"I fucking hate repeating myself, little one," I state, looking at that smooth, freckle-laced skin.
Her sleepy eyes lengthen as she smiles. "It's hot." She yawns. "Why are you so late?"
The countless number of whiskeys I've had at the club, plus the one I just threw back, suddenly creates havoc in my mind. When I narrow my eyes on her, she shuffles nervously.
"Menace?"
I set the whiskey down on the edge of the bar.
As I step slowly towards her, she holds her breath. I don't stop until my shoes graze her bare little toes, forcing her to arch her neck to keep my gaze.
I want to fucking eat her.
She swallows hard. My eyes drop to watch her mouth open and suck in air. Her chest beats harder in response. I lick my lips when I see her little nipples tighten. My hands tic with need. Need to touch those nipples. Twist them until she can feel the sensation rushing deep inside her pussy.
I raise my hand and place it over her chest. Her frenzied little heart beats away against it. I slide my hand up the column of her throat and band it, feeling the roll of her swallow against my palm. I squeeze to let her know she's mine.Fuck.I think I'm losing my restraint to that fucking whiskey.
Hazel eyes, speckled with gold and amber, peer up at me. "Max." My name is spoken like she's praying to me. Her voice is husky and desperate, deliciously so.
My cock swells at the sight before me and the scent seeping from her flesh. I grin when she places her little hand over mine, gently coaxing it away from her throat.
I let her.
She slowly turns to face the door and lifts her shaky little fingers, locking it tight. Staring at it, at her escape, she takes a big breath in. I still intimidate the little thing. My perfect little piece of purity. Barefoot. Near naked.
I walk up behind her. Pressing my body to her back, the feel of her uneven breaths the ultimate turn on, I cage her against the door. Her hands slide up, fingers flexing around the wood by her head. Lowering my nose, I inhale her. That sweet, aroused scent resonates in my cock, and I want to fuck her right here against the door.
As I drag the tips of my fingers down her sides, she tremors and squirms. My cock throbs. When I reach the seam of her tiny little shorts, I grip flesh, provoking little whimpers from her. I knead my hands up her sides, caressing the outline of her hips and the definition of her delicate ribs. Reaching her hands, I entwine our fingers and rub my cock against her arse, up and down the seam. The stimulation, although through fabric, drives me out of my fucking mind.
Her head drops back to my chest.
Little whimper-mixed pants spill from her.
One of my hands breaks away from hers, slides down her stomach, and into her shorts. I caress her smooth hairless pussy before I cup her, stroking my index finger along her perfect lips. Spreading them, I push inside and slide all the way in. She is slick with desire. I lick my lips, wanting that silky juice on my tongue, in my mouth, every-fucking-where.
My finger slides in and out, twisting and rubbing against the muscles enveloping them. Her broken pants get louder. Rocking her hips into my inward thrusts, she finds a rhythm with me.
"Max," she moans, her chin to the ceiling, her lips open wide.
"Do you like it when I touch you inside, little one?" I whisper in her ear.
She moans and it's sweet and husky and just,fuck me. "Yes."
I pick up pace, and she begins to pant so hard her breath leaves little steam marks on the door I have her pressed against. "You're beautiful. I'm sorry I'm late." When her thighs clench around my hand, I know she's moments away. But I want her orgasms rubbed out around my cock tonight, so I pull my finger from inside her. She curls in as if chasing the sensation I've just abruptly taken away from her. I grin even though she can’t see it. My little piece of purity, desperate to be finger fucked by me. Lifting my velvety slick finger to my mouth, I run it over my lips before sucking her off me.Fuck. As I lick my finger and then my lips, I rub my swollen cock against the silk of her pyjama shorts, wishing there was no fabric between us.
When arousal hits my forehead like a fucking bat, I spin her to face me, pick her up, wrap her legs around my back, and walk her to the billiard table. She's pliable and weightless. I can deadlift four times my ballerina. Placing her down on the green felt, she spreads her legs wide to welcome my hips.
She runs her hands up my chest, fingers spread wide, touching as much of me as she can. She caresses each muscle, indulging in the feel of me as I contract under her gentle worshipful strokes.
But then she stops abruptly, her eyes trained on my chest.
I glance down, scowling at the red stains on my shirt.
Croatian noses spill like a bitch.
My teeth lock together, enclosing all the words, excuses, and lies inside them. I don't want to bullshit her. Waiting for her to say something, I silently curse Jimmy and Butch and everyone else who taints these moments with her. In that vein, I curse myself too.
Pressing my forehead to hers, I breathe roughly, wishing away this life for her. And yet, I will never fucking let her go. I swallow down the evening, a shitty evening with dirtbags and sluts.