Текст книги "Addicted to Sin"
Автор книги: Monica James
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
5
Good vs Evil
DIXON
Another uneventful weekend has passed where I stayed indoors and steered clear of all females. Bumping into Juliet on Friday night has thrown me, because I can’t stop thinking about her. What I told Hunter was true. Yes, I am ridiculously attracted to her, but it’s not just the physical attraction. She really does intrigue me.
Although I’ve been lost in my Juliet spell, I haven’t forgotten about another woman I found just as intriguing as Juliet. Madison. It’s uncanny that I have met two women in the span of a week. I say uncanny because I couldn’t even find one woman after Lily who remotely sparked my interest, but now I have two.
These two women are polar opposites, yet I find myself attracted to both. From the brief minutes spent with her, I could tell Madison was sweet, innocent, and pure. But Juliet, there’s nothing sweet nor innocent about her. They truly represent the stereotypical devil and angel icons.
“Dr. Mathews, Ms. Harte is here to see you. She’s a little early. Is it okay to send her in?” Susanna says through the intercom, jolting me from my thoughts.
Taking a deep breath, I push down on the button. “Thank you, Ms. Vale. Please send her in.”
Looking at the clock on my laptop, I see that Juliet is fifteen minutes early, and knowing this sly vixen, there’s a reason why. I remain seated as the door opens, and in strolls the devil.
Juliet looks out-of-this-world hot, and irony has once again decided to play with my emotions, as she’s wearing a bright red dress, totally dressed for her hellish part.
“Ms. Harte,” I address her, clearing my throat.
She knows I’m checking her out, but she doesn’t shy away—she simply reaches around her lithe torso and locks my door. Turning around to meet my stunned eyes, she grins, her glossy lips looking good enough to eat.
“Ms. Harte?” I repeat, attempting to sound stern, but I’m so pathetically turned on, my voice betrays my awakening.
“May I call you Dixon?” she calmly says, taking a small step toward me.
“I don’t think that would be wise. I’m your doctor,” I reply, my eyes briefly dropping to her cleavage.
“I thought about you last night,” she confesses with a grin.
I calmly nod, ignoring my rampant libido. “It’s not unusual for one to think of their doctor when they start treatment. Therapy evokes new feelings in everyone.”
Without pause, she shakes her head and evenly states, “No. I thought of you while touching my pussy.”
Holy…shit. I nearly fall out of my seat at her confession. I’m beyond stunned, but more so, I’m incredibly turned on by her sexual aggression.
“I was imagining it was your hand fingering me, coaxing my body to come. I think your fingers could make me come with a single touch,” she declares, licking her wet bottom lip as she takes another step toward me.
I really should be backing away from her, demanding she get out of my office, as this is utterly unethical. But if I stood, my hard-on would really make my Good Samaritan act void.
“Ms. Harte.”
“I thought I told you to call me Juliet,” she purrs with seduction.
“Well, when you’re in my office, I think it’s best we stick to formalities. Now please, would you be so kind as to unlock my door?” I say, barely holding onto whatever wisdom is animating me right now.
“I may be in your office, Dr. Mathews,” she replies, “but we’re technically off the clock. I mean, my session doesn’t start for another thirteen minutes. Couldn’t we just be Dixon and Juliet for those thirteen minutes? Not doctor and patient?”
No, we most positively should not be Dixon and Juliet, because Dixon wants to violently clear his desk and throw Juliet onto it while he fucks her into next week. But my resolve is slowly slipping away and Juliet can see it.
I want this woman more than I want air itself, but I have a feeling that if I let her in, she’ll destroy me. She’ll consume every part of my entire being, and I don’t want to lose myself that way ever again.
“Dixon,” she moans, gliding a hand down her body.
I visibly swallow, my eyes not believing what they’re witnessing as her fingers begin lifting the hem of her dress until it bunches mid-thigh. All that creamy, supple skin on display has my dick punching a hole through my pants, but I try my best not to give in.
