“Come on, Danny. Let’s not do this, please. I’m here to keep you company. Don’t ruin it already.”
He pulls away and lays his hand across the backrest. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry. Watch a movie with me? Or we can play a game. You used to love cards; want to play some Rummy or something? I’d suggest strip poker, but I won’t. Unless you’re game. Because it is kind of warm in here, I could shed some clothes and be more comfortable.”
I hide my smile behind my hand as I shake my head. “You’re a piece of work.”
In one deft move, with his good hand he yanks his shirt open, sending buttons flying in all directions. His chest and abs flex, every muscle defined as the low light trips across the high points. He looks down. “Yeah, I guess I am a piece of work. Not bad, eh?”
I lean over and grab the remote from the arm of his abandoned chair, shoving it into the middle of his gorgeous belly. “Here, turn on something from the beginning so we can both watch the movie.”
He winks. “So, you think you’d help me with my fly if I have to take a leak? I might even let you hold it if you ask nicely.”
I cross my arms and stare at the screen.
He’s such a mess.
* * *
By early evening, my head rests on Danny’s chest, and just like in my dream his heart beats strong and steady as we eat pitted cherries from the same bowl.
I have no willpower. I admit it. Good thing he doesn’t know or I’ll be screwed. Both figuratively and literally.
Having sex with Danny isn’t an option. I can’t be another condom wrapper at his feet.
I won’t.
Mo has no idea how fucking hard it is to keep my hands to myself. Her hair flows over my chest, tickling my belly when I breathe. I’ve been half-cocked since she showed up this morning, her hair tousled like she’d been made love to all night.
God, what I’d give to see how she’d look after I’ve had my way with her into the wee hours of the morning. Probably just like she looks now, only well-fucked, with her lips swollen from my kisses and from my cock pumping into her mouth over and over. Her pussy would be puffed-up too, soft and pink, f rom me sucking it, licking it, and finally pounding it. I bet she tastes like heaven.
Ah hell, now my dick is in full-on erection mode. I shift, trying to make sure she doesn’t see. She might up and leave if she does. Damn. I need a pillow or a blanket. Or to get laid.
No shit. That’s it.
I need to get laid so bad. I haven’t had a piece of ass since I kissed Mo. That was, what, two weeks ago? Jeez. I never go that long between fucks. It’s not natural. I wasn’t meant to be celibate.
I move the cherry bowl to cover my woody. Maybe she won’t notice it’s balanced precariously on something hard and long. A chuckle escapes my chest.
Her big, blue eyes pull away from the screen. “What’s funny?”
I run my hand through the softest hair on the planet. “Nothing, Sweets. Just had a funny thought; that’s all.”
When she digs into the bowl, scraping the bottom, she may as well be running her fingers over my cock. I shift again. The bowl falls to the side, spilling juice and a few cherries onto my lap.
She jumps up, grabbing the dish. “Oh no. Sorry.”
I stand and brush my pant leg off. My boner pushes against my zipper—big as fucking daylight. “No problem. I’ve been known to make a mess every now and then. There’s worse things than cherry juice on a guy’s crotch.”
She looks up, her eyes leveling on the stain covering my hardness. I suck in a quick breath. Please, don’t leave. Please. Just don’t leave.
I hold my breath. She leans her head back, her gaze slowly rising, eyes moving as she checks out my chest. Finally, she meets my gaze. She bites her bottom lip and swallows so hard I hear her.
She sets the bowl on the cushion and stands, backing to the door. “I’m just going to head—”
I step toward her, pleading. “No. It’s okay. It’s just a physical reaction. You’re hot as fuck and I want you. But just because I’m aroused doesn’t mean you have to leave, Mo. Please. Don’t go. Stay. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not a big deal.”
She glances to the bulge behind my fly. “Looks pretty big to me.”
Blocking her path, I step in front of the door. When I flip the switch, light floods the room. Her blush covers her from her chest to her hairline, so bright she could be sunburned.
I hold up my good hand, trying to calm her. “I’m sorry. I am. I was ignoring it. You wouldn’t have even known if the bowl hadn’t spilled.”
“Don’t you think you’d be more—I don’t know—comfortable if I’m not here?”