I reach down between my legs, handing him the torn scrap of fabric and pushing it into his palm. His fingers clasp around it, including my fingers, and he draws it back, and my knuckles graze against the hard length of him trapped inhis boxers.
Holy macaroni. He has a goddamn sea snake of a dick, and it’s pulsing against the back of my hand.
His eyes darken. “I did this to you?”
I swallow suddenly, feeling all too outmatched in this game. I nod, my gaze dropping to his lips before righting them back to his darkened eyes.
“You just slept through me ripping off your panties, princess?”
“I’m a deep sleeper. It’s fine.”
He scoffs, a small tug pulling at his lips as he leans so close that the tip of his nose is almost touching mine. “We both know that’s a fucking lie, Katie. So you just admitted that you lay there whilst I ripped these from you?You.The same girl who hopped over three fences to avoid getting caught by the police when they raided a frat party? The same girl who throat-punched me when I ate your Musketeers bar that you had left inmydorm room. The same girl who, when finding out Lottie’s boyfriend had cheated on her, snuck into his dorm room and left a dead fish under his bed, and still felt that wasn’t enough, soaccidentallypunched him in the balls.”
“Those things, when put together, make it sound worse than it was.”
“They’re all true. I haven’t embellished a single thing.”
“I still stand by the fact that I was in a deepsleep.” I lift my chin defiantly, but all it does is bring my lips a whisper away from his.
“Yeah?” he smirks.
“Yes.” I waver, not liking the look he has on his face.
He lifts the ruined panties up past his chin, and I attempt to release myself from his other hand gripping my wrist. He holds the lace to his nose, inhaling deeply. The smirk on his face creeping into a full grin that lets me know that even at this time of the morning, I’ve already lost the first battle of the day.
“Why are your panties soaked, princess?”
“No idea what you’re talking about.” I turn to slip out of the bed, but realize my mistake that I am buck naked from the waist down. I slide out of the bed ass first, attempting to take the blanket with me, but in a lazy grip, Jonesy ensures the bedspread doesn’t move an inch. I get a second hand on it. I lean back, tugging the bedding until I’m almost in the most unattractive squat position, and Jonesy lets go. His smug, victorious face disappears from view as I fall back onto my unfinished floor and stifle the urge to scream at him. At least my vagina got covered during my fall.
“Oops.” I hear him laugh as his head peeks over the end of the bed, his chiseled, tanned chest exposed. How my unconscious self finds comfort in this dick-for-brains is absolutely beyond me.
I pull myself to my feet and thrust out my hand. “Give me my panties back.”
“Nah.” He inhales again, this time using his free hand to rub himself over his boxers. “Let’s call it payment for my sleep services.”
My pussy throbs as I watch him lazily stroke himself whilst inhaling the scent of my obvious arousal on my panties.
Throbs.
Like it had never seen a man before in its life.
Like its dying wish is to ride that man until I sleep for a week.
I need to get laid.
Immediately.
I’m still staring at his cock.
I’m still staring at his cock.
“Maybe we could come to another arrangement, though? Have you thought about my offer?” His voice is like gravel, his eyes...hopeful.
I turn toward the bathroom, and I hear a long sigh and puff of bedding, and I imagine he throws himself onto the bed, still palming his cock as he did. Would he finish himself whilst I was in the shower? Would I finish myself? I’d been so close this morning. So close to reaching the climax I’d been denied for the past year. I let the water run warm until I step in. I soap myself up, running my hand over myself. My breasts are heavy, my pussy still wet from this morning’s man-handling.
I reach between my legs, my finger slipping inside me easily before I pull out and circle my clit. I lift my leg onto the bench and imagine running from someone on the street outside before they push their way into my home. I scramble up the stairs, knowing full well I’d be the kind of person in a horror film to run upstairs from an intruder.
But you want to be caught.
