he be able to resist me while I sit merely two feet away with nothing between us but uncoordinated hands and legs and twisted limbs?
“I think this means I won,” I said as my fingers met in the middle of my back to unsnap my bra. The lace of my bra scratched against my bare arms, reminding me of every naked inch available to not only Joel’s eyes but his touch, his tongue. My eyes followed the fabric’s descent to the ground, unaware of Joel’s movements leading him so close that my arm brushed his when I moved to refold my hands over my breasts.
Chapter Six
“Is that what you think? Cause from where I’m sitting, I’d say I’ve won this round.” The look in his eyes speared me to the back of the couch, where I was at his mercy. I watched him beyond half-mast eyes, the way his muscles belied the tension simmering beneath the cool facade he’d mastered. The hitch in his shoulders told of his intentions long before the first touch of his hands on my ankles. Those green eyes watched me in turn, looking or expecting a reaction, I wasn’t sure, but whatever he saw there encouraged him to continue. His hands moved over me like silk sheets between freshly shaved legs. I could feel every imperfection of his palm, the callouses that confirmed his passion for fitness, the smooth skin interrupted by a raised line that was most likely a scar. My mind obsessed over every detail, pocketing away every feeling like a dog burying a bone for a rainy day. He tugged on my ankles, unfastening my knees and leaving me completely open to his perusal. My legs were thrown across his lap, the coarse hair of his legs tickling me as he slid me across his thighs until my butt was flush with his hip. His hands skipped up to my thigh, giving a reassuring squeeze before trailing up the side of my waist.
“Do you want to hear a secret?”
He leaned in close, his eyes glittering mischievously while his hands burned hot like an incinerator. His mouth was so close, I could absorb his words on my tongue, but far enough away that I couldn’t taste them.
“Uh huh,” I mumbled. My mind was trying to focus on the words coming from his mouth and not the need that he’d pulled to the surface of my skin like a rush of blood trying to find the nearest exit.
“My dick’s been hard for the last two days, aching to be sheathed by this tight, hot pussy that feels like heaven when I’m inside it. I think I literally saw a white light when I came with you wrapped around me.”
“I’m sure that had more to do with the alcohol you consumed.”
“Did you think I was drunk? Baby, it takes a hell of a lot more than one drink to put me under, and even blitzed out of my mind, I would remember this.”
His fingers brushed the outside of my opening—close enough to feel the heat from his hands, but not enough to sate the trembling of my core.
Taking himself in one hand, he stroked the length of his erection with every word, “Tell me you don’t want to take this for a ride and I’ll close up shop and keep him locked up for however long we’re stuck together, but tell me now, otherwise I’m taking you to the room and fucking you so hard you’ll think you’re a contortionist.” He took long, hard pulls of his shaft, his dick jumping and pulsing with every stroke. I watched in utter fascination of the barbell that hypnotized me every time his fist closed over the tip.
His other hand held firm against my neck, keeping me in place as his lips closed around mine. He licked the seam of my mouth, begging me to part my lips to receive his tongue that licked so soft and gentle, yet anything but tentative. It felt like his tongue knew the map of my mouth, taking the perfect route to have me parting against his lips in no time. I forgot all about the question he asked and let his mouth lead my body. He thrust his hips into his enclosed fist, and I found my hands seeking him out, tracing the contours of his body—every muscled mountain and low valley, from one muscle to the next.
Our tongues tangled, and I became emboldened either from the alcohol or contact high. I gripped his thigh, pulling him closer and trailed lower with my other hand. In some ways it was like the first time all over again, except my body seemed to remember his even though my mind was just as insecure and unsure as if I’d just met him. Where I was insecure, Joel was assured in every touch, every caress of those soft lips brushing mine. The hand that he’d used to stroke himself folded around my hand, returning us to his turgid member.
He took over, guiding me to stroke his erection in tandem.
“You’re making a mess of the couch, you know. This juicy pussy is begging to be filled. Feel how hard I am for you. I would hate to disappoint this cunt of yours.” His thumb parted my lips, and he hooked the tip of his finger inside me like I was cattle to be lassoed.
“All you have to do is give me one word, Blaire. One word, and I’m all yours. What’s it going to be, Blaire?”
There was an edgy need coating his words. His finger continued strumming me like he was playing solo at the symphony and then he hit that one spot that made me feel like I could sing soprano with the amount of euphoria that overwhelmed me. I could barely breathe for fear that any more movement would set me off. Joel did that to me—made me feel alive, on edge, and filled with a need I never knew existed. It was like he was claiming my body as his, and I had no more say in how I responded than I had control over the weather.
The answer was the easiest decision I’d made in a long time. I set aside all thoughts of what this was supposed to be and how little we knew of each other and found myself as lost in desire as that first night I saw him at the bar with his fist wrapped around the glass as if he could crush it to dust with a twitch of his wrist.