“Do you want me to show you how much I want you?” she asks, her big blue eyes widening in yearning.
I refuse to reply, because yes, fuck yes; I want to see everything she has to offer. So I remain mute, as this is totally Juliet’s show.
She saunters over and rounds my desk, while I push back in my chair, leaving room for her small frame to fit between me and the desk. The movement has revealed my tenting erection, and Juliet’s eyes smolder with the sight.
“I knew you’d be big. Watch me.”
That’s definitely not going to be a problem, as I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.
Juliet leans back and presses her ass against the edge of my desk as she slides her dress up until it bunches around her waist. I’m instantly hit with her smell of desire, and I almost come in my pants at the mouth-watering scent. Her tiny black thong barely covers her pussy, and as she slips her fingers inside, I can appreciate the phrase “less is more.”
Tiny moans escape her parted lips as she seeks refuge inside herself, and my eyes remain transfixed on the jerking movements her hungry fingers are making as she begins pleasuring herself.
“Hmm…I’m so wet,” she pants, and I swallow hard. “Here, let me show you.”
Before I can object, Juliet removes her fingers and reaches forward, rubbing her pointer along my bottom lip. A knowing grin spreads across her lips as she watches me struggle with my self-control. My tongue instantly darts out, lapping up what Juliet so kindly offered, and the mere taste is enough to have me salivating in need. It takes all my diminishing willpower not to bury my face between her legs and take over. As much as I want to do that, the vision of watching her touch herself is far more appealing than me helping her along.
Her shallow breaths tell me she’s close, and as she unsteadily leans further back, needing to gain deeper access into the cavern of her body, I do the only thing a gentleman can do. I wrap a firm hand around her waist and anchor her so she can really reach her climax with no restrictions. The moment we make contact, she groans in the back of her throat and tosses her head back, her eyes shut tight. She extends one hand behind her, resting it on my desk for extra support, while the other never ceases from the frenzied movement inside her thong. Her hips pump forward violently as she almost attains her goal.
It’s nearly too much, and I just about come in my pants like a pubescent teenage boy. But I refuse to look like an inexperienced child and blow my load just by watching Juliet touch herself. I dig deeper into her waist, my fingers betraying how turned on I am by watching this wicked sight before me, and my firm pressure sends Juliet wild. As her frantic rhythm becomes untamed and wild, she unexpectedly falls onto her back, as the hand supporting her slips out from under her.
She’s now lying on her back on my desk, her legs dangling over the edge, while her fingers are recklessly coaxing her to come. As her back bows, she lets out a low growl and her body undulates as I watch her explode. It takes every ounce of self-control to not flip her over and make her mine.
I’m not sure how long she lies sprawled out on my desk, breathless and totally spent. But I don’t attempt to make a single move, because watching this profound creature is akin to discovering a hidden treasure. I take her in, appreciating the way her lissome body comes down from its high, and I know I’m screwed. I’m utterly enchanted by Juliet Harte, and we haven’t even fucked.
Juliet turns her head, looking at the clock above the mantel. With a sated sigh, she slowly slips down her dress. I try not to weep, as I preferred her barely clothed. Ever so slowly, she rises to full height, but remains seated, her legs hanging over the edge of my desk. She places one stilettoed foot between my parted legs, and rolls my chair toward her. Of course I don’t hesitate and allow her to draw me closer to her body, curious as to what comes next.
My chest is pressed against her legs, and my eyes are now crotch level. My restraint really is commendable.
“Thank you, Dr. Mathews,” she says, and leans forward, placing a single kiss on the corner of my mouth.
Before I can even think of a response, she hops down from my desk and smoothes out her dress before taking a seat on the sofa. I stare, stunned, needing a second to process what the hell just happened. She just called me Dr. Mathews, therefore, does she expect our session to go on like nothing happened?
As she reaches for her bag and pulls out a compact to check her reflection, I know that’s exactly what she expects.
