She pulls her towel more securely around her. “Boys don’t really interest me.” Her head jerks back when she realizes her error. “I mean, b-besides Mason. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I drawl.
“And speaking of Mason…” Her swallow is audible, her focus back on my bare torso. “You probably shouldn’t be in my room right now without a shirt on. I-I’m in a towel. Someone could get the wrong idea.”
“What idea is that?”
“That you and I are…”
I bend my head, pressing my mouth to her ear. “Dying to fuck each other?”
“Oh man,” she complains. “You had to say it out loud, didn’t you?”
“We’re both thinking it, Lyssa. Both feeling it.” I’m suddenly desperate to get the truth out of her. I don’t want to goad her into betraying my son’s trust, but this whole situation is absurd. We’re aching for each other and can’t give in because of their damn charade. I resent anything and everything that is keeping me from Lyssa. My body, my heart, my mind all know she’s mine. The universe sent her to me and I hate the fucking obstacle in our path to being together. Obliterating obstacles is kind of my thing, but eliminating this one comes at a high price. “Got a question for you.”
“Okay,” she murmurs warily.
I point toward the still-open bedroom door. “Why are you and Mason sleeping in separate bedrooms?”
“He’s writing his econ paper!” Lyssa sputters.
I take hold of Lyssa’s towel where it’s knotted, using my hold to turn her around and pin her against the bedroom wall. “Lyssa…” I groan while looking her over, head to toe. “I’d fail the goddamn class before I lost one night of being balls deep in that little pussy.”
Her mouth forms an O, cheeks pink. “That’s no way to speak to a lady.”
“You going to pretend I’m not making you wet? That’s a lot of pretending for one day.” My lust takes control of my actions, one hand lifting to unknot her towel and throw it down on the floor. “Should we find out the truth?”
Lyssa gasps, pupils dilating with excitement. “Y-you can’t…” Her fingernails scrape through my chest hair, down to my stomach, before scrubbing back up, rubbing my pecs. “We can’t.”
“We could.” My mouth hovers above hers, so close I can taste her delicious breath. “If you were honest with me.”
She hesitates to respond, but she’s wetting my lips anxiously, begging without words for a kiss.
“Maybe you need some practice being honest with me, Lyssa.” I trail my fingertips over her hip to her belly button, teasing the soft skin there before venturing lower to the juncture of her thighs. When I part the folds of her pussy with my middle finger and wetness spills down past my knuckle to my palm, I almost come in my jeans. “You’re soaked, sweetness,” I growl, teasing the entrance of her cunt with the pad of my finger. “That’s an undisputable truth. Repeat it back to me.”
“I’m soaked,” she whimpers, arching her back off the wall, presenting me her lush tits. “I-I’m soaked. Can you…”
Yes. I’ll give you anything you want in this world. “Can I what, Lyssa?” I ask, rimming her clit with excess moisture and making her moan.
Her eyes beg me for relief in the most innocent way. Like she has no idea what relief entails. “Can you make the throbbing go away?”
It takes my last reserve of willpower not to yank her off the wall, throw her on the bed and mount her sweet body. To show her, yes, the hell I can. Over and over again. But her guileless question has just made something else very obvious. Something I hadn’t considered until now. “Are you a virgin, Lyssa?”
“Who me? No way!”
Irritated over another obvious lie, I crowd her against the wall. Hard. I stamp my mouth down over hers to trap any screams—then I push my middle finger inside her. “Ahhh, Christ,” I grit out, as soon as her cry of surprise fades. “This pussy here is as virgin as they come, sweetness. Tighter than fuck, just begging for me to take it on its maiden voyage.” I twist my finger until I find her G-spot and tease it. “Now, you’re going to practice being honest with John. Tell me you’re a tight, little virgin girl.”
Her head thrashes on the wall. “I…I’m…”
“Say it or I’ll let you keep throbbing.”
“No! No.” She licks her swollen lips. “I’m a tight, little virgin girl.”
My cock jerks painfully in my jeans. “No one’s been inside you.” Least of all my son.
“No one,” she sobs, running her hands up to my shoulders and clinging, her perfect pussy starting to pump and thrust against my hand. “John, please. Why do you make me feel like this?”
“I’m your man, Lyssa.” I lick the side of her neck, obsessed with the flutter of her pulse on my tongue. “And you’re the one I didn’t even know I was waiting for. Not until you had the nerve to walk into my house with this unfucked pussy and tell me it’s not mine. I should redden your ass.”