A whimper escapes me. My thighs are shaking by the time he’s finished speaking. I can barely find the wherewithal to say, “Yet?”
His low growl sends a fresh dose of lust through me. “I’m going to go to hell for taking what can never really belong to a poor man like me. But you come to Southie tomorrow, beauty? See if I can fucking stop myself from getting on top of you.”
“I’ll be there,” I manage, hanging up, before I do something pitiful like moan into the receiver. Oh my God. This guy…he makes me feel like someone else. Someone better. With more agency. More excitement. And I don’t want the feeling to end.
I need North Whitlock with every ounce of my being.
Turning around so my backside is reflected in the mirror, I drop my panties. Taking a deep breath for courage, I shake out my hair, arch my spine and snap a picture of me naked from behind, just a hint of side boob peeking out on the left.
A text comes in from North immediately.
Jesus Christ. Can’t believe you sent me this. You’re so fucking hot. Just wait until I get my tongue between those buns.
My mouth drops open.
Is that a thing? I text back.
And then a picture comes in and my jaw drops even lower.
North. No shirt. A white towel wrapped around his waist. Eyes hooded. Muscles on full display. The picture of male prowess and confidence. He’s more than just hot. He’s a man. He’s a…workhorse. Is that why my private flesh and inner thighs are turning wet and pliant?
My gaze tracks lower then and I see the thick protrusion against the front of his towel. His erection. It’s enormous. Did I give him that?
My question is answered a moment later when he texts me again. Look what you do to me.
Pretty sure I’ll be looking until I see you tomorrow, I reply back.
Jesus…same. Please be safe for me until then, Gracie, North says. Until I can protect my beauty myself.
I will, I reply. And then I collapse onto the floor in a fit of squeals, willing time to move faster. More eager for tomorrow to arrive than I’ve ever been for anything in my entire life.
“North Whitlock, I’m yours,” I say in a heartfelt whisper to the empty bathroom.
Six
North
I tell myself she’s not really coming. That this is all a dream.
I’m worried if I get my hopes up too high, they’ll speed down from the sky and crush me.
After waking up early to clean the entire apartment, I’m standing at the kitchen window waiting for an expensive car to pull up and park on my block. I have no idea what she drives, I just know it’s probably new—and it’s probably going to stick out like a sore thumb. Honestly, I don’t care. Like I told Grace, money is going to be an issue between us. Pretending it won’t be is just foolish and shortsighted. But right now, I don’t care about who has more spending cash, I just want to see her. I just want to touch her.
Living in this cramped apartment with my sister, I don’t get a lot of alone time. But ever since Grace sent me that picture of her tight ass, I’ve locked myself in my bedroom and crammed my cock into my fist three times, panting into my pillow when I come. Christ. I’m half hard again right now remembering the taste of come on her thighs. How she kisses sweetly once second, dirty the next, keeping me on my toes. If she actually shows up here, it means something. It’s important. This won’t just be a one-time thing where I drive her home, hook up, and leave. It’s the start of something.
My gut tells me it’s something big.
Bigger than me or her or zeroes in a bank account.
A silver Porsche stops in front of my building and all I can do is shake my head. That thing is going to get keyed to hell. Unless I let everyone know the owner of the Porsche is with me. With that in mind, I stride out of the building, down the flight of stairs and out into the muted Sunday sunlight. And that’s when she steps out of the car.
My step falters, heart smashing helplessly into my jugular.
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck, I’m gone for this girl.
And she’s looking at me the same way over the roof of her low sports car. A car I wouldn’t be able to give her in a million years. She’s flushed, outrageously gorgeous, her blue eyes naked with yearning. I’ve got to be reflecting it right back at her. There is no way to hide something this strong. I’m already moving in her direction, faster than before, starved for the sight of her up close. When I round the hood and see she’s wearing a short, white skirt and a black, tucked-in top that molds to her tits, all of the blood in my brain travels south.