Page 51 of Give You Up

Her tone is back to casual, and I fucking hate it. I would rather have Syn’s hope and confusion, using those emotions to further understand her with. And that thought . . . Jesus, I’m a dick. A curious one.

Who is her father? Why didn’t she talk about him then and doesn’t now? Who is this Bounce dude and why can’t Syn tell me more about him and the kid with the same eye color as her? Is the kid Syn’s? She never answered the question as to who the father of the kid is. If it isn’t Grady, who knocked up Syn?

The bed under me bounces the same time Syn’s weight presses down on my ass, yanking me out of my hate fest for Bounce and whoever got Syn pregnant. I settle my temper, having this need to prove to Syn that I can get through life without a crutch, without her rings, without her by my side, should she decide I’m not worth the trouble.

She is disgusted by the number of women I’ve been with. Believes I’m a hot-tempered, out-of-control jerk. Is probably in the same camp as my parents. That I will never commit or be faithful to one girl.

Syn squirms and wiggles on my ass, and all thoughts of faithfulness and my parents fall to the wayside. The only thought in my head is:Damn, I wish we were naked.

Her smooth inner thighs would stroke my outer thighs. Her lips would be soft and warm as she drops kisses across my shoulders and down my spine while her nipples grazing my heated flesh would have pre-cum glistening on the head of my cock.

Syn moves down and straddles my legs, just above my knees. No. No. No. I was digging the heat from her pussy on my ass. Liked how her thighs clamped onto my waist. Can imagine her slender legs wrapped around me as I pound inside her sex.

But I cannot think or imagine worth a damn when she starts kneading my flesh in this ebb of pressure and release, pressure and release, and I am . . . oh, fuck, I am hard.

“Jesus, baby, that feels so good.”

I press my face into the mattress. Groan. Moan.

Press my crotch into the mattress’s softness, my mind deep diving into the gutters. Images upon images of me doing dirty things to Syn.

Me sliding my cock inside Syn’s tight wet pussy. Me fingering her until she comes. Her warm, wet mouth taking me in, sucking and slurping until the noises she makes and how her mouth fits tight like a fist around my cock has me shooting my hot cum in her mouth.

Fuck.Fuck. I drag my nose across the bed covers. Side to side. In and out. Fingers pumping in and out of her.My dickpumping in and out of her. Jesus, I can’t breathe. I am dizzy. Out of breath. I turn my head to the side and gulp in breaths of air.

“Syn?” Shit, I’m panting.

“Yes?”

“I’m good, babe.”

“Are you sure? I can keep going.”

“Pixie Dust, touch me more and I’ll be begging to be inside you.”

She hops off my legs so fast, the bed does this funky dip and release thing. Chuckling at the hot mess we got ourselves in, at the sweltering temperature between us, and how my B-man is not wanting to settle the fuck down, I flip onto my back and check out Syn with my eyes hooded.

My, my, she is beautiful, sexy, sophisticated, hardcore in her long-sleeve short dress with a neckline that dips to her belly button.

“You wearing a bra or panties, Syn?”

“None.”

Fuck me. I close my eyes. Swallow down my desire.

“I want you, Pixie Dust.”

Needing to gauge her reaction, I open my eyes. Her lips are parted. Color high on her cheeks. Not shy, she trails her gaze from my face, down the center of my chest, and lingers on the outline of my cock beneath my black slacks.

“You said we’re a work in progress. Wanting one another is us progressing further, isn’t it?”

“Yes, baby. But only if you want it.”

“What if I don’t?”

“I’m fine with you not wanting something, Syn.” I’m not. What she says hurts.

“I do want you, but you’re not good for me.”

---