Page 12 of Right Number, Wrong Man
I glance at her right forearm and recognize the knife tattoo. When she was sixteen, she had it done at a back-alley tattoo shop, trying and failing to piss off her hippie parents.
She wrings her hands. “I didn’t think you were coming, Mike.”
Shit, she’s mistaking me for my brother. I can see how that could happen cause I forgot to take off his mask and we’re both wearing black.
Hailey got dolled up for him, not for me, I remind myself. I gotta tell her about Mike and leave. Now.
Before I can get a word out, Hailey steps forward.
Her body presses into mine and I freeze like I got a gun pointed between my eyes. She rises on her tiptoes, curling her arms around my neck, her breasts squishing against me. Her fingers slip under the hood of my mask, caressing the nape of my neck.
I swallow a moan. I’ve fantasized about her hands on me, but this ain’t a fantasy. It’s better than that.
She seems so small and fragile, clinging to me. It makes me want to protect her—and then break her. How easy it’d be to pick her up, push her panties aside and take her against the wall while I wrap my hand around her slender neck and squeeze until?—
No, I have to clear up this misunderstanding, but it’s so hard to think with her hips pressed into mine and her perfume in my nose.
Raspberries and roses.
My thoughts are far from proper. That dark, untamed part of my soul awakens like a starved beast, scenting blood.
It craves a hunt. It cravesher.
But it can’t happen.
Gently gripping Hailey’s shoulders, I bring some distance between us. I drop my hands, standing there like a puppet with its strings cut… and a massive hardon.
But look at me, I ain’t thinking with my throbbing downstairs brain. I’m being respectful. A well-adjusted, mature male doing the right thing?—
“Is it because you think I’m ugly?” she asks and the hurt in her voice knocks the air from my lungs.
Christ, doesn’t she know that everything about her is perfect?
Doesn’t she know that her eyes light up the world? That her smile is like a cotton-candy sunrise and the way her nose crinkles when she giggles is the kinda stuff people smarter than me write poetry about?
Then there’s her gorgeous tits and that stunning waist. Her long legs and that firm, round ass that would jiggle like grape jelly if I smacked it.
I wish I could tell her that she’s the only one for me and I’ve never even kissed another woman. It’s stupid to save myself for a girl who’d rather chop off her hands than touch me, but sleeping with somebody else never felt right.
Wordlessly, I shake my head. If I speak, she’ll know I’m not my brother.
“You think I’m pretty?” Hailey asks, hope elevating her tone.
I nod—whipping my neck back and forth to emphasize my enthusiastic agreement—and don’t stop until she lets out a soft laugh. Thank God she’s into men who move like a fucking sock puppet with a big ol’ hairy hand up its ass.
“I’ve never…done itwith anyone,” she says, her voice hitching.
I bite my tongue to keep my urges under control.
Like I thought, she’s a virgin… and she’s offering herself to me.
Popping her cherry is one of my favorite fantasies in the spank bank. She’s always the main attraction of my dirty thoughts, but there’s more to taking her virginity.
People never forget their first time and I always wanted that for us. A special bond nobody can take away, no matter what happens in the future. I thought it was a pipe dream, but here I am. Here she is.
Ready and willing.
Hailey grabs my gloved hand and my breath stops when she guides it to her breast, forcing the contact. I choke down a guttural groan as her nipple hardens.
