“Yes, baby, your pussy is so fucking good. Uhhhhh, yes, fuck, I need to pump harder.”
“No, no, that’s okay, no pumping necessary,” I say, but my mind starts to visualize and my neck starts to sweat.
You are NOT getting horny from this, you ARE NOT!
“Shit...” He slams his fist on the table and I watch in absolute horror—and secret suspense—as he moves closer to the table, his eyes still shut, his head bent down. “You’re going to come, I can feel it, but not yet, not until I tell you,” he groans.
I wet my lips.
Cross my legs.
Look away, only for my eyes to look back at him.
His hand reaches out and grips his cloth napkin. He crumples it in his fist. “Not yet, baby, don’t you fucking come, not until I give you permission.” His head falls back briefly. “Ahh, fuck, good girl. Hold it.”
I lightly pat around the base of my neck with my napkin when he’s not looking. Did they turn off the AC or something? What’s with the pressure cooker up here?
“Jesus, your pussy is so good, so good. Yes, fuck me like that. Keep going, baby.” He slams his fist on the table again and groans so loudly that it feels like a gallon of lava is pouring down my spine.
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to distract myself, but it’s no use. A dull throb pulses between my legs, my palms are sweating, and my gaze doesn’t leave him as he grips the knife in front of him, pounds it into the table, and moans so loud, I KNOW the people below us are wondering what the hell is going on.
“Mother... fucker,” he shouts. “Come, baby, come on my greedy cock.” And then... he grinds down on his teeth, his neck veins bulge, and the most guttural sound falls past his lips.
Oh.
My.
God.
My tongue tingles. My cheeks are on fire. A light sweat glistens on my forehead. Did he actually just come? Because... I mean, that was so convincing, so sexy, so—
“Uh, everything okay up here?” Helix asks from the stairs, startling me right out of my chair and onto the floor with a loud plop.
Jesus Christ, Kelsey, get up.
Humiliation consumes me while I scramble to my feet, press down on my dress, and straighten my spine. “Yes!” I shout. “Everything is... yes. We’re fine. Nothing going on up here. Just, uh, chatting and whatnot. No need to worry about us. Yup. Nothing freaky happening.”
I glance over at JP, who’s smirking, fork in hand with a giant piece of meatloaf on the tines. He tips the fork to Helix and says, “My compliments to the chef.” And then he takes a bite.
Meanwhile, my randy and ready body is over here, sending an SOS to the universe, saying, “I’ll have what HE’S having.”
* * *
“Areyou really not going to talk to me for the rest of the evening?”
Whispering, I ask, “Do you realize how embarrassing that was?”
“Yeah, really embarrassing for you. Helix saw you turned on, nipples hard, ready to go. Not sure if he was ready for that.”
“I was NOT turned on,” I say, even though I think we all know that’s a complete lie. “You’re acting like a child.”
“Or am I just trying to loosen you up? Christ, woman, take a chill pill.”
“Don’t tell me to loosen up. I’ll loosen up when I want to loosen up.”
He nods, lips locked in a way that communicates exactly what he’s thinking—she’s crazy.
“Well, guess what, I’m only crazy because you’re making me crazy.”
