Page 25 of Passing the Red Line
Then he called me Hermosa, and all that started to go out the window. Even more so when I saw him texting someone and he accused me of me being jealous.
Was I?
Maybe a little, but I wasn’t going to announce that to him.
The fact that I was even jealous is a bit mind blowing to me. I have no reason to feel that way toward the man. I hate him, I shouldn’t be jealous. Hell, I’ve only spoken to him twice and neither time had flirting of any kind. Yet my mind and body wanted his attention on me and me alone.
Which is probably why I got bold and told him exactly what I wanted and now I’m in his car, on the way to his house.
“We could have gone to my apartment, you know.” I throw out as he drives through the windy mountain highway. It should be a crime to be a passenger in a car going down this road after a night of drinking. It's a sure-fire way to make you puke.
“I like my house better,” Christian answers, taking another turn and I have to make sure that I remember to breathe. No way am I going to cover his car in vomit.
“If we would have gone to my place, you could be getting a blow job right about now. Instead, you’re taking so many curves that I’m getting dizzy.” I say, pouting in my seat.
Christian lets out a chuckle and I think that is the first time I heard him laugh that didn’t have a sarcastic tone following it.
“Nothing is stopping you from leaning me over and taking me in your mouth,” he says, quickly turning to throw me a wink.
The man starts to shift, and it takes me a second to realize what he’s doing. He’s starting to unbuckle his belt.
“Maybe if you weren’t driving on this highway I would,” I throw at him, my mouth water against my own will at the thought of having him in my mouth. Is he big? Would he hit the back of my throat and make me lose every single thought process as I work him? “If I blow you right now, there might be a chance of me biting your dick off.”
Christian gives me a shrug. “I wouldn’t mind a few teeth grazes.”
Why do I find that hot?
“Another time,” I answer. I really don’t want to get sick on him.
“So, this is going to happen more than once?” he asks, making one more turn through the trees until he eventually comes out until the historical Highway One.
Now I’m the one shrugging. “We’ll see how tonight goes.”
The man next to me lets out a snort and shifts one of his arms until it’s on my lap, massaging my thigh. “Think I’m not going to be able to satisfy you?”
“You are a hockey player after all, for all I know your ego isn’t the only thing that needs a little help to get inflated.
He lets out a hum, and just continues to drive toward his house. All the while his hand is still on my thigh and moving up.
I hadn’t regretted my outfit choice until right now.
“Baby, my ego isn't big, but I can tell you right now that my dick is and you will be begging for more before breakfast tomorrow morning,” he tells me, but I can’t concentrate on his words. My mind is on his fingers as they make their way between my thighs, opening up my ways just a bit and caressing me through the material of my pants ever so gently.
“Who is saying anything about breakfast?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even to not let him hear that he is affecting me.
“I am,” he says, applying more pressure to her caresses. “You’re not leaving my house until you have breakfast and at least six orgasms.”
“Is that why the girl from a few weeks ago was still at your house well into the afternoon? Because you couldn’t get her to at least six orgasms?”
A stupid question, I know, but I’m about to get into this man’s bed. I should have a right to know about his sexual adventures.
Christian lets out a howl of a laugh that I wasn’t expecting. “She was still there because she wouldn’t leave. Why do you think I had the music on so loud? I was trying to wake her up, but she wouldn’t budge.”
Damn. If he would have told me that the first day we met, I might have been nicer to him.
“And did you get tested after her? Have you at the very least changed your sheets? I’m not about to catch something from your extracurricular activities,” I say to him. I don’t know how I’m able to even say full sentences with him touching me the way that he is, but I am.
“I got tested and I’m clean,” he says, adding a little bit more pressure as he merges to the next lane. “And I changed my sheets weekly.” I feel a sweet drag of his finger against the seam of my pants. “Can you say the same?”
