Page 24 of Wicked Little Game
It’s obvious that she tries to hide the frown on her face as she takes a big sip and I almost want to laugh. She should stick to her sugary stuff if she can’t handle liquor for adults.
“Don’t make me regret being nice to you,” I grumble as I take the bottle away from her. I contemplate wiping over the bottleneck with my shirt, but after a minute of consideration, I decide against it. It’s enough that one person in this room acts like a preschooler most of the time.
Over the next hour, Ruby slides lower and lower on her side of the couch. I keep my eyes fixed on the TV, acting like I don’t notice how her feet touch the fabric of my sweatpants.
We had to take care of a puppy for a while on base, and every time the little thing started to bark while we ate our food, Rockwell told us to ignore him until he stopped. I had hoped that this would also work on Ruby.
It doesn’t.
Instead, her foot slides higher and higher, until it’s resting just inches away from my half-hard cock while I’m still acting like Moonraker has my undivided attention. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ruby is doing the same, albeit with a dirty grin flashing over her face from time to time.
I grab the armrest to my left so hard that I’m afraid that I’ll damage the fabric, trying not to shift in my seat. Because every time I do so, her foot slides over the bulge in my pants.
“Ouch!” she yelps as I grab her ankle. Instead of shovingher foot away, I hold it in place, because once again, there’s too little blood up where I need it.
“Please,” she says after a few seconds, and I finally bring myself to let go of her foot. “No, I meant the whiskey,” she says with a laugh.
“Don’t you think you had enough?”
“You want me to come over there and grab the bottle myself?”
“God, no,” I say as I hand her the bottle.
Maybe that will distract her from torturing me further. I’d love to excuse myself to pathetically jerk off to the memory of Ruby at the pool, or Ruby in the changing room, or Ruby in general, but her foot on my thigh feels like it’s sealing me to the couch. When she pulls it away, I sigh in relief before I realize that she only pulled it away to come closer.
She’s kneeling next to me, her hand resting on my thigh. Slender fingers dance over the fabric of my pants, too high to call it cordial. Not to mention that we’re anything but friends. It seems like she’s playing “trace the outline of Sam’s cock without touching Sam’s fucking cock”.
“You want me to help you with that?” she purrs, and I don’t know why I let her manipulate me like this.
She could make a career in the military. Negotiations would end with her either arguing the enemy into the ground or making them think her plan was theirs all along. Well, that, or they’d shoot themselves because they couldn’t stand listening to her any longer.
“I hate you,” I say, and her smile gets even bigger.
“Is that a yes?” She asks as she puts her hand right on my cock and I shift my hips, but she pulls her hand away.
What a monster, I think as she straddles me, sitting down far enough from my crotch. Somehow, I want to bash her head, or better, my head, against the coffee table.
Her fingers slip under the waistbandof my sweats and my body decides that it’s a wonderful idea to lift my hips so that she can pull them down slightly.
My cock springs free, rock hard, pre-cum glistening at the tip as it flops against my shirt. Great, now shereallyhas to wash my stuff. I keep my eyes on my cock, because I don’t want to see the self-righteous grin she’s probably sporting.
But then she lifts her hand. I follow her movements with my eyes, only to see her licking over her palm and my cock pulses at the sight alone.
Another traitor.
As she wraps her warm hand around me, I finally manage to shake myself out of my haze.
“Ruby, stop that. We can’t—” My voice sounds raspy and strained. And desperate, Jesus, I don’t recognize myself.
The rational part of my brain tells me that this is a horrible idea, that I shouldn’t enjoy this. But the other part is solely focused on my rock-hard dick, screaming at me to tell her to keep going.
This one time, Ruby listens to what I tell her as she pulls her hand away, leaning back slightly. I can see in her eyes that she’s far from being done with me. At least she listened. The only problem is that I’m still sitting here with my cock out, unable to move.
And that’s not because I can’t physically overpower her. I could probably throw her through the room with one hand, but instead, I do something dumb. I put my hand on her thigh. Ruby takes that as a signal that I calmed down enough for her liking, but she’s still waiting for something.
“Use your words, tell me what you need,” she says, looking at me with that goddamn smile that gets me even harder; if that's possible.
“Fuck you,” I say, adding a quiet, defeated, “Touch me, please,” a few seconds later.
