Page 43 of The Love of My Next Life
I deserve the punishment. It kills me that she thinks she does, too.
But the whimper she releases when I thrust against her center makes me fucking weak, and I use her ass cheeks to guide her movements, rocking her back and forth until she’s grinding on me in a way that makes us both pant and moan.
She starts slowly, moving tentatively as she finds her rhythm.
“Fuck, Lennon.” My hands are gripping her so hard as I meet her thrust for thrust. “Fuck, baby.”
When she pulls her lips from mine and drops her head back, I know I’m in trouble. The grip in my hair tightens and her movements speed up, dragging her hot pussy over my jean-clad erection. I grunt and halt my thrusts.
The feeling of her on me is almost too much, even with my jeans and boxer briefs acting as a barrier. When I think about the fact that her skirt is pulled up to her bra and only her cotton panties are keeping her from coating my jeans in her pussy juices, I have to bite my lip and white-knuckle the edges of the chair.
She starts making these little noises. Her mouth hanging open and her pretty face tilted to the ceiling, she whimpers and gasps, whispersyesinto the air.
I’ve never seen anything so intoxicating. So worthy of obsession.
I try to hold out. I try to rip my eyes from her body, pray to a god I’m pretty sure doesn’t exist that she’ll just fucking come before I blow in my pants. I want to see her come.
I need to see it. Hear it.
Fuck, I would kill to feel it.
The thought alone brings me to the edge, and I have to punk out.
“Baby,” I plead, gripping her hips again with firm hands and stilling her body. “You gotta stop.”
Her lower lip pokes out and her brow furrows in disappointment, and I laugh. Then I grab her hair and pull her to me so I can kiss that pouty mouth.
“Why,” she says against my lips. My smile is euphoric and embarrassing and fucking cheesy as hell.
“You keep going and I’m gonna come in my pants,” I confess, and her mouths curls up into a devilish grin, making me laugh again.
“Let me take care of you.” I bring my hand to the front of her panties, find her clit, and rub on it. She cries out, then slaps a hand over her mouth. Her hazel eyes are curious, shocked. Her pupils blown out so wide I would swear she was rolling.
I rub it again, with more pressure this time, and she groans.
I crook one finger into the crotch of her underwear when a knock raps at her door. We both freeze.
“Lennon?” her dad calls into the room.
“Yeah?” she answers. Her voice is hoarse and sexy. I try to slip my fingers back into her panties, but she slaps her hand over mine and shakes her head frantically.
“I just wanted to say goodnight,” Trent says before sounding the death knell of my hookup. “I really enjoyed meeting Eric tonight.”
Lennon’s eyes close and she grimaces.
“I’m glad, Dad,” she croaks.
Fuck. I gently slide her off me, then stand up and slip on my shoes.
“I really think your mom would have liked him,” Trent adds, hammering the last nail in my coffin.
“Me too, Dad.” She swallows hard and hangs her head, her attention falling on the bouquet of flowers lying in the middle of her bedroom floor. She doesn’t look back at me. “Love you.”
“Love you too, Pumpkin. Sleep tight.”
Neither of us dare speaks until his footsteps fade down the hall.
“You need to leave,” she whispers. I sneer at the shame in her tone.