I just watched the hottest woman I have ever met come all over my desk, and now I’m expected to play the role of therapist, ignoring the fact my hard-on is about ready to blind anyone who walks through that door.
This is seriously fucked up, and suddenly I think I might be the one in need of therapy.
We never have drinks on a Monday. What with Finch’s daddy duties and Hunter’s shiatsu, it’s fair to say Mondays are usually off limits, but when Hunter called me and heard the disbelief in my voice after Ms. Harte’s session, he called an emergency catch-up, and that’s what brings us to now.
If my day wasn’t uncomplicated enough, I’ve organized to meet up at The Pony Bar—Madison’s place of employment. Yup, I’m a masochist.
“So, how’d it go?” Hunter asks, reaching for his beer, awaiting my bombshell.
“Well…” I commence, lost for words. “Finch, do you want to block your ears?”
Finch holds both hands up, shaking his head bravely. “No, give it to me. It can’t be that bad.”
If only he knew.
Lowering my voice, I lean forward, and my friends do the same. “She got herself off…on my desk…in my office. And I watched.”
Jesus, that sounded dirty. It certainly didn’t feel dirty when I watched it happen, but saying it aloud makes it sound like a kinky peepshow.
There is dead silence. I look at my friends, needing them to say something, anything, because the silence is killing me.
“Guys?” I say, waiting for one of them to tell me I’m not as perverted as I feel.
Hunter’s mouth is hanging open, but a half smile mars his features, as he’s no doubt visualizing the very graphic picture I just painted.
“Finch?” I ask, looking at my best friend, who has paled whiter than a ghost.
“She m-masturbated…on your… desk?” he shrieks, breaking the silence a little louder than anticipated.
“Shh!” I whisper, gesturing with my hand for him to lower his voice.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes with a frown. “But Dix, oh my God, who is this woman? Who goes around jerking off on their psychiatrist’s desk?”
“Apparently Juliet Harte does,” Hunter says with a chuckle.
“Dixon, Gabriella has been in your office. Oh dear lord, my baby daughter has been subjected to a bordello!” shouts Finch. I groan, as his volume control is nonexistent tonight.
Totally ignoring his melodramatics, Hunter asks with a wink, “So did you, ya know?”
“No, I did not,” I reply, reaching for my scotch, failing to mention that she didn’t even offer.
“So what happened?”
“Nothing. We had our session…”
“Hold up,” Hunter interrupts, brushing his hair from his face, as it’s slipped free from his manbun. “You still went through with the session?”
I pathetically nod because the situation is as ridiculous as it sounds.
“You are either the smartest, or stupidest motherfucker alive!” He laughs, slapping his hand on the tabletop.
“He’s definitely the smartest. Good on you, Dix,” Finch says, nodding his head in encouragement.
“Thanks, man. At least you’re a good friend.” I look pointedly at Hunter.
“Hey, don’t be hating on me. I told you to handball her to another doctor. You’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”
I sigh because he’s right. It was absolutely ludicrous attempting to act professional. The session was a total disaster, and I should be ashamed of myself for allowing it to ever get that far.
“You’re not seeing her next week, are you?” Hunter asks with an incredulous look.
“Well…” I reply, guiltily chugging down my scotch.
“Are you insane?” Finch cries, sitting tall in his seat. “Dixon, this person is a dirty, dirty, slutty slut from the planet ‘I’m a big whore who masturbates in offices where babies have been!’ You need to never see her again, and you need to buy a new desk!”
I can’t help the laugh that rumbles from my chest; Finch is utterly entertaining when riled up. Hunter joins in and Finch runs a hand over his full beard.
“You guys are sick bastards.”
And just like that, I instantly feel better.
“I’m going out for a smoke,” I say, pushing back my chair.
“Make sure you don’t bump into any masturbating nymphos on your way out,” Hunter playfully chides while I flip him off.
