Running my hands down my face, I groan a curse into my palms. “No, I take care of business when I have to.” I don’t want to leave it at that, like an invitation. I quickly follow with, “But I’m a grown man, not a hormone crazed teen. I have restraint.”
She smiles. Sexy as hell. “I’m sure it still gets a little hard. Pun totally intended there.”
This conversation, along with her fingers teasingly snaking below her white panties, needed to be over five minutes ago. “Mel, listen. You’re not right at this moment. Why don’t I fix you some food—” I cut off, knowing food is the last thing she can force herself to ingest. If she’s on coke or meth, her appetite is nonexistent.
But shit, I have to deter her attention to something. “TV. Let’s go watch TV until you start to come down.” I palm my forehead. “Shit. You don’t have one. You have really got to get a TV. And some other stuff around here to keep you busy.”
Her smil
e only widens. “Christ. Do I scare you that badly? I’m not forcing myself on you, guy. I’m just pleasuring myself. My hands will remain on me, I promise. That shouldn’t bother you, right?”
My jaw clenches as I watch her arch her back, angling herself into a better position, her hand moving underneath her underwear. Why the fuck am I watching. I attempt to get up, needing to walk the solid-as-a-rock hard-on off, but her bare foot springs out and traps me, then she lays her leg across my lap.
“Don’t leave me like this,” she says, all breathy. “I feel like something’s clawing beneath my skin. I just need a little release.”
Hell. I push my back into the cushion, look at the plain wall in front of me. “Mel, I can’t let you do something you’ll regret when you sober up. You’re high as a fucking kite right now, and tomorrow…” I sigh. Even trying to rationalize with her is a waste of breath.
She moans, and the sound curls in my stomach, stretching my skin. I’m strung tight, and as she arches her back, her thin T-shirt pulling tight against her breasts, her nipples peaking, all I can do is stare. Miserable like a son-of-a-bitch.
“I won’t regret shit,” she says. “Just relax.”
And I try. I try so hard to calm my racing heart. Curb the intense need to feel her. But I’m mentally climbing the walls. I haven’t been this close to a woman—in this kind of situation—in what feels like forever. I’m like a fucking virgin getting a taste of something truly sexy and erotic for the first time.
Melody is the fucking sexiest creature in existence. She holds nothing back. Completely comfortable in her sexuality, and it’s turning me on more than any woman has ever turned me on before. Nothing to do with the fact that I’ve been celibate, wanting to release the tension. If I’d fucked every day up until now, I’d still be in total awe of her.
With deft movements, she wriggles out of her jeans. Kicks them to the side of the room. She brings her feet in, placing them directly below her bent, parted knees. My erection strains painfully against my jeans as I watch her pull her fitted shirt above her breasts. Fuck. She’s not even wearing a bra. She’s spread wide and touching herself, one hand working beneath her white panties and the other caressing her tits.
I have to reach down and adjust my aching cock. I move the hard sucker to lay against my stomach, but I just want to grab ahold and wear it out. Over and over. I imagine kneeling over her, watching her bring herself to climax, sexy as shit, and jacking my dick until I meet her there, coming all over her slick skin.
She moans again, and I squeeze my eyes closed. Fuck! My heart hammers hard in my chest, banging against the walls of my chest. My eyes spring open with her next throaty release. I can’t pull my gaze away from her. I’m going to go insane. Right here. Just literally lose my shit.
And as if she knows I’m at the brink, she begins to slide her underwear off her hips. Going in for the kill. Put me six feet under. Her panties drop to her ankles, and she spreads her thighs even wider, giving me a perfect view of her smoothly shaven pussy. It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
I’m a man trapped in the desert, begging for water. I’m a fucking pathetic waste of a human being desperate for redemption. I want to bury myself in her, balls fucking deep, until every sin is purged from my soul.
Her finger delicately slides inside, and I watch, hypnotized, as she expertly works it in and out. The side of her thumb massaging her clit, like she knows exactly what she likes…working herself over the edge. She uses her other hand to twist and tug at her pink nipple, her hips rocking upward, as if she’s begging for more penetration.
It’s so hot I have to tug at my jeans, slide my palms against my thighs, just to get some friction against my throbbing cock.
I clear my throat, suck in a mouthful of air. I haven’t breathed or swallowed this whole time, I’m sure. “Mel…I’m begging you. You have to stop.” I’m pleading. Because if she keeps at it one second longer, I’m going to drop my pants and fuck her right here.
And I don’t want to. Fuck, I don’t want to be that guy. I turn my thoughts to that bastard Jesse, giving myself a mental splash of cold water, and my raging boner eases some. But only some. I refuse to take advantage of her in this state. She’s clearly riding a pure bliss high on crank.
Her eyes open, her movements halted. “If you don’t get me off, I’m going to hurt so badly, Boone. I promise, it will be bad.”
But she doesn’t give me the time to refuse her tempting offer. She sits up, gets to her knees, and maneuvers herself closer to me. “You don’t have to do anything,” she says. Swinging a leg over me, she straddles my lap, her tits right in my face. I can feel the heat of her pussy right on top of my dick. “I’ll do all the work. Just look at me.”
I can’t help but look at her. I’m shocked in place. I’m a sex-starved, horny bastard begging for a lap dance. My hands welding to the back of the couch, stuffed into the crevice, so I can’t touch her.
Her gaze traps mine as she begins to move on top of me, her hips thrusting forward and backward. She bears down on my cock, and a sharp hiss escapes my mouth. Her lips quirk into a knowing grin. She loves this. She’s getting off on the sheer fact that she’s driving me crazy.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to wear jeans for a lap dance?”
I feel my forehead crease, but then I realize what she’s doing. She reaches beneath her to unsnap my jeans…but I unclench one of my hands and bring it forward, trapping her wrist. “If you do that, I will hate myself later.”
The severity in my tone must convince her, because she slowly moves her hand away, then places both hands on my shoulders. I release a pent-up breath and move my hand back behind me to its safe place.
“Okay,” she says, low, soft. “The friction kind of feels good, anyway.” Then she’s grinding hard against me, rocking her hips, fucking hot as hell. Her tits bounce with her movements, and she grazes one of her nipples across my lips. The feel of her softness goes right to my throbbing cock.