This is happening.
The last month and a half of torture is finally over and I?—
“You’re the most important person in the world to me, Denny.” I gasp when her grip contracts, loving her claws even if they’re currently trying to embed themselves in my dick. “I’m not about to pressure you. We’ll move at your pace.”
“I never thought we wouldn’t,” she sasses back and, with that, releases me entirely, ducks under my arm, and saunters out of the elevator—after tapping the button to open the doors again.
There’s no hiding from the extra sway to her hips. Jesus, confidence looks phenomenal on her.
That I might have played a part in it blossoming has me feeling like Goofy with his tongue rolling out of his mouth to hit the floor.
Not conventionally pretty, my ass.
If she got any hotter, I’d be walking around with a permanent semi.
Traipsing after her, I watch as she unlocks our door, then peers at me over her shoulder.
“Well, Zach? Havewechangedourminds?”
It’s less about consent and more a taunt.
Fuck if my dick doesn’t respond like she just deepthroated it.
Back to drooling, I promise, “You better get your ass in there before I chase you inside.”
Heat flares in her eyes, but she lets out a yip that has me grinning wolfishly and racing after her when she takes off. I watch as she dive-bombs onto the couch, doing a great impression of a starfish on the sectional.
Wanting in her, any which way she’ll let me, I stride over, then rest a knee between her feet as she leans back on her elbows to stare up at me.
“This comfortable enough for you?”
“Plenty.” Her eyes shift from my erection and the definite wet spot to lock on mine.
That’s when we both swallow.
This is it.
This is the moment where everything changes.
Looming over her, gently, I lower my weight until her thighs cradle my hips.
As I come to rest on my forearms, she lays a hand on my side. “You feel good.”
“You feel better.”
Her smile kicks up at the corner of her mouth, making a dimple pop out. “You’ve wanted me since invite-only night?”
I dip down to prod that dimple with my tongue. While she squirms beneath me, I admit, “I did. I just… I was in denial.”
“How’s Egypt this time of year?”
“It sucks. I wanted to figure out what was wrong with me. I-I guess I knew you weren’t… into me.”
“There was no point in actively being into you. That way led to heartache, and I wasn’t about to live my life like that.”
Her candor shouldn’t be sexy, but it is.
I’m used to girls blowing hot air up my ass because they know I’m heading to the NHL—injuries not withstanding—and they want in on that ride.
