Page 55 of Waiting for Acceptance
Short black hair still dripping wet, tanned skin that looks as smooth as velvet, and the mix of mint and coconut that make me want to bottle up her scent for my own guilty pleasure. My cock throbs as I stand motionless in the shower, letting the water beat down on me as I indulge in every wicked thought I’m having about the little troublemaker in the other room. I fist my length and begin to pump, with the same memory playing in my mind that always helps me imagine it’s her hand and not my own.
Her hands make quick work undoing the buttons on my shirt, and before I know it I’m pulling her soft lips back to mine. I’venever been a fan of tequila, but if the taste of it is the taste of her—tonight I’m a fan.
“We’re not going dancing, are we?” She looks as desperate for this to happen as I am and it has me praying she doesn’t change her mind.
“No.” Thank God.
When we finally make it back to the room I’m staying in, while the leak in my apartment gets tended to, I can’t unlock the door fast enough. Once we’re inside her hands move to my belt and I can’t help but smirk as she slides her hands into my boxers, while those big, blue eyes practically brand me.
“Eager to please?” She bites her lip and nods. As soon as the back of my legs hit the foot of the bed, she drops to her knees. She hooks her fingers into the waistband of my boxers, pulling them and my slacks down, freeing my cock from the only thing between it and those perfect fucking lips of hers. Her tongue peeks out to wet her lips and she looks up at me, and I wouldn't be surprised if I shot cum across her face just from that look alone.
“Take your shirt off.” Yes ma’am. Her hand wraps around my length, and I can’t stop the groan that follows. Her hot tongue strokes me from balls to tip, then she spits on my cock and my mouth hangs open like an idiot. She swallows me down inch by inch, but when she cups my balls and opens her throat to allow me in further, I swear I see fucking stars.
“Fuck!”
This woman sucks cock like it’s a sport and she’s not to be beat. Her hand moves in sync with her mouth and I completely lose myself in the way she makes me feel. I fist her hair and pull her head back, seeing her tear-streaked cheeks and mouth dripping with spit, and I can’t decide if I want to shoot a load down her throat or bend her over this bed.
“I wasn’t done.” She tilts her head at me in disapproval.
Guess I’ll be bending her overafterI come down her throat. She sticks her tongue out, her own little way of asking for my cock back, and I feel my balls begin to tighten. She takes every inch greedily, and I don’t even ask where she wants it. I saw the look in those devious blue eyes, she’s gonna swallow every single drop I give her.
“Fuck, Trouble.”
“Yeah?” My eyes fly open when I hear her voice, but what I don’t expect is to see her, standing with the door wide open, her hand still on the knob, and her mouth hanging open.
God, what I wouldn’t give to put her on her knees right now.
Her eyes move slowly from my cock, locking with mine, and it’s all I need to finally find my release. “Fuck,” I mutter, as I finish harder than I have in…what was it?Ten fuckingmonths.
Holding her gaze as ropes of my cum hit the wall is an erotic experience I’ve never had before. The redness of her cheeks and the way she watches it happen, in no rush to leave, apparently, brings a tired smirk to my lips. “See something you like, Trouble?”
That snaps her out of whatever trance she was in and her spine practically snaps straight. “Lock the door next time, Fitz!” Then she slams it behind her and my smile grows.
Once I’m done, I wrap my towel around my waist and make my way into my room to grab my clothes. Because let’s face it, I’d be more than delighted if she ripped my towel off me the way I wanted to do to her just a little while ago. I grab one of my old college T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants and head to make a pot of coffee. Lauren is sitting at the barstool in the kitchen, staring into the living room when I emerge from the bedroom. She’s either sleeping with her eyes open or she’s extremely captivated by something because she doesn’t even look my way when thedoor accidentally hits the wall. Though it may be an active choice not to look at me, I never can tell with her.
“Are you one of those people that can sleep with their eyes open?” I inquire, moving to the cabinet with coffee filters.
“That painting is so pretty.” She continues staring at the picture hanging behind my couch. “It looks like the kind of place you’d go to just…escape. Don’t you agree?” I look over to find her pretty blue eyes on mine and I fear if I’m not careful, I could give this woman the power to absolutely destroy me. If I haven’t already.
“I do.” She’s silent the entire time the coffee is brewing, and since I’m exhausted after my shower, I remain silent as well. I’ve never enjoyed awkward silences. But this isn’t an awkward silence, it’s a comfortable one. She’s so fixated on the painting across the room that I get to sit back and just look at her. Taking in every feature from her long eyelashes to the slope of her nose to the way?—
“Why are you staring at me?” She’s still fixated on the painting, so how does she know? As if she can read my thoughts she answers. “I can feel you looking at me.”
“That’s…insanely creepy.” She finally looks over at me with that sassy expression I know and love.
“Creepier than staring at someone’s side profile to kill time?”
“Touché.” Her eyes narrow and I move to start making two cups of coffee for us. I glance up at her a few times in the process of moving around the kitchen, seeing that there’s clearly something on her mind. “What?” I finally ask, setting her mug in front of her.
“I could have sworn you said my name earlier.” I raise a brow at her. “Did you?”
“Yes.”
She pauses for a moment, her eyes narrowing. “Why?”
“You saw what I was doing, Trouble. You really want the answer to that question?” I reach into the fridge for the caramel coffee creamer, setting it down by her cup.
“You really should lock the door when you’re in the bathroom.” I lean forward, resting my forearms on the countertop.
