Page 83 of Crossing Lines

“Well, I am charming,” I joke.

She snorts and looks over, her eyes glistening from the light shining into the dim car. “You’ve been pursuing me since the rooftop.”

I caress her smooth cheek. “I can’t help it. I hear your heart crying out for me.”

“Not you quoting Mario,” she giggles.

“It’s a relatable song.” Settling down, I lean over and lightly run my lips near hers. “I can’t wait any longer for this.” I kiss her passionately and whisper, “Can I touch your pussy?”

She stalls for a second and nods.

“Say the words, baby.”

“Yes,” she breathes out. “Touch me.”

Kissing her again, I slip my hand inside the leggings, swallowing her whimpers as I caress her clit and continue through the slick folds to her entrance.

“Ahh!” She shudders and grips my sweatshirt as I ease two fingers inside her wet pussy, making her push up on the seat. “Ohh… Kross…”

Our kissing intensifies while I finger-fuck her into soaking her panties and leggings. “You feel so tight, baby. Shit.”

“Mmm…” Her pussy clenches me, and Davia bites my lip as her body starts to quiver. “Fuck!”

I continue rubbing her through the waves until she starts to descend. “Better than the phone sex?”

“Yes,” she murmurs. “So much better.”

Removing my fingers, I bring them to my mouth and lick her juices. “Damn, Davi. Taste so fucking sweet. Next time, will you come in my mouth?”

“Yes,” she agrees after a second, slumping against the seat to calm down.

Taking her hand, I press it on my straining dick. “Feel how badly I want you.”

She stares into my eyes while rubbing me. “Can I?”

“Yes, baby.” My breathing turns heavy when she unbuttons my jeans. As she pulls down the zipper, vibrations resound from her clutch, and her hand stills. My gut twists with anger because I know it’s that man. He’s back in Baltimore. Our weekend bubble has popped. “Ignore it.”

Davia eases away and retrieves her phone, sighing heavily. “Fuck.” She wipes her face. “I feel so guilty.”

“You’re with the man you want. It isn’t wrong.”

She looks at me. “Could you please take me home?”

“Inviting me in?” I ask.

“I can’t. We can’t sneak around. It’s messy.”

“Then bring your feelings into the open.”

She exhales and says, “Take me home, please.”

Though craving to be with her longer, I respect her wishes and drive her home. It’s infuriating how she’s hanging on to something that’s been over.

Pulling up outside her apartment, I reach for her hand before she exits the car. “I’m serious about you. I’ll never play games with your heart. I’ll be all in when you come to me. Keep that in mind while you figure it out.”

Responding with a bob, she slips away and leaves the car, jogging up the stairs to her apartment.

I drive off, only to stop at the end of the street. An impulse makes me turn back. Instead of parking in front of the apartment complex, I veer around the corner, shut off the car, and head to Davia’s place, knocking lightly.

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