Walking through the packed restaurant, my thoughts drift to Juliet and the predicament I find myself in. The right and smart thing to do would be to tell Ms. Harte I can no longer treat her. But that thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth, and I have no idea why.
My mother was a devout Catholic, and in times of crisis she would tell me to pray to the Lord, and apparently he was supposed to give me some magical answer. I really could do with some answers right about now, so God, if you’re listening, how ’bout you cut me some slack and give me a sign. Please?
“Oh, shit!” a voice from beneath me—yes, beneath me—yelps.
I jolt back, part in shock, part in horror, as I blindly walked straight into someone. Now that poor person is sprawled out on the floor on her stomach.
“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you,” I say in a rushed breath, quickly dropping to a squat.
“It’s okay,” she replies, laughing quietly.
As she turns around to face me, my words get caught in my throat. “M-Madison?”
I knew she worked here, that’s part of the reason why I’m here, but I wasn’t expecting to literally bump into her.
“Dixon?” she says, gasping. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here with friends. We’re having drinks. And you did say if I was ever in the neighborhood…” I reply, mesmerized by her stunning green eyes.
“Oh.” She sounds surprised that I actually came.
I suddenly realize she’s still lying sprawled out on the floor, and like a jerk, I haven’t even offered to help her up.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. Here, let me help you up.” I offer my hand, which she gratefully accepts.
The moment she sits up, I see that her white T-shirt is ruined because when she fell, she was holding a tray of drinks. The drinks have spilled haphazardly across the floor, and I feel like a total ass, as I know those drinks will probably come out of her pay.
“Let me pay for those,” I quickly offer, reaching into my pocket to pull out my wallet.
Madison waves me off. “It’s fine, honestly.”
“No, I insist,” I press, trying to do a mental calculation of how much the drinks would have amounted to.
“It’s fine, Dixon,” she perseveres kindly, placing a gentle hand on my wrist to halt my movement.
The moment her fingers meet my skin, a zap of something singes through my body, and we both pull away, taken aback by the unpredicted response. My eyes unintentionally drop to her soaked chest, and I see a hint of her pink bra peek through the sheer material. She may be a small girl, but damn, she sure is blessed in the boob department.
I quickly clear my throat and raise my eyes, as I’m sure she can see me staring at her.
“I better get back to work,” she timidly says, and makes a move to stand.
I move out of her way, and also stand awkwardly, not knowing what to say next.
I’ve forgotten how short she is, and standing in her black Chucks and black shorts, she looks simply adorable. Her long brown hair has slipped free from a loose ponytail, and with her stained T-shirt, she looks a total mess—but not in a bad way. She looks like a beautiful disaster.
“Well, see ya,” she says with a wave, when I don’t say anything.
“Oh, yeah, okay, bye.” I find myself wanting to ask her what time she gets off, but I don’t.
I just watch as she makes her way into the kitchen, leaving me to once again question what the hell that was.
6
Like an Animal
DIXON
It’s Friday, and my week has thankfully remained drama free since Monday. I intend to keep it that way.
Juliet’s very public display of self-gratification has definitely been an inspirational vision to accompany my jacking off, but funnily enough, so has Madison’s innocent pink bra. I’m attracted to both women, but for entirely different reasons. It’s not as simple and clear cut as this, but I’m drawn to Madison’s innocence while I’m enticed by Juliet’s depravity.
I haven’t really figured either of them out yet, but now that I know Madison works Mondays, I intend to pay her a visit and try to get to know her better. As for Juliet, I’m actually a little afraid to get to know her better; I have a feeling the real Juliet Harte would eat me alive for breakfast.
The phone thankfully interrupts my thoughts, and I answer on the third ring.
“Hello, this is Dr. Mathews.”
“Dixon, my friend, how are you?” says Chad Turner, who is on the Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences board.
“Hello, Chad. I’m great, thank you. To what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask, getting straight to the point, because this isn’t a social call.
