And her nipples... her very visible, hard, nipples. Ones that I’ve loved to suck on.
“Let’s get out of here,” I bark a little too aggressively because my hand and cock now both hurt, and I can’t stand being this close to her any longer without touching her.
“Okay, geez, we’re going.”
I spin on my heel and quicken my pace, my dress shoes echoing through the concrete gloom of the parking garage. She hustles to keep up, a little out of breath by the time she catches me.
“I take it your hand’s feeling better?” she pants, fumbling with her keys to unlock my door first because apparently, she’s determined to be helpful now and doesn’t want me to have to wait.
She’s so close that I can feel the heat of her body against mine, her perfume curling in the air between us. It would take almostnothing to pin her against the car, to let instinct win and feel the weight of her pulse under my palm as I kiss her roughly. To press her between me and the door until she knows exactly how hard she makes me all the time, and how fucking confused I am because of it.
But I don’t.
Instead, I take a full step back, putting space between us where I want none. Her brows knit, confusion flickering across her face like she can’t understand why I’m moving away instead of into the passenger door that she’s holding open.
And maybe she’s right to be confused because I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I’ve never felt so unsure about my next move. While Rhiannon seems all confidence and surety, I feel the least confident I’ve ever felt in my life when I’m around her.
I just know I need to fix this. I need to get her out of my goddamn system.
“Yeah,” I bite out, way too sharp. “Feels great.”
Then I duck past her and slide into the seat before I can say something worse.
“Okay, damn,” she mutters under her breath, shutting the door with a huff before circling the hood of the car.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pretending like I need a nap and trying to quiet the noise that’s inside my head. I think she’ll get the hint that I don’t want to talk on the drive home, but we don’t even make it out of the garage before she starts.
“So… Have you lived in New York City your whole life?”
“Yes.”
I’m being short, but at this point, I can’t afford to learn anything more about her that I like. It’s quiet for a few beats before Idecide to play along. Maybe I can steer the conversation in a direction where she tells me something super fucked up about her that ends this torture.
“I assume you live outside of the city?”
She nods and immediately her whole face lights up.
Fuck my life.
“I live in Brookhaven.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s a small town situated between Hartford and New York City. It’s built around this beautiful lake that fuels a lot of our economy. Mostly blue-collar workers have lived there but some of the city folk like yourself have started buying up the houses.”
“Sounds like it’s quite a commute to get to the hotel for work.”
“I only work at the hotel one or two days a week. I normally take the train when I do, but like I said, I was meeting up with Leo today, so I drove.”
“I see.”
We continue to drive in silence. I want to say something more to her, but don’t know where to start so I do the only thing I know how to do with her, provoke her. Partially because I think that’ll get her to slip up, and partially because I love when she gets flustered. And I especially love when she dishes it back to me. Something no other woman ever does.
I grab the orange soda bottle from the console and press it to my lips taking a long, exaggerated swig.
She catches me out of the corner of her eye but doesn’t make any movement to stop me.
“I wouldn’t do that. I have a compulsive condition where I constantly backwash.”
