His response is to lick and nibble on my neck. I bite my bottom lip to prevent myself from crying out loud when his finger moves over my clit in a frantic motion. My head drops back to loll against his hard chest. His other hand moves lower until a finger enters my opening. I widen my stance while his hands work vigorously between my legs. I can’t control the loud moans that leave my mouth, even with the prospect of being caught.
“You’re so fucking wet. The next time it’ll be my dick penetrating your cunt. It’s going to happen. Face it. I’m not trying to break up your happy relationship. I just want a piece of you.” He pushes his hard thickness against my ass as he thrusts his finger. I rise to the tip of my toes with each forceful stroke.
I hear the front door open. Fuck, somebody’s up.
“Art, you have to stop.” I struggle to break free.
“Not until you come.”
I feel my orgasm building, gaining momentum as his hands pick up speed. The muscles of my stomach spasm uncontrollably the moment my climax hits. I gasp for air as he moans.
“The way your pussy clenches my finger makes me want to fuck you where you stand.” He pulls his hands from my sweatpants mere moments before Ricky walks through the kitchen door. His gaze moves from Art to me. I turn my face away quickly, sure that he’ll see the guilt written there.
“What’s going on here?” he asks.
“Cin gave me a lesson about sweet potato farming. To show my appreciation, I’m helping her wash some for breakfast.”
“Oh, that’s good. I’m glad you two are getting along now. Cin, you’re shaking. Are you okay?”
“Yes, I think I over did it on my jog,” I answer without looking at him.
“Don’t push yourself so hard, sweetie.”
I nod.
“Well, I’m ready for some coffee,” he says, walking over to the coffee maker.
Where the fuck is she?
I got to this fucking party an hour ago, but still no Cin. I thought she would’ve arrived by now since she was already gone when I left the house. The whole dickhead brigade is here though. Every once in a while, Josh’s friends glance over to where I am sitting on the sectional. I swear if those fuckers move in my direction, this place is going to look like a landfill when I’m done beating their asses. From the moment I stepped through the door, Bri—she told me her name again—has been glued to my side. She’s practically sitting in my lap. Lilah glares daggers at her. I continuously eye the front door. The house is filled with music, dancing, beer, and weed.
“What do you say?” Bri asks.
“About what?”
“Do you want to go upstairs, silly?” She laughs.
“No,” I respond.
“Okay, it’s still early. We can go up later.”
Does she not know when to take a hint?
“You fucking bitch!” she suddenly yells, running to the landing of the stairs. There’s a little girl sitting on the last step. She appears to be around ten years old. She must be Bri’s younger sister.
“Go to your fucking room!”
“Why? I’m not doing anything,” she whines.
“Get upstairs right now before I kick your skinny ass.”
“I’ll tell Mom and Dad you had a party when they get home.”
“If you do, you’ll regret it!” Bri grabs her wrist.
“Ouch!” the girl shouts.
“You open your mouth, and I’ll make your life a living hell,” Bri warns, pulling her sister upstairs.
