Page 21 of Shark Bait

Boston cream pie.

Black forest cake.

Lebanese sweets with ashta.

I’m adding her pussy to this list. It’s not my hit list. It’s my personal list of sweets I’d like to eat.

“I can’t get the rest.” She curses, clearly frustrated that she’s not more agile and can’t reach under the seat to grab the few stray dollars.

“Leave it,” I suggest, wanting her to pull her dress back down.

She whips her head toward me. “Leave it?”

I nod and lazily move my gaze from her ass to her face.

The widening of her eyes tells me she caught me checking her out. I know she caught me because she asks, “Something you want, Shark?”

I nod. “You know I do.”

The birthday girl scoots toward me, pressing her behind into my groin.

I step back.

She follows. With her back to my front, she pins me against the bathroom door. She lets her head fall onto my shoulder. I slide my hands into my pockets, where I fist them and pray I can hold myself back long enough for her to take whatever it is she’s looking to take from me.

She reaches between us and grabs my erection.

“I wasn’t sure if you were lying or not,” she says as she tucks her hand into my pants and grabs me, then gives my shaft a few strokes and moves her thumb over my tip, gathering the precum I’m releasing because I want her so badly.

“You’re wet,” she says.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell her.

“Touch me.”

“No.”

“Why not?” she asks as she strokes me hard and fast, wanting to make me come.

I grit my teeth. “Because if I touch you, I fear I won’t stop.”

She looks up at me and continues jerking me off. “I hope you don’t.” She hooks her arm behind my head and pulls me down, trying to kiss me.

I bite her bottom lip. Not hard, but hard enough for her eyes to widen.

I hold her jaw, depress her dimples with two fingers, and force her mouth to open a little. I suck in her bottom lip, then release it. “I won’t touch you, but I’m not coming in my pants like some pathetic boy. Since you started this, you’ll finish it off. Sit down.”

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