We made it to her front door, but she didn't move to open it.
"You going to invite me in?"
"Depends on how you want to act."
"Open your door, Victory."
She rolled her eyes and put her hand on her hip. “Jett, I don’t answer to you.”
“You answer to anyone?”
Her eyes glazed over, like she got lost in her own head. Then she looked down to grab her keys and, I assume, to break eye contact with me. “Everyone answers to someone or something.”
I leaned toward her, hoping she would continue her train of thought. I wanted to know why she had that melancholy tone all of a sudden, why her hands shook when she put the key in the lock, why her eyes didn’t meet mine for a couple more seconds.
She turned to me, her smile was back in place, but it didn’t reach her eyes the way it normally did.
“Say you’ll be fun if you come in.”
“Don’t play games, woman.” I stepped toward the entrance.
She pulled the door close to her, blocking the way. “Say you’ll be fun.”
She enjoyed grating on my nerves. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as I sighed and felt my jaw tick. “I’ll be as fun as you want me to be.”
“Oh, I want all the fun.” She swung the door open wide and stepped back.
I walked in and wrapped my arm around her waist. “You better be worth the trouble.”
She started to respond, but I didn’t want to bicker. I dove into her mouth and kissed her hard, bit her bottom lip, slid a hand up her neck to hold her jaw as I ravaged that sweet taste out of her.
She moaned and encircled her arms around my neck before jumping up to wrap her legs around me too. I kicked the door closed and shoved her up against it.
She gasped when her back hit the wood. “A little rough?” she said in my ear.
“Next time you go out to a club in a dress like that, expect rough, Vick.”
She moaned and rolled her hips. My dick responded a little too fast for my liking. I swept my hand up her skirt and found she was wearing next to nothing under it. “How wet are you for me already?”
“Jett, don’t play games.”
“Games are what make things fun, aren’t they?” I dipped my hand in her underwear, and she hissed. “Tell me, how wet?”
Her honey-colored eyes simmered with heat. I wanted them on fire when I took her this time. I slipped a finger in her and felt her tighten around me.
“Damn, woman,” I sighed.
“Don’t stop.”
“A fucking nuclear bomb couldn’t get me to stop.” That glazed look in her eye, her body tightening everywhere, the sheen of sweat that made her body glisten—it all made me want to get her off as many times as she liked. When that woman orgasmed and writhed under me, I liked it too much.
It was why I had gone to the club tonight, left work at home, decided to play rather than focus on my responsibilities.
She panted as I sucked on her neck, and I slid another finger into her. She bucked a little and moaned.
I moved my mouth up to her ear, “How wet, Victory?”
She hummed and whispered, “So wet.”