“Ouch, bad cub,” he teases.
I climb from my knees, making a dramatic ‘ahh’ sound like I’m sixty instead of twenty-eight.
“If you whip them off, I’ll soak them so they’re not ruined.”
“Oh, bet you’d love to have me walking around in nothing but a jockstrap. You spilt the wax on purpose, didn’t you?”
I want to slap that cheeky grin off his face—I also want to kiss him, so that’s what I do. Leaning forward, I grab a fist full of his t-shirt, bend down to his level and drag him into a greedy kiss. Jahmar moans into my mouth as if he’s been starving for me the second our lips lock. I could easily get addicted to that sound.
Wasting no time, he pulls me down the rest of the way until I’m straddling his lap. I push past his moist lips, wrapping mytongue around his and fucking his mouth like it’s my main purpose in life.
Jahmar’s hands slide through my hair before tugging hard and holding onto the thick strands in a death grip. He takes complete control, guiding and moulding my mouth exactly how he wants it. I roll my hips like I would if I were impaled on his cock. I’m a strict top, although I don’t mind a cheeky finger. Despite my preferences, that doesn’t stop me from rocking my hips like I’m on a bucking bronco.
The ridge of his solid length drags against my arse. It doesn’t take much to make this man go from zero to one hundred. He bites on my lip, eliciting a needy moan from me that I’m sure the neighbours can hear through the paper-thin walls. Jahmar releases my tender lower lip and soothes it with a light flick of his tongue before pulling back, hands grasping either side of my neck. My chest rises and falls from the tongue fucking I just received.
He pins me with those chocolate eyes. In the muted light of my apartment, flashes of warm caramel dance in his irises—god, he’s pretty.
“I am so fucking into you, you have no idea,” Jahmar whispers with a genuine smile on his face.
My stomach flutters and my jaw hangs open like a gormless fish.
“I-I think, erm.” Words evade me. I feel the same; of course I fucking do. I’ve pretty much made him my obsession, but he scares the shit out of me. Maybe it’s because of what he does as a side hustle or perhaps it’s because he makes me feel things I never have before.
The stupid pounding organ in my chest wants to let him in, yet I can’t ignore the fact that he genuinely pisses me off sometimes with his foolish banter and silly games. I sense he’s still keeping me at arm’s length. That chirpy disposition he wears so well isan attempt to cover up what’s hiding behind that impenetrable wall. If I had a sledgehammer, I’d turn that wall to dust. If only it were that easy.
The timer on the oven saves my arse. “Dinner’s done!”
I clamber off Jahmar’s lap, almost tripping over a cushion that slipped off the sofa. I’m a hot fucking mess.
“Great, it smells unreal.”
I make myself busy in the kitchen, turning off the timer and getting out plates, as well as internally berating myself for acting like such a fucking weirdo.
“We can eat at the—” my words cut off as I take in the heavenly sight before me.
“Why are you getting undressed?”
“You said you’d soak my trousers, remember?”
“Oh, shit, yes. Pass them here.”
Jahmar chucks them in my direction; with a bit of fumbling, I catch them, making him chuckle. I swear this man likes to see me suffer.
“You can borrow some joggers; they're in the third drawer down,” I say, pointing towards my bedroom.
He nods, walking away in his tight top and a purple jockstrap—send help because I’m fucked.
Part of me thinks even if he were torturing people for fun, I still wouldn’t be able to let him go.
Chapter 16
Jahmar
Like the shameless flirt I am, I swing my hips as I walk into Anders’ bedroom; I’m not wearing this jockstrap for nothing. I’ve always had a perky arse but put me in a jockstrap, and you’d think I’d had a Brazilian lift. I feel it jiggle with every step I take. The “Jesus fucking Christ,” I hear Anders mumble under his breath, confirms my exit had the desired effect.
He’s so nervous tonight. It probably didn’t help that I blurted out how much I’m into him. I can’t help it though; he makesme want to do cartwheels and shake my arse like a pom-pom, preferably on his lap.
The only way I’m going to calm him down and give myself a real shot at getting to know him is to hand over some control. From what I’ve gathered, watching when no one knows he’s looking gets him off, maybe that’s what he needs tonight.