Chad chuckles, no doubt appreciating my forwardness, as neither of us are one for small talk. “Dixon, I’m calling because I would like to extend a formal invitation for you to attend our annual Gerald Harriet’s Fellowship Award night, which will be held later in the year.”
I take a moment to process what he just said, as this is big. I’ve been trying to get an invite to this prestigious ceremony for years, but I’ve always missed out.
Without further delay, I reply, “Chad, I would be absolutely honored. Thank you.” And I mean every word.
But I can’t help but wonder why this year is different.
Chad must be able to read my confusion as he quickly clarifies, “Although you’re not in the running for the award this year, your research on neurobiology and addiction hasn’t gone unnoticed by the board. You keep it up, and next year, you’ve got a real good shot at being a strong contender.”
It’s every doctor’s dream to be invited to this event, but the hint of possibly being nominated next year is phenomenal.
Keeping my calm, however, I reply, “Well, I better ensure I keep up the good work. Please send all information to my office, and I’ll make sure to RSVP by the date.”
“Excellent. I look forward to seeing you there,” Chad says happily. “Keep up the good work, Dixon. We’re keeping a close eye on you.” He hangs up before I have a chance to reply.
Holy shit, this is beyond amazing. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that me, Dixon Mathews, the only son of an Italian migrant family, would get this opportunity. I think this calls for a celebration.
Reaching for my phone, an unexpected thought occurs to me. Chad did say they’re keeping a close eye on me. And yes, I’ve mostly kept my nose clean, but this situation with Ms. Harte could certainly turn ugly and taint my career if it ever got out.
What happened earlier in the week would definitely result in my license being revoked for unethical conduct. I’ve worked hard to maintain the noteworthy position I’m currently in, and I cannot, or rather, I will not allow my cock to fuck up something I’ve worked too hard to achieve.
With a defeated sigh, I lift the receiver and page Susanna.
“Dr. Mathews?”
“Hello, Ms. Vale. There’s a patient I need you to contact.”
“Of course. Who might that be?”
Taking a muted breath, I reply, “Ms. Juliet Harte.”
“What would you like me to tell her?” Susanna innocently inquires.
Ignoring the pang of regret, I sigh. “Please let her know I can no longer treat her, and pass on Dr. Geo’s details.”
“Not a problem, Dr. Mathews. Is there anything else you would like me to say?”
There are a thousand things I wish I could say. But this is for the best.
“No, Ms. Vale. Let’s leave it at that.”
Friday night drinks are what get me through the week, and after today’s news, I can’t wait to kick back and have a few beers with the boys to celebrate my good fortune.
“If I may, I would like to propose a toast to my good friend, Dr. Dixon Mathews, who may be a womanizing jerk at times—” I roll my eyes, but listen to Hunter’s heartfelt speech “—but he’s shown great restraint by saying hell no to the foxy nympho to save his career. Some may say he’s gone crazy, or maybe even turned a little soft, but I’m proud of him for putting his blue balls in his suitcase, and focusing on what’s important.”
“Amen!” Finch butts in, raising his glass of Coke.
“Thanks. I think.” We clink glasses, and I take a well-deserved sip.
I’ve told them about my decision to no longer see Juliet, and they were both in agreement that it’s for the best.
“So, now that McSlutty Slut is outta your life, are you gonna cuddle up to that cute little brunette from the other night?” Hunter asks, waggling his eyebrows.
“McSlutty Slut? Jesus, that’s a little rough.”
Hunter shrugs. “I call ’em as I see’em.”
“Well, if everyone lived by your rules, whatever do you think they’d call you?” I ask, smiling.
“They’d call me Hunter…the God of fuck.”
I chuckle, while Finch rolls his eyes.
“Stop changing the subject, you pussy. So, the brunette? What are your plans?” He rubs his hands together mischievously.
