Page 62 of Escaping Our Reality

There’s no way I would be able to pleasure her if she were touching me. Rubbing my chest, teasing my abdomen with her teeth. Just the thought of it makes me wanna come.

And as I’ve already said, bringing her to orgasm is my new addiction. I’m not ready to give that up for my own pleasure.

Squaring her shoulders and lifting that stubborn nose in the air, she eventually clears her throat and turns her attention back to the movie. We both spend the next five minutes pretending to watch car chases and gun fights.

Finally, Lulu stands. “I need to refill my drink.” She makes a very extravagant show of bending forward to lift her glass from the coffee table. When she does, her cotton shorts ride up, revealing the thin strip of white skin underneath her ass cheek. She’s wearing black lace panties.

I can’t stand it. She wins.

Snatching out, I grab her waist and spin her around in front of me. Her plastic water cup flings across the room, scattering ice cubes everywhere.

I’m not sure how it happened after that. Either I tugged her onto my lap, or she eagerly jumped onto my lap. Either way, she’s straddling me now.

And that’s all that matters.

Her chest heaves underneath my chin. All I would have to do is reach out with my tongue—just a little bit—and her nipple could be in my mouth in a split second. The thin strap of her top dangles from her left shoulder. In a nano-second, I could grab it with my teeth, exposing the fullness of her breast.

But I can’t do either of those things. Because I’m currently consumed with the feel of her tight little crotch being lined up perfectly with my rock-hard erection. My fingers grip her hips so tightly, fusing her body to mine, I’m probably bruising her.

I’m twenty-one years old. I should be too young to know what perfection feels like. Too young to know that nothing better exists in the world.

But somehow, I know. Me and Lulu... This is as good as it gets.

Her hair falls forward, tickling my own bare skin. She reaches around and traces the faint white scar from the cut I had on my chest a few short weeks ago. Her fingers shake as she caresses both hands across my own peaked nipples and down the hard ridges of my abdomen. My eyes close and my head automatically falls back.

I’m definitely not having sex with Lulu. Not tonight. She’s not ready.

But I’m definitely gonna have to jack off five-thousand times to get rid of this rush.

Her fingers trace my collarbone. “I thought you wanted to watch the movie?”

I lick my lips. “Nope.”

She does the same, mimicking me. “You said you did.”

“Because I’m a fucking idiot.”

Her giggle sends tingles across my body. “You took your shirt off.”

“Yep.”

“But you wouldn’t take if off for me all the other nights? When I wanted you to? When I wanted to look at you and touch your skin?” Her whisper is heady, thick with desire.

She’s killing me. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You took it off tonight. You’re playing our game. And you’re not playing fair.”

I growl. “Game on.” I press her body even tighter into mine, rubbing the hard seam of my jeans into her sensitive skin. Theskin I know is throbbing to be touched. The skin that’s leaking her tasty, warm desire all in the crotch of her panties.

Her back arches, and she moans.My moan. Telling me she wants to be kissed.Really kissed.

We crash into each other, unable to function for one more minute if our lips aren’t tasting each other. Her tongue plunges into my mouth, searching for me, calling to me. I bite her lip and quickly suckle away the pain. I reach up with both hands, slowly pushing the straps of her top, lower and lower. I have to see her. I need to see her.

And then there’s a knock at the door.

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