Page 45 of Dizzy

“Should I take it off?”

His jaw tightens. He tenses all over. Does he think he shouldn’t be doing this? Because I’m so much younger than he is? Or because I’m a hostage or whatever? Or is it because the kids are outside?

Because he’s carrying a torch for his ex?

That thought pisses me off.

I grab the hem of the shirt and pull it over my head. Then I shake out my hair in the best impression of a stripper I can manage. Per usual, I get no bounce. It falls straight to the small of my back.

I’m not a big flasher. Beads on Mardi Gras is a pervert scam, and I’m the only Parsons girl who never went wild.

But I crave this man’s eyes on me. I eat it up. It makes me high. I couldn’t pass it up any more than I could pass up a buffet. I’ve been hungry too long. And this is too damn delicious.

My tits ache.

He gobbles them up with his eyes.

“You want to touch them?”

“Put the shirt back on,” he growls.

“Why?”

“Do what I say, girl.”

My stomach swirls.

“But you love my tits.” I cup them, offer them up.

He moves so quickly, I don’t have time to react. One minute he’s in the doorway, the next he’s spinning me, crowding me between his body and the washing machine. The metal is warm against my chest from the hot water.

“I said do what I say.”

He draws me back, flush to his chest, and cups my left breast. He molds it, brushing his thumb across the nipple, squeezing, tugging. As if he’s milking me. And I know that’s weird, but it drives me crazy. I squirm, writhe. His other arm is wrapped around my waist, pinning me to him.

“Do you like that?”

“Yes. Play with the other one.” I’m whining. Breathless.

He doesn’t make me beg. He switches to my other breast, kneading, drawing my nipple into a stiff, aching point.

I mewl, rocking back into him. My pussy’s throbbing, demanding. I never get this out of control. Never go from zero to sixty so quick. There’s something about the way he’s holding me. I don’t need to think. He’s calling the shots.

“Do you want to cum, baby?” he murmurs in my ear.

“Yes,” I pant. Ineedto cum.

He pushes my upper half into the machine and drags my hips back, shoving the sweats down and delving between my legs. I kick the pants all the way off and brace my arms against the glass door, elbows back.

He’s bent around me. I can feel his heat on my back and his rough jeans against my ass and thighs. I try to push up, but he has me pinned.

Besides, I don’t really want to get free.

He’s wrapped an arm around my waist, and his other hand is spreading my folds. I’m so wet. My cream tickles as it drips down my slit. He strokes with his fingers, teasing my clit, smearing my wetness back from my hole to my bottom. I clench. No one’s ever touched me there.Ihaven’t touched me there.

“Relax, baby. I ain’t gonna hurt you. I’m gonna make you feel good.” His voice is raspy and breathless in my ear.

His finger returns to my clit, circling. That hungry wanting busts loose, and I work my hips, helpless, totally covered by his hard body, breathing in his scent. Motor oil and soap.

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