Page 4 of Irresistibly Risky

“Come on,” she clips out nervously, her gaze casting over to the door, reminding me that I’m on the clock, and that’s not helping anything. “What’s wrong?”

My eyes jump up to hers. “Nothing,” I sputter quickly, forcing a smile as sweat starts to coat my brow.

“You sure?”

No. I’m not fucking sure.

Because why in the motherfuck am I not hard? The hottest woman I’ve ever seen is bent over a bathroom sink with her sweet ass and wet, wanting pussy in the air, and I’m having… performance issues. No. This is not who I am. Something like that doesn’t happen to guys like me. I’m twenty-seven, not eighty-seven.

This is not the time for whiskey dick, brother. Come on. Harden up for me.

“Please. I want this. I want you. Now.”

I shake my head and, without thinking, plunge my semi straight into her. And holy hell, she feels unbelievable. I don’t know if it’s her or if it’s the situation, but I’d swear, nothing has ever felt better. This is it. This is what I need. Her hot, tight pussy around me. I’ll be hard in no time.

I start to pump into her in earnest, thrusting like a madman, convinced that the harder I fuck her, the harder my cock will grow.

My mouth opens as I suck in a ragged breath, absently noting something flashing from the corner of my eye as it falls. I don’t linger on it as I’m too busy giving her everything I have. Harder. Faster. But to no avail.

All I can think about is, Why the hell am I not hard?

Her pussy is gripping me, sucking me in, wanting every inch I can give her.

She’s moaning and pushing back against me, wiggling her hips, and searching for me as she says things that I’m hardly listening to because I’m too focused on this.

This… nothing. Fuck!

“Good?” I somehow question, already knowing it’s not good for her. How could it be?

“Uh. Hmm. Yeah. Um. Can you… go deeper, maybe? Harder?”

I can try.

I’m losing my mind right now, and that’s only seeming to make this worse. I do my best. I give it my full focus, as I pound into her like a madman. I reach around and find her clit, anything to make it better for her. Anything to give her the orgasm I promised.

She’s not going to come, and I feel like garbage for it.

But then something happens. Something out of nowhere. “Fuck!” Because with all my pumping and thrusting and fucking and focus on my dick, I start to come. It slams into me like a tsunami, abrupt and utterly devastating. It happens so fast that I can’t stop it. Hell, it doesn’t even make sense. Can you come without being fully erect?

Evidently, the answer is yes, because that’s what’s happening right now.

“Did you just…”

“I did.” Shit. Fuck. “I’m so sorry. That’s never happened before.” I stare down at where I’m still inside her and then up to her face. She’s not happy with me, and I can’t blame her. “I swear, that’s never happened to me. There has to be some sort of medical explanation. Give me five minutes. My best friend is a doctor. He’ll figure this out.”

Without waiting for her to say anything, I pull out and tuck my former best man back into my jeans.

In my desperation, I start spewing words a mile a minute. “Just don’t go, okay? I’m sorry. I know this is messed up and not what you were looking for. Please stay and wait for me. I… I want to make this so good for you and I want you, so just stay.” I flee the bathroom, thoroughly mortified and panicked in a way I’ve never been before.

Adrenaline races through my veins, and I shoot around the loud VIP club floor, squinting past the stupid strobe lights and multicolored bullshit, anxious to find Callan. Callan can help. Callan can fix this.

He’s over by the bar talking to our friends Zax, Greyson, and Lenox, and I bolt straight for them. My hand latches onto Callan’s arm, and I shake him. “I need Viagra. Now, dude.”

“What?” Callan blinks fifty thousand times at me and who has time for that shit.

“Viagra, bro. Now. I was just with this incredible woman in the bathroom, and my guy not only wasn’t fully hard, he prematurely shot his load. Something is wrong with me, and I need Viagra to fix it now.”

He coughs out a laugh, as do our friends, but I ignore that and them. “Does it look like I carry a pharmacy on me? Besides, I’m not writing you a prescription for Viagra. You had alcohol and muscle relaxants, not to mention you are likely a bit dehydrated after playing football for hours. Viagra will tank your blood pressure.”

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