“Want to know what I’m thinking about right now? And what got me so hard?” I ask, releasing myself from the confines of these stupid boxers and letting my thumb play with the tip of my cock as pre-cum fucking drips from my slit.
“Yes,” she answers, the word sounding like a plea.
“How hot it was to watch you let go,” I answer honestly. “How damn wet you were. Fuck, I’m gonna be thinking about that for a long time.”
She’s leaning in close to me, and god, I want to kiss her so bad. Instead, I reach for her hand and when she offers it, I wrap her fingers around mine so that we’re stroking my length together.
“This good?” I pant.
“So good,” she breathes.”I want to make you come.”
“You’re about to get your wish.Fuck.” I try to hold back, to last a little longer, but it’s impossible. I press my back into the mattress so I’ll come all over my stomach, but Liza has other ideas. She kneels before me, my dick in her hand, and jacks my cock as I give in to my release. Ropes of come shoot from my dick all over her belly and breasts. It’s the most sensual, sexual thing I’ve ever seen, and it’s all I can do not to scream her name.
It takes a minute for my breathing to regulate and my brain to turn back on. Liza tosses my t-shirt at me as she slips on her robe and heads for the door. “You’re going to make me late, but it was worth it.”
Holy hell. I won’t survive this. But right now, all I need to do is sneak through the house and get up to my room so I can have an existential crisis in my shower, because I’m pretty sure my sole purpose for living is finding new ways to make Liza orgasm.
Using my shirt to clean up the remnant of my own arousal because between the two of us, we made quite a mess. I’m just glad my boxers are black and they hide a little of the evidence. My t-shirt’s crusty, so I ball it up and tuck it under my arm as I slink out of the room. It’s been a while since I heard Ollie’s whistling, and based on the noise level coming from his and Fallon’s room, it’s safe to say he’s busy. That means the coast is probably clear and it’s time for me to make my escape. I walk quietly through the kitchen and am almost to the staircase when the doorbell rings, making me nearly jump out of my skin.
It’s gotta be a delivery guy, so I take two steps up the stairs, but the doorbell starts ringing again. This guy’s gonna wake the whole dam house up, and they’re all going to wonder why I’m creeping upstairs in my skivvies and holding a crusty t-shirt.
Fuck my life.
I turn toward the door and toss my nasty shirt behind the fake tree in the corner of the living room. I’ll come back for it later, and sadly, I can almost guarantee it’s not the only soiled article of clothing this room has ever seen. I open the door, ready to tell the guy to leave the packages on the porch, but it’s not a delivery person.
It’s my dad.
“Hey,” I stammer, trying to look composed and utterly failing. “What are you doing here at seven in the morning?”
My father frowns. “I told you I was playing pickleball with Dean Mercer today. I thought you might want to grab a cup of coffee before class, but it looks like you forgot.” He’s staring at me as I stand in the doorway in my boxers. I’d like to say henever told me about these plans, but the truth is that I probably tuned him out.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m getting ready to go to the gym for a session with the trainer. It must have slipped my mind.”
He shakes his head, like I’m a mess and he can’t quite figure out how we share the same genes. Hell, neither can I. We say our goodbyes, and after I shut the door, I hear Liza’s shower turn off. She’s probably walking back to her room in that silky blue robe. Damn, I’d like to see that. I’d like to do a lot of things, actually, but right now I’m just grateful that Liza wasn’t out here eating breakfast or making coffee when my dad stopped by. He’s not a monster, or anything, but he can be a bit of an asshole, and I’m going to do everything in my power to keep my dreaded future from colliding with my pretty fantastic present.
17
Liza
“These fucking leggings are about to be the death of me,Tiger,” Blue says, pulling me close once we’re safely in the confines of his bedroom. It’s a roommate-free zone since Dutton and Bridgette are having dinner with his parents tonight, and we are taking full advantage of having the third floor all to ourselves.
“Tiger?” I question. “Did you just pet name me?”
“Yeah, it fits. You’re cute as hell, but you’ve got claws.”
“We don’t need pet names.,” I remind him. I’m also reminding myself because this isn’t a real relationship. It’s a delightful series of mutual transactions.
“Yeh, we do,” he claims. “I saw it on the list.”
“Stop, no you didn’t,” I say, smacking him playfully. “And what’s wrong with my leggings? They're so soft and comfy. And they have pockets! I love them.”
“And they hug your ass like a second skin. By the way, I love them, too. But I want them off.”
“That can be arranged,” I tell him. “But why are you in such a hurry? Dutton and Bridgette won’t be back for a couple of hours.And why are you swearing? I thought you gave that up when you found out you were going to be a cat grandpa.”
“I’m in a hurry because you wore these leggings at practice and I couldn’t stop staring at or thinking about your ass,” he says, smacking it lightly as he turns on his bedside lamp and switches off the big overhead light, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow. “And I was going to give up swearing. But then I talked to Hazel about it, and she said that it was a stupid fucking idea. My cat’s kind of a genius.”
I laugh. And that’s the crazy thing. Yes, I’m having fun exploring my body with Blue, but I’m also just having fun with Blue. I never thought such a thing was possible, but here we are.
