Page 127 of Unhinged

I kiss her finger. “I do, though.” Her finger and hopeful expression fall, and I reach up to stroke her cheek with my thumb. “But I trust you more.”

Her grin returns, and it’s as if I bought her a mansion. I wish I could.

I find a red T-shirt for her to wear, and she opens it with a laugh. “ELO? Can I not escape them tonight?”

Putting on a pair of paisley boxers in case I run into my mother, I laugh. “Nope. Don’t bring me down, evil woman.”

She puts on the shirt to go into the hallway. “I’m not that bad.”

I shake my head, rolling my eyes because she obviously doesn’t get it. I hand her a pair of blue plaid boxers but wish she didn’t have to cover that ass in the see-through underwear. I complain, “There’s no hope for humanity. For fuck’s sake, it’s their damn songs. One of them was playing in the truck. Horrendous.”

Still, I bend to kiss her, breaking the ground rules again, but Simone kisses me back, and I’m the one who reluctantly pulls away first. As I pick up her hand and tug her toward the door, I tease, “Get your shit together, Simone Rodwell.”

Cumshots are awesome, but her responding giggle makes my goddamn night.

Chapter 22

Simone

After our shower, Greg and I shoved the wet comforter to the bottom of the bed, and I fell asleep wrapped around him. But then we found we’re both thrashers and ended up on opposite ends, spread out. At least he has a queen-size bed.

Finished getting ready for work, I go downstairs, straightening my black dress with white racing stripes on the sides, and even though there’s no reason, Greg waits for me on the couch. Greg looks up at me, and his mouth hangs open. I smile. “You didn’t have to wait around.”

“I wanted to. You’re going to work looking like that?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You look…nice.” He sits back, and his hand goes to his crotch, rubbing the noticeable lump growing.

I grin as I hurry into the kitchen to gather my lunch for later. When I return to the living room, Greg is again messing with his phone in one hand while the other hangs between his legs. When he looks up, his eyes strip me.

I set down my lunch cooler, and walking over, ask, “What are your plans for today?”

“With you looking like that… None of my plans matter.” He rubs his fly as he licks his lip. “How about a quickie?”

“Maybe.” I kneel in front of him, and he drops his phone on the couch.

“I meant a fuck.”

“I know.” I unbutton his jeans and unzip them.

“I want your cunt.” He helps me push down his jeans.

“My mouth won’t do?” I lean down and lick his hardening dick. His body jerks and then relaxes, almost like he was ready to bolt out of here but realizes he trusts me. It’s humbling.

He groans, “Christ, Simone.” I continue to lick his shaft and forage through his hair to lick his balls. “Fuck.” I then alternate licking and stroking his cock. Greg pants, “Oh, baby, I’m begging you to suck it.”

I swirl my tongue around the tip. “Like that?”

He thrusts his hips toward my face. “More. Kiss it like you did last night.”

I smile. I did that because I want him to feel treasured, even when he’s not mine to claim. I slowly kiss the head, sucking slightly with my lips, smearing pink lipstick over his dick. Greg whispers, “Aww, shit.” His fast breathing makes me smile, and I flick my tongue between every other kiss. Greg thrusts, trying to get into my mouth more, but I like teasing him, so I don’t go further yet.

I kiss him, and he frantically lifts his hips more, pleading, “Stop teasing me, Simone.”

I giggle and say, “Maybe,” before I wrap my lips around the tip and suck, taking no prisoners. Greg grabs the back of my head, and he thrusts into my mouth without hesitation. It’s shocking, impressive, hot, but gagging me.

I pull back and push his hips, and he gets the message, so I bob up and down, controlling the fucking, and he whines loudly, “Goddamn, your tongue. I love fucking your smart mouth.” I reach up and cover his mouth, and he muffles, “Jesus, Harry, and Jonas! Coming! Suck it down.” He then gasps, and I feel the spasms in my hand as he erupts onto my tongue. I lap his cream like it’s flowing from a garden hose.

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