Exhaustion swells through my body, quietly closing the screen door and walking through the looming heat infesting the living room.
It’s like a cloud of Hell, steaming up through the floor and circulating off the walls.
I reach back, wiping the streams raining down my neck, and flick over to Bunny’s open bedroom door while passing by.
She took off on me right as I was getting her where I needed her. Actually. You know fucking what?
She did ittwicetoday.
I tried waiting patiently like a good boy for her. But push came to shove, and here I am, hunting her pretty ass down. Just for the satisfying view.
The unfed mind eatsitself, right?
Trying to peek in for a quick snack, the loose carpet tugs underneath my shoes, my flitting heart rate forcing my body into stone.
My hand slips down my damp chest, tunneling in on her bare legs glistening, her white, frilly socks formed to the way her feet are curved around the lip of her nightstand.
Damn you, Bunny.
My veins rip with hedonism, the boiling desire tilting my head to the left for the rest of the view of her sitting on the nightstand at the end of her bed.
The humming box fan jammed inside the window behind her is blowing, sending her curls of cocoa tousling around her dewy shoulders, probably whispering the most teasing breaths over the beads of sweat dripping past her navel, rushing faint gusts over her bent knees and spread thighs.
The red, white, and blue popsicle slipping through her lips, the juice getting sucked over her tongue, possesses me to lean my shoulder into the wall and watch.
I’m not being sneaky about how crazy she drives me. If she opened her pretty eyes, she’d find me gnashing for a taste of something sweet.
Falling down her white lace bra, drawing out the contours of her sweat misted cleavage, my stomach plunges, spotting the treat I wanna indulge in.
Her pussy is covered with matching white, lacey cotton, but fuck, I can make out the slight shadow of where she opens. Where she touches. Where her fingers slip down to when she aches for relief, for solace from the pain she drowns in.
A pitiful groan of longing breezes through my nose, my hand balling into my T-shirt like it’s ready to be a possessive accessory for her.
She parts her legs wider, adjusting her hips and fucking teasing me with a little moan as the fan blows down her back.
It’s probably in my head. But it seems like the predator drive in me is sniffing out her pheromones. It’s kicking up the temp, encouraging me to give in to the chase I’ve been depriving.
She’s dripping.
The popsicle. The popsicle is dripping, too.
Preying on the blue droplet snapping and splashing on her chest, I unwind my hand, smoothing my palm down the demand snaking up my abdomen.
One… Two… Three.
Watching the fourth one drop and merge into a sticky puddle on her sun-kissed skin, my fingertips escape the hem of my shirt, the faint touch teasing over my belt buckle and inducing a feral need.
Her wrist rotates, bending lines of red into veins of blue, and her glossy lips that I know taste like candy right now mold tighter around the twisting flavored ice.
“Bunny,” I huff silently, edging myself with a brute swipe down the length stiffening behind my jeans.
She slurps. And the erotic, messy sound snaps a rubber band into my back—sending me rushing into her room before I can fight the impulse.
Crossing the lifted threshold, into her smothering domain of fucking ecstasy, her painted lashes flutter open, her doe pools of hazel rounding into visceral innocence.
The popsicle pops from her slobbery grip, causing a hot pant to part my lips and drop my shoulders.
“W-w-wha-”
