Page 27 of Wicked Me
Beads of pre-come lubed my hand. I began to pump, my hips grinding my fist with every thrust. I wanted to be inside of her, but I’d take this, too, this coming together on both sides of a closed door. I gnashed my teeth together to keep from groaning while I imagined her through the doors writhing, panting, fucking herself. If only I had x-ray vision and could see through walls... Sweet. Jesus.
My balls tightened. My fingers scratched down the wall and balled into a fist. So fucking close. Paige gasped inside her room, and a rush of energy surged through my dick. My mouth opened on a roar, but I closed it to contain the noise.
At the same time, my phone vibrated in my back pocket. It scared the shit out of me, and between it and my extreme ongoing orgasm, I lost my balance. Still coming into my hand, I fell into my bedroom onto my back.
Aftershocks shook through me even as the air left my lungs. Holy shit. When I could breathe again, I laughed as quietly as I could. That was quite an orgasm. I’d jacked it plenty of times to memories of Paige, but it was never anything like this. And if I’d actually been inside her? I’d probably pass out and die, and I’d be okay with that.
I guessed Paige had come, too, but inside my bedroom, I couldn’t hear anything. I tucked everything back into my jeans, swiped my hand down my stomach, stuck my head out in the hallway. Silence. Good.
My phone vibrated again, and I took it from my back pocket. The first message was from Tony.
Next time I pick the party.
I would have texted him back to tell him no fucking problem if not for the second text from Hill.
Corner of 131st& Chestnut
2 am sharp
Do I need to remind you what happens if you’re late again?
It was 1:24 now.
I grabbed my leather jacket from its spot on the floor and glanced at Paige’s door. No. No, he didn’t need to remind me.
8
Sam
PRETTY SURE THE LADY—MAN?—I stood next to on the corner of 131stand Chestnut at two in the morning was a prostitute, but who the hell knew these days? I just hoped I wouldn’t have to introduce myself to the ladyman’s pimp and fill out a job application as continued punishment for my non-arrival at the warehouse fuck-up with Hill.
I arrived at the corner at exactly one fifty, had even allowed myself enough time to circle the neighborhood and figure out the best exit strategy if it came to that like it had at the yellow house. I debated taking the crowbar from my car with me in case someone started up another fireworks show, complete with rat poison and fat Texan men with seventeen chins, but decided not to. It wouldn’t fit under my hoodie and jacket anyway.
The streetlight buzzed and flickered over our heads, and mosquitos swarmed it every single time it brightened. When the light blinked out, the mosquitoes dove down to the hooker who clapped them between her/his black-gloved hands. They left me alone, probably because I hadn’t doused myself in what stunk like a cocktail of cotton candy and maple syrup.
I narrowed my eyes at every car that passed, which was a surprising amount for an early Monday morning. Some of their drivers could’ve been just as shady as me, on their way to a crooked business deal or a top-secret two in the morning fuck. Most of them were probably headed home from work or someplace innocent like that, though, which was exactly what I wanted to be doing. Going home to Paige.
