Page 34 of Overcast

That’s fine.

But what I do know...is that I want to see Stormi when I come all the way down Jane’s throat.

Rising from my position, I slam my lips to Jane’s before tugging on her hair to look up at me.

“Get on your knees.” My impatience seeps through my timbre, but Jane’s lips curl into a wicked smile, believing that I’m so horny that I can’t wait another second.

Her body lowers, fingertips grazing down my Adidas t-shirt, and going right for my shaft. My regard falls to the door since Jane is no longer there to block it.

Behind the cheap plywood sits the woman I can’t wait to get rid of.

Ever since I laid hands on that female, she’s seeped her little claws into me, and I’m about to pry them the hell out.

She’s obviously conceived ideas that I’m going to weaken and go easier on her, maybe let her go. The conundrum is that I don’t play with my mark.

I can imagine it, dream it, eye-fuck it, but I won’t touch it.

Not after everything.

Not when she’s toying with me like she has the upper hand and the sweetness she portrays seeps from her like it’s nothing.

I pull my phone out again, typing out a quick text to my sister.

Me: Did she have long blonde hair?

I need to know.

Fuck me, I’m not quite sure why I’m double-guessing everything.

I saw her. I’ve never in my whole career at B723 had someone keep their facade up for so long.

Maybe she’s not a greenhorn and has been doing this for a long time.

I think about what I would do if the tables were turned. I would never rat out the boys. I’d die before she’d get a word out of me.

Reagan: You found her.

I let go of Jane’s head, using both hands to type out my next message.

Me: I think so.

Me: What do you remember?

The tip of my cock hits the back of Jane’s throat, and I cower over slightly, my right palm striking the door between me and the woman I want in place of Jane.

“Fuck,” I growl as I steal a look down at blonde hair. Her golden locks bob around me, focused, as she continues to work me into the finale that always plays out when she blows me.

Reagan: Not very tall, small built. I’m not sure why I remember this, but she was pretty but nasty. Her voice...she laughed. Like a child kinda.

Me: Anything else?

Reagan: Something about the weather. I heard a man say it a few times.

Stormi.

It wasn’t the weather, it was her name.

Me: I love you. Text you later.

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