She fucking kicks me.
Without warning, I swing my hand and land a sharp slap on the curve of her lush ass.
“No!” she squeals. “You- You fucking hit me!”
Just to make a point, I do it again.
“Now quit kicking me, or so help me, you won’t sit for a week.”
I sense the motion of her boot lifting to take aim.
Little bitch!
My hand connects with her ass before her foot makes contact with my belly. Except now, her dress has hiked up, and my palm meets bare flesh.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, she’s not wearing panties.
We both freeze. I drop my hand abruptly, and she goes limp over my shoulder. My cock just went from zero to hero in under a second.
For fuck’s sake, Caraldi, she’s barely more than a girl.
The fact that I saved her doesn’t give me rights over her. Nor do I have to put up with her shit for any longer than necessary.
So why didn’t you tell Mario to send the chopper?
I could have been out of here by now.
I brush the thought away. I haven’t been thinking clearly. Who could blame me? This has been a shitshow.
I make my way up the next flight of stairs with no more resistance from the girl, aside from the occasional oddly discomforting squirm. I fumble with the keys to open the door to my room. It’s only as I do this that I realize I’ve been stroking my palm over her burning butt. And she’s rubbing against me, pressing her mound against my chest. I clench my jaw firmly. She’s still silent when I step over the threshold. I set her down. And now we’re staring at each other.
Her eyes are gleaming, cheeks flushed. Her lush-as-fuck tits heave as she pants for breath. God help me, I’m pretty certain I can smell the scent of lust on her.
“If you think, for one minute, that I’ll fuck you just because—”
“Who says I want to fuck you?” I snap. She drops her eyes to where my hard-on is pressing against the cheap-assed sweatpants. Okay, that would be a giveaway. “You can sleep on the bed. I’ll take the chair,” I bite out.
“You think I trust you? The second my eyes shut, you’ll be pawing at my vag.”
“Your what?”
“My minge, you great prat! I’m not stupid. You filthy old fuckers are all the fucking same!”
Her voice is husky, though. She licks her lips. As if it’s not a scenario she’s opposed to.
“Filthy old fucker?” Is she for real? Dario and Mateo are the old fuckers. I’m in my goddamn prime.
“You heard me! All you’re interested in is getting your sticky mitts on me!”
“Are you serious? You’re the one who was dry-humping my shoulder a minute ago,” I throw back. Frustration overwhelms me. I want to throw my head back and tear my hair out.
“Dry-humping? You fucking spanked me, you twat! I was…I was trying to get away!”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I scoff. “You. Fucking. Liked it!”
That seems to take the wind out of her sails because her mouth opens and closes for a few long moments. And then suddenly, she’s swooping up and closing her lips over mine.
For a second, I’m staring into wide blue eyes, and I don’t know who’s more surprised at what was clearly an impulsive act.
