I don’t know how much time passes, but soon we’re panting, our faces close. Monty’s lips are pink and plump from our frantic session, and she rests her forehead against mine.
“That was a lot more fun than telling you boring facts.”
I smile, cupping her neck. “I don’t know. I like learning about you.”
“Don’t you like kissing me more?”
“Maybe I like both.”
She presses another soft kiss against my lips. The last one. “Thank you for an amazing date.”
Chapter 9
Guy
The beat of my feet against the snow is the only rhythm I follow. I pull in cold air, my muscles burn, but I keep pushing myself, determined to run this fire out of my system.
A fire lit by Monty fucking Reid.
I lay in bed last night with a hard dick and a racing mind. All I wanted to do was go into her room and finish what we started, but we drew a line and I had to respect it.
She was still sleeping when I got up for my run, and thank fuck for that. There’s something incredibly sexy about Monty at all times, but in the morning when she’s a little bit dreamy-eyed, her smile small, she feels more approachable. I’m hoping she’ll be up, alert, and ready to annoy me for the day by the time I get home.
I finish my run, and once I’m letting myself into the house, I’m greeted by the sounds of the television. Monty is sprawled on the couch in my T-shirt, her foot elevated on a cushion.
“Morning Chief,” she says, stretching her arms above her head, my T-shirt riding far too fucking high. I can justabout see her red panties. “You don’t look very sweaty. Did you push yourself hard enough?”
Reaching back, I grip the collar of my damp T-shirt and pull it off before chucking it at her. She laughs and tosses it onto the floor. “You’re disgusting!” But her gaze drifts down my body, her bottom lip tucked firmly between her teeth.
“I’m gonna shower,” I say. “Do you need anything?”
She sighs, gazing at my body. “Many things too dangerous to name, Chief.”
God fucking dammit.
I take the stairs three at a time, tearing off the rest of my clothes before stepping under the heated spray of the shower. Closing my eyes, I rest my hands against the tiled wall, and I don’t even fight the images in my mind.
Monty on the couch. Naked, this time. Nipples peaked. Cheeks flushed. Legs spread.
Begging for me.
“God save me,” I mumble, reaching down to squeeze my already solid cock.
This is why we shouldn’t have kissed. It’s not the regret, it’s a stepping stone to wanting more. My cock is aching for more than just my hand, and as I glide my fist up and down my length, I imagine it’s Monty’s mouth. I picture her clear green eyes gazing up at me, pretty lips taking my cock deep, her fingernails pressing into my thighs.
“You’ll swallow everything I give you.” In my mind, she nods, moving faster, saliva and shower water coating my dick. I grip her hair, and her eyes roll back as she shifts forward, eager to take more of me. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you? Desperate for a belly full of my cum.” She moves faster, lips firm around me, and I’m close, so fucking close. “Tongue out, Monty.” She pulls off me and does as I ask,mouth wide and eager to take my load. My orgasm shudders through me, heavy waves of pleasure pulling moans free from me. I coat her tongue, her lips, and she laps it up, so fucking perfect?—
I open my eyes, the fantasy gone, my cum on the tiles. I rinse myself and the wall clean, switching off the shower and climbing out. The condensation on the mirror hides my shame, but not enough.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I whisper to my warped reflection.
I’m a grown man. I can resist a woman, especially someone like her.
I need to act my fucking age.
Dressing quickly in sweats and a t-shirt, I head back downstairs, where Monty is still watching television, completely innocent to what I just did to her in my mind.
Her gaze cuts to mine, and she gives me a knowing smirk.