After bumping into Madison the other day, the boys have been on my case to go visit her. Both Hunter and Finch commented on some weird “love eyes” I had while looking at her—I honestly have no idea where they come up with this shit. But truthfully, I have been thinking about her, and I do plan on visiting her soon, just not right away.
I don’t want to come across as desperate, or come on too strong, so I’ll keep my cards close to my chest for now.
Sick of being the lab rat for the evening, I ask with a wink, “So, how about you, Hunter? Passing for Chris Hemsworth’s brother surely helps with the ladies.”
Hunter takes a sip of beer, shaking his head. “He already has a brother, and if the ladies he attracts are any indication of what’s headed my way, I’m more than happy to keep flying solo.”
I know he’s trying to be funny, but the tension around his eyes reveals something is off. I decide to drop it for now, but make a note to ask him later when he’s drunk and in a sharing mood.
“So basically, this scrawny little fucker is the only one who’s getting laid. How sad is that?” Hunter gags, while I thump Finch on the back.
“Way to go, Finch. You and Heidi planning on practicing for baby number two?” I ask, nudging him in the ribs.
Finch blushes, and I can’t help but laugh. He really is too easy to tease.
“How’s Heidi’s…?” Hunter motions to the front of his chest with a disgustingly perverted smirk.
Finch pales.
“I would appreciate you not talking about my wife and her breasts,” he whispers, “in that way.”
“What way?” Hunter asks, his mouth tipping up into a mischievous smile. “I could have said how’s Heidi’s babyfeeders, cans, jugs, knockers, airbags, coconuts, funbags, tatas or wopbopaloobops, but I didn’t. And besides, I could have been talking about the new knitted sweater I saw her wearing last week. Sheesh, you’re a sick, perverted bastard, thinking about sex all the time.”
Finch shakes his head with a disgusted frown, while I howl in laughter, blessing the day I met these clowns.
After one too many scotches, Finch is begging Hunter and me not to become lion tamers, but the idea is really ingenious, and I can’t believe I haven’t thought of it sooner.
“You, my man, are too uptight,” Hunter slurs, straddling the statue lion, which is standing proud and tall outside the library. “You need to loosen up.” He strokes his cheek over the concreted mane, sighing contently.
Everything is so much funnier when you’re slightly inebriated, and Hunter and I are getting to the stage where almost everything is funny.
“Guys, get off the damn lion!” Finch pleads, while Hunter and I ride the statue proudly.
“Let me ride this big pussy in peace,” Hunter playfully retorts, while I lose my balance and fall onto my ass, laughing rowdily.
“Dixon?” a familiar voice asks in shock.
My laughing abruptly dies the moment I hear her, and any hilarity gets caught in my throat as the voice I’ve been trying so hard to forget addresses me once again.
“Dixon, are you okay?”
Closing my eyes, I count to three before calmly opening them, and I attempt to not keel over when I see the beautiful face of my ex-fiancée. My heart beats against my ribcage frantically, as the organ is beyond elated to see her again. My brain, however, knocks some sense into my whimsical center, and I harden the fuck up.
Standing to full height, I ignore the fact I’m completely drunk and my shirt and tie are askew as I offhandedly reply, “Hi, Lily.”
Looking down at my leather shoes, I sigh, as I see I’ve stepped in pink gum. I look like a total slob, but Lily looks immaculate, as usual.
She’s in a tight black dress which stops mid-thigh. Memories of how those long tanned legs wrapped around my neck while I ate her out for hours assault my brain. However, as my glance falls to her face, I see a silver tiara entangled in her long blonde curls. I can’t help but think how out of character a tacky gimmick like this is for her. But then my daft brain registers the fact she’s wearing a bright pink sash with the big, glittery words “Bride to Be.”
The simple phrase may as well have just told me to go fuck myself, and highlight what a failure I am.
Suddenly, I realize the date, and remember it would have been our one-year anniversary this weekend. But instead of mourning, or looking remotely reflective, Lily is out celebrating her bachelorette party, looking absolutely stunning and happy.
