“Bry…” I lick my lips. “You. I’d choose you. I barely know him.”
A memory of his mouth on mine, of his strong body covering me, his ragged breathing, fills my mind.
“Have you kissed him?”
“Yeah.” It comes out without input from my rational brain.
This is it, I think. The moment when she’ll pull her clothes back on and walk out, never to come back. What girl wants to know that the guy she’s getting undressed for has kissed the guy she’s been pining for?
But like every time, I underestimated her. For some reason, she smiles.
And drops her bra.
She climbs back on my lap before I can say another word, and I don’t even have time to complain she’s still wearing her panties because she’s tugging on my briefs and curling her small hand around my cock.
“Come with me to the hospital next week? There’s an event for the kids.”
Am I supposed to be able to talk right now? “Yeah,” I groan. “Fuck, yeah.”
She smiles and presses her lips to mine, then draws back, squeezing and pulling on my cock, and I gaze down at the erotic sight of her dainty hand jacking me off. Her pretty tits are right in front of me, too, and I’m torn between watching them rise and fall with her breathing and watching her work my dick.
She’s goddamn sexy. And a fast learner. She uses her thumb to play with the piercing, and my whole body tenses, sparks of pain-pleasure shooting up my spine.
“Oh fuck, yeah.” I lift my hips, pushing into her hand, and try to think what…? “Here.”
I grip her hip with one hand, push the other under her panties. She gasps and squirms, and holy hell, she’s hot and wet. My finger slides along her seam, back and forth, finding her little swollen nub and pressing on it.
“Rid!” She’s trembling. I didn’t realize she was so close to coming, too, and my dick jerks in the hold of her fingers. “God…”
She puts a hand on my arm, steadying herself, and starts to move, pressing down on my hand.
We rock together, finding a frantic rhythm, her hand jerking on my cock, and my thumb slipping in her slick, both of us uncoordinated and clumsy in this position, but both so aroused it doesn’t matter.
She comes first with a long moan, her hand on my arm clenching, her breath stuttering, and I lose control a second later, spilling over her fingers and all over my chest.
I feel like I’ve been shot to the heart.
Which reminds me of Ryan pressing a hand to his chest right before fleeing last time. Did he feel that way, too?
***
“And what is Ryan’s full name?” I ask her later, lazily tracing a pattern on her arm as we lie on the sofa, dozing.
“Hm?” She lifts her lashes. “Ryan Prince Dawson.”
Holy shit. “A prince, huh? No wonder you’re so set on him.”
She smiles and yawns. “That wasn’t the only reason.”
“What else, then?” Sick fascination. Wins every time.
What does he have I don’t?
“He’s handsome.”
Okay, I noticed that. “And?”
“He’s so focused on his work. So serious.”