Page 40 of Please, Sir

My cock thickens, but even with arousal rampant betweenus, I realize she went through something a minute ago. I don’t know what’s going on, I only know that I am clearly quite interested in Miss Riley Rivers.

She reaches out, tugging at the hem of my shirt, her eyes vacillating on me.

I don’t know why she’s tugging on me. It’s a personal thing, and we aren’t personal, but I also can’t figure out why it feels normal, natural and even… right.

I clear my throat. “I had a nice little chat with Ivy Ellington-Calhoun today.”

She rolls her hand, wrapping it in the end of my t-shirt, her cheeks flooding with crimson. “I know it was probably an overstep. But Jo Jo was having a hard day—the girls at cheer–” she shakes her head, letting the rest of that sentence free. “I just wanted to make her feel good, feel special, and to take her mind off of everything.”

The blunt end of her thumb drags along my belly ever so slightly as her hand wobbles in my t-shirt. Our eyes lock, her minty breath dusts my lips and nose as she peers up at me, pupils wide, chest heaving. “It’s not a tattoo,” she argues softly. “She can take it out and it will heal and she can still be president.”

“That’s marijuana, not piercings,” I correct, but the curve of her lips into a naughty smile tells me she knows that.

Sweep. Sweep. Sweep.

Her thumb moves over my belly so many times I lose count. If I don’t get out of here in the next minute, I’ll make a fool of myself in these jeans.

My brain, struggling to make sense of all the things I’m feeling, freezes. “You still call her Jo Jo?” I question. Something about hearing her nickname on Miss Riley’s lips makes the back of my head tingly and warm.

She nods, still boldly stroking my bare stomach with onefinger, both of us still not acknowledging it. “She’s Jo Jo to me.”

The crotch of my jeans grows tight, and my cock aches as it presses into my fly, getting fat and happy as I stare down at Riley Rivers.

“I heard you got yours pierced, too.” My veins thud in time with my heavily beating heart, echoing in my ears as I reach out, taking the hem of her shirt in my hand, too. Slowly, I lift her top, exposing her belly. Exposing the silver hoop.

With the back of my hand, I run my knuckles down her belly, over the ring, making her eyes snap closed and her body tremble.

She nods, drunken and hazy, her nipples pressing into the fabric of her tank top.

“Hmm,” I groan, still stroking my hand up her tight, bare belly. That little ring knocking against my knuckles is making me damn weak. “What happened at school that left Jo Jo needing cheering up?”

“I–” she attempts an answer, but her words fail her as she claws at my bicep, gripping it, rocking to her toes. “That’s for her to tell you, not me.”

I smooth my hand around her belly and grip her waist, tugging her against me. She gasps at the feel of my cock pressing into her belly, and her head falls back, giving me a runway of velvety neck to admire.

I look down at her nipples, plucky from our contact, the sight of them against the light fabric a torturous tease. She sees me, and licks her lips, whispering, “You’re lookin’ so you may as well touch.”

It’s an invitation, and I never go anywhere without one. As much as I’d love to explore the ripest, most welcoming parts of Riley right now, I don’t budge.

She doesn’t accept it. Collecting my hand, she presses herhand against mine, nudging my palm into her breast. Her breathing shallows as she initiates a squeeze. My desires constrict me when I touch her body, like I can’t breathe or, I can’t feel my arms, or, I don’t know. Everything I want surfaces when our flesh connects. Her pillowy, tender breast in my palm brings a deep groan out of me. A hungry little moan lifts from her lips as she snaps her eyes closed.

Her body radiates a dark, hot signal that mine picks up. She sways against me, undoubtedly and unabashedly searching for more of my cock as I tighten my hand on her breast.

It’s beenyears.

I haven’t had sex in years. It’s been years since I’ve done any of this. I haven’t forgotten sex, but I have lost my grip on restraint. Or, I don’t know, maybe with Riley, I know I don’t need it. She wants unbridled and wild Jake, the Jake that exists only in slivers of time at his garage desk, a small lamp illuminating his darkest desires. That’s the Jake she wants, and that’s the Jake I’ve been dying to become.

She is unbridled and wild. Fucking gorgeous little sex-article-writing vixen who I’d love to see outfitted in some of my work. A belt and nothing else. Maybe just sitting on a saddle.

Get control of your damn thoughts, Jake.

Between my legs, my cock aches and leaks, reminding me that I should go somewhere else immediately. All those years of no sex are liable to resurface if we keep at this.

I hate to do it, but the spell evaporates as I step back. Her ruddy cheeks and needy nipples coax me, call to my whips, beg for the leather tails to punish and demand. She exhales and I inhale, wishing I could taste her from just that. I force distance between us, because I have to.

I do it for Jo Jo, because a relationship of any kind withMiss Riley would be deep cutting betrayal to her, and I just can’t do that.

“I’m sorry about the piercing,” she says, standing in one spot, wrapping her arms around herself. “I just… I really care about Jo Jo and I just wanted to make her feel better.”

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