Page 21 of Cream Pie

“Yeah, you can. Fuck off.”

He blinks. “Uh, what?”

“Yeah,” Amy mutters, glaring at me. “What?”

I clear my throat. “What I meant was, can I have this dance,” I say, to her.

The kid looks confused, but Amy just keeps that same heated look that feels like a mix of pissed and desire.

“No, you cannot,” she mutters. She turns back to dickface, but I’m not done.

“You know,” I growl, tapping the kid on the shoulder. “They’ve got free cocaine in the bathroom.”

“No shit! Really?” he grins widely. “Fucking awesome!” he drops his hands from her like the dumb sack of shit he is, and I roll my eyes.

“No, not really,” I mutter contemptuously. “Now fuck off.”

I push him aside and step right into Amy. I take one of her hands in mine, and the other drops to pull her hip towards me possessively. She gasps quietly, her face flushing as her big blue eyes look up into mine. The kid sputters, but one quelling look from me, and he’s scampering off with his tail between his legs.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she hisses.

“Dancing.”

I spin her with the hand holding hers, making her gasp before I pull her right back into me. This time, both hands go to her waist, and I groan as she sinks into me.

“Stop it,” she hisses quietly, her breath catching as our bodies grind together.

“You stop it.”

“People are watching us,” Amy mutters under her breath, her eyes darting around the room.

“So don’t make a scene.” I grin, my eyes locking with hers. “Just smile and dance.”

She gives me a hard look right back, swallowing thickly.

“Just smile and dance, huh?”

“Well,” I growl, leaning close so that my lips brush her ear, making her gasp.

“And maybe try and forget that it’s my cum still soaked into your panties.”

She whimpers. God help me, she whimpers and I almost cave right there. I almost claim that sassy little mouth of hers right there on the dance floor of her father’s wedding. But somehow, I hold back. Barely.

“You’re disgusting.”

“No, I’m right.”

She blushes, biting her lip. “Does this crude routine work with women?”

“Did Dudley Dipshit’s ‘I’m an entitled little shit with money’ routine work with you?”

I nod towards Ken’s son, now sulking by the bar nursing a beer, and Amy snorts a giggle before she catches herself. She quickly covers it with a stern glare.

“Josh, was actually a gentlemen. Unlike some people.”

I roll my eyes. “Let me guess, he was trying to impress you with the fraternity he’s pledging at, what, Yale? How did your panties stay on?”

Amy giggles in spite of her best efforts.

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