And I walked away.
I had her rubbing her pussy for me, bleeding for me and breathing an angelic song.
And I walked away.
You’re so fucking stupid.
The tightness of my cheeks retracts, the overworked muscles sore from expressing my thrill. I wipe over it, brutely rubbing down my mouth and setting a target on the ticket booth for the Globe.
I don’t know the brunette working inside, popping on her gum while clacking away on her touchscreen. It’s a different college kid each time I come to collect. Because, as you can see, she has better things to be doing.
Damn, must be extremely tarnishing making a decent wage stashing cash in a box and waiting to hand it over to safe hands.
Oh, the suffering. The ailment. Such a dreadful thing.
Fucking bitch.
Blowing a big, pink bubble, she looks away from her glowing screen, giving me a catty eye from the other side, her back arched to rest over the plane of the booth.
“Cash box,” I tell her, my hand sticking out impatiently.
Her bubble pops, her tongue stretching out to wrap around the gum and tug it back into her mouth. She doesn’t make a peep. Just locks her phone in one hand and leans over to grab the metal box and pass it to me.
Getting a grip around it, I tip the impressive weight her way with a fake grin, showing my appreciation for her cooperation. Usually, I take it to Carl’s office where he counts, splits, and keeps the majority of the cash himself.
But he’s not here to piss me off.
This is ours.
I’m still gonna take it to his office to count it and disperse through envelopes, though. And as I pivot to head that way, I get a slip of the most intoxicating view in my periphery.
Bunny’s trying to blend in with the people around the running carousel, I guess not realizing how much she’s always stood out to me, no matter the seas trying to separate us.
I don’t let her know I see her. Even though I want to. Even though the impulse to storm through the distance, pick her up and toss her over my shoulder, bite her ass a bit and slip a hand up between her thighs, is flicking my veins in preparation for a dose.
God. Fuck. She’s wearing a cropped sports tee and the tiniest cotton shorts, and white knee-high socks with her chunky sneakers. Her hair, the dark cocoa waves she let air dry, is teasing me with the gentlest flutter from the breeze of the childish ride. Even without my full focus zeroing in, I can see the amber, twinkling lights dancing on her olive tan, highlighting my baby girl like a prize I can’t fucking share.
Seems like I already did, though.
Aggravation sweeps over me. That same picture of Bunny cupping Ora’s face for a kiss that seemed like her idea is burning through my chest, straight into my heart.
I didn’t let her explain. I could have.Shouldhave. But I didn’t.
Should I turn around? Or keep walking? Does she like being sneaky? Is her skin ablaze with the idea of me not knowing she’s watching me? If so, do I ruin that? Or ruin her?
Ruin her.
The thought of sinking inside her, my hips flush to her soft inner thighs, the friction it would cause and how intense it would feel to have her entwined with me, pulls warmth down my abdomen.
My chest compresses with a silent groan, slipping past others and walking through the jingle of the gift shop.
I’m always quick splitting through here. But I’m tacking on speed because the tingling rush swelling my cock is pretty fucking obvious.
Wouldn’t wanna excite anyone.
Hustling up the stairs and into the office, I close the door behind me to make Bunny believe I really have no clue she’s on my tail, then set the metal box down on the desk and slide on over to the wall behind the door.
She’s coming. I know she is. I feel her. Her presence is zapping my skin like heat lightning striking the torrid sky, the bloom and glow engulfing me in confusing comfort.
