Page 81 of Best Served Cold

Besides, my dick is aching to sink into her, especially after feeling how ready she is for me. Howneedy.

I really hope that kid has condoms. I hope he has hundreds of them, the way I did when I was his age and grabbed hopeful handfuls from every giveaway bowl I came across as if they were Halloween candy.

I take off my socks and my pants but leave on my boxer briefs, feeling like it would be too presumptuous to go fully nude.Even though she’s asked for sex and is seeking out condoms, she might still change her mind.

A grin stretches across my face when she knocks on the door to her own bedroom. At least I hope it’s her.

“Can I come in?” she asks in a voice that’s surprisingly shy given what she’s asked of me. Then again, that’s Sophie for you: sweet and spicy.

I open the door a crack, taking in the multicolor condoms she’s gripping. The sight nearly makes me laugh. It’s a very early-twentysomething stash. “What if I say no?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

“You won’t get to…” She glances over her shoulder. “Fuck me,” she whispers.

I could never get sick of hearing her say that, her slight embarrassment overridden by the defiance that’s been blooming inside her. Damn. This woman.

“You make a good argument,” I say, tugging her inside.

I close the door, lock it, and press her against it. This time I pull down her little shorts while she loses the shirt, the condoms still clutched in one hand.

“Winner’s choice,” I say, nodding to the colorful row. “What’s your favorite color?”

“I refuse to tell you.”

I smirk. “It’s pink, isn’t it?”

Her answer is to tear off the pink one. Yellow’s next. Then red. Then green. I’d like to use the whole rainbow.

“Will you take off your shorts?” she asks.

“Since you asked nicely.” I push them down one-handed, my other hand pressed against the door above her head, and my dick springs up, very ready for her. Her little gasp is gratifying.

“Put it on me,” I say, leaning in to kiss her jaw, her lips.

She opens the condom and then takes my dick in her hand—the feeling of her hand around me, nothing between us, nearly my undoing—and slowly rolls the condom onto it.

Damn.

Glancing up at me, her hand still wrapped around me, she says, “Can we do it against the door? I was thinking about you doing it, you know, against the lamppost outside.”

Damn, damn, damn.

“How about the wall?” I ask, picking her up by the waist and lifting her, her hair swinging a bit from the sudden motion as I set her back down on her feet. “I’d like to fuck you just beneath your ABBA poster.”

“You have an obsession with ABBA,” she says, sounding breathless.

I’m tempted to tell her that I’m starting to have an obsession withher, but I must still have a thimbleful of blood left in my brain, because I don’t.

Her hand finds my dick again and pumps rhythmically as I back her into the wall, my head bowing to suck on her nipples. Perfect. Fucking perfect. And I have a feeling I know who made her feel like they weren’t.

It makes me want to punch a wall, as much good as that would do.

I reach down to feel her, and she’s still so wet. Pressing my mouth to hers, I capture the little sound that escapes from her lips.

“You still want this dick?” I ask, partially because I want to see her blush for me.

She does, but she doesn’t look away to try to hide it. “Yes.”

“Do you have any high heels?”

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