Page 42 of In Spades

WILLIAM

Clothes dropping in a line from the door to the stairs. Pushing her against the banister.

The slight smile on her lips as I slide my hand up her thigh, lingering on the crease—mere centimeters from her pussy.

Wrapping her chocolate brown ponytail around my fist. Tugging her head back, forcing her to look up at me.

Lips fused together. Bodies pressed in desperate need. Bouncing between the wall and the stairs as we stumble into the house.

Slamming her back into the wall beside my bedroom door. Grabbing her wrists and pounding them into the drywall above her head.

Spreading her legs with my knee and?—

“Housekeeping!”

“Wha…” I mumbled incoherently. The pounding had come from outside my door. Not the dream about Kristin. I rolled over, groaning when I realized it was the fourth day in a row that I’d woken up with a hard-on.

Knock, knock, knock.

I threw back the covers and scanned the room for my sweatpants. By the time I spotted them, it was too late. The door beeped with the stroke of Kristin’s master key, and the handle unlocked with a click.

“Oh!” Kristin let out a surprised squeak when the door swung open. Her eyes widened, watching me sprint across the room in my boxers. “I’m, uh, gonna give you a minute.” She snickered and stepped out of the room, pulling the door behind her.

Ah, fuck. At least my sweatpants passed the sniff test. I really needed to wash my clothes. I debated whether to drive back home to run a load of laundry or swing by a laundromat in town.

I slipped into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. The last thing I wanted was to talk to Kristin with morning breath. Well, afternoon breath.

Damn. It was past lunchtime.

I splashed cold water on my face before punching the button on the coffee maker. My bloodshot eyes and stiff neck felt worse than a college hangover. I was way too fucking old to be staying up until four in the morning.

I collected myself, then pulled the door open. “Morning, Sunshine.”

“Morning?” Kristin asked, giggling as she waltzed in with an armful of towels. She carried them to the bathroom to restock the shelf. “My shift is almost over. You’re a little late to the party, Solomon.”

“I think maybe I partied too late,” I quipped, pressing the heels of my hands against my strained eyeballs. “Had a late night. Didn’t sleep much.”

I turned to walk back to the bedroom when Kristin ran smack into me. Her hands splayed across my bare chest, and her breasts pushed against my ribs. The warmth of her breath tingled across my skin.

A shirt would’ve been smart.

She shifted her weight, and her stomach pressed against my sweatpants. My dick strained against the fabric. Her lips parted, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

I groaned and tightened my grip on her waist. “Kris…”

The coffee maker beeped as the pot finished brewing. We both stood still. Slowly, her eyes trailed up my body until they met mine. Her heart raced so fast I could feel it beating.

What I wouldn’t give to rip off that polo shirt and?—

Wham! A door slammed in the hallway, shattering the moment. Kristin slipped around me to get to the cleaning cart.

I clenched my jaw and willed my unruly erection away by thinking about my ex-fiancé. Thinking about Maleficent always did the trick. Almost too well. I rarely allowed myself to think about my ex out of fear that my dick would retract into my scrotum, never to be seen again.

I walked to the coffee maker and poured myself a cup.

“You want some?” I asked as Kristin slipped back into the bathroom.

“Oh, um, no thanks,” she said with a polite smile. “I shouldn’t.”

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