Page 61 of Wide-Eyed
Like she was in my fucking head, Lyssa reached up and started tugging at one of her nipples, moaning like a sexy banshee, which was a kink I didn’t know I had until today.
“That’s it, Princess” I murmured again, because I knew she liked it.
Her other hand worked faster then, all sense of rhythm gone the way of her self-consciousness. I couldn’t see what she was doing at all. I couldn’t tell if she was being kind to her sweet little clit or mean, or how many fingers she was using—maybe she’d slipped in another? I would have sold my fucking house to see how many fingers she had inside her, but I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn’t for me.
But damn, when she came, it still felt like a huge gift from the universe to one Mike Holliday.
Lyssa’s underwater pumping ceased abruptly then, and she let out a hoarse cry. Her back arched, pushing those obscene fucking tits out of the water. Her body shuddered and shuddered, then slowly, like a plant stretching to the light, the tension left her, muscle by muscle, and she sank back down into the water, a gooey smile on her face.
She was perfect.
Red-faced and sweaty, this was the most relaxed I’d ever seen her. She let out an exhausted giggle, and my heart flipped in my chest. I was a mess of feelings. Pride, because I’d put that look on her face. Frustration, because she’d been fucking losers who’d never given her the time or attention she’d needed. Jealousy, because monkey brain. Then, finally, a primitive kind of glee, because I was now the only one who had seen her come.
I was unhealthily obsessed with Lyssa Luxe.
I could admit that now, but I had resolved to keep my distance after the thing on the side of the road, because I knew my obsession had the potential to go nuclear, and it was clear I was way too experienced for her.
But all this resolve had crumbled when I’d seen her in my tub in her see-through dress. Frustrated. Needing me. And it wasn’t for me, what we’d just done, so I hadn’t really broken my resolve to stay away from her. This had been for her. It was basically a public service!
Meanwhile, I was going to split my pants with this tent pole of a dick.
Gritting my teeth, I ignored it.
I smoothed her hair back from her face. “How’re you doing, Princess?”
She mumbled something incoherent.
“Little Miss Shakespeare, lost for words?”
She mumbled something else. Could have been shut up Mike, could have been you’re a god, Mike. Probably that last one.
“Don’t you—” Her voice was hoarse, which just made me grin. Lyssa Luxe was a screamer, and I was the only person on Earth who knew that. The knowledge was like a fire in my chest.
“Don’t you have to go back to work?” she asked finally.
“Nah. Nothing on this arvo.”
I’d texted the party parent and told her we had to meet tomorrow. She hadn’t replied, so she might move her son’s party from Levitate now, but honestly, it was hard to give a shit at this particular second.
Slowly, I got to my feet. I was twenty-seven but kneeling so long on the floor made my knees feel twice that. Not to mention the agony of my stubborn stiffy.
Is excusing yourself to jerk off bad manners?
As quickly as the idea occurred, I disregarded it. It’d make me feel like a cat creeping away to die.
“You want an ice cream?” I asked my little banshee, who was blissed out in cooling water, smiling at the ceiling.
She blinked at me.
“Ice cream? You know, cold? Yum?” I mimed licking the air over my fist, which made her cheeks flush and my pants problem get worse.
I left her there to figure out for herself how to come back down to earth. I couldn’t stay in my current state.
In the kitchen, I pulled open the freezer door and stood in front of it, wondering—hoping—it could freeze off an erection.
Later, in my living room, Lyssa sat on my couch, wrapped in a fluffy robe that was pink and had different words for cheese written all over it.
While she’d been drying off, I’d busied myself in the kitchen, making cups of tea and putting scoops of ice cream in cones.