She doesn’t seem at all bothered that she would have been my bride-to-be a year ago. She doesn’t even appear to care that this is the first time she’s seen me in so many months. She simply doesn’t care that she tore out my heart and left me a shell of who I once was. I gave her my all, and it still wasn’t good enough.
I wasn’t good enough. But my best friend was.
However, lifting my head in pride, I snicker, making a point of looking at her sash. “Congratulations. I hope he can provide you everything that I couldn’t.”
“Dixon, wait!”
“Wait for what?” I spit, hands out wide. “For you to tell me how happy you are?”
“I’m s—”
Before she can finish, I cut her off because if I hear the word “sorry” pass through her deceitful lips, I just may hurl. “Save your excuses for your husband.”
“Dixon!” she pleads, reaching out for me.
But I storm down the stairs, ignoring the calls of my best friends. I also ignore the wounded look on my ex-lover’s face. But she can go to hell, as I’ve been wearing that same look since the day she walked out on me.
I simply ignore everything and focus on the only thing that makes a lick of sense.
I shouldn’t be here. But this was the first place I thought of running to.
I don’t know how to deal with these pent-up feelings. I never have. Other people’s feelings, I know how to resolve, but when it comes to me, I just want to forget.
Even for a stolen moment, I just want to forget how much it hurts to love someone who doesn’t love you back.
My fist pounding against the door is in sync with my hammering heart, and the moment it opens, the primitive animal comes roaring out of me and I attack.
“Dr. Mathews? Are you okay?” Juliet gasps, taking a step backward, her eyes widening in surprise.
“It’s Dixon,” I growl and barge into her apartment, kicking the door shut behind me.
We stare at one another, the air sizzling with an intense, electrical current as we engage in the ultimate standoff. Juliet appears confused, but she remains silent, awaiting my next move. Before she has a moment to protest, I pounce on her, smashing my ravenous mouth to hers. She hesitates for a fraction of a second, but then it’s game on.
We tackle one another, both demanding dominance over the other, but I willingly submit when she violently unclasps my belt buckle and shoves her hand down my pants, palming my hot erection. I’ve gone commando, so she goes straight in for the kill and hungrily begins stroking me, her small hand barely wrapping around my straining shaft.
I pump forward, my hips jerking frantically, needing the friction to be harder and faster, and thank fuck, Juliet complies, her wicked fingers pumping with vigor. I’m about five seconds away from coming in her hand, so I pull away, because when I explode, it’s going to be inside of her.
I push her backward and she stares at me breathlessly, anticipating what happens next.
Reaching for the low neckline of her black lace slip, I rip it down the middle, letting it glide away like melted butter from her hot little body.
I take a moment to appreciate the sight of pure perfection in front of me, and just when I thought my hard-on couldn’t get any harder, my dick twitches and painfully demands to break free. The pinkest, perkiest nipples sit erect and swollen, highlighting her flawlessly round, creamy tits. They are more than a handful, and I can’t wait to bury my head between those pillows of perfection, and see if they’re as soft as they look.
“Spectacular,” I say with bated breath.
As she cups both tits and begins plucking her nipples, I can’t wait a second longer. Lunging forward, I clasp her bicep and spin her around, smashing her front against the wall. I know I’m being extremely assertive, but my passion is assailing my last tether of rationality, and I need to consume this woman before I explode.
Sliding my hand around her slender waist, I dip down and slip a finger into her slick, warm wetness, and we both moan at the swift intrusion. Ramming her hips backward, she reaches down and interlaces her hand through mine, inserting a long finger of her own.
We’re both steadily fingering her, but this is my show, so I nudge her hand away and insert another finger, stretching her wide. She cries out, taking me deeper, and moans the instant I go in all the way. Her inner muscles clasp around me and I finger her fiercely, showing her no mercy until she comes with a quick, explosive cry. The sound is music to my sex-starved ears, and I yank down my zipper before the final tremor can rock her sated body.
