Page 13 of Final Temptation
Making this a fast one, I began to fuck her throat, chasing the release I was desperate for. I’d give this girl credit for one thing—she could deep throat like a mother fucker. She made it easy to get to the tipping point in record time. Every time she pined for me when I walked into the gym, she sucked me off like she had been waiting for this moment ever since our last encounter.
I was getting close, and with a few more strokes, I’d be coming down her throat. Wanting to avoid a mess in my Jeep, I gave her the heads-up. “I’m going to come, sweetheart.” Her big blue eyes looked up at mine, glossed over from the rough thrusts in her throat.
Quick. Fast. I just needed to get the job done and come.
A loud grunt escaped me, my hands holding on to the back of her head, watching as she took every drop of me.
Another look at my watch, and we were right on time with a few minutes to spare. Just enough time for her to fix her running make up before getting back to work.
“Looks like you have to get back to work.” I pulled up my shorts, giving her a kiss on the lips, only leaving her wanting more. Unfortunately for her, I didn’t know when—or if I was going to return that favor.
As expected, she used my side mirror to check her makeup before heading back into the gym, and I moved out of my backseat and into the front. A satisfied sigh slipped from my throat, the peacefulness only lasting a few seconds, before my phone beeped with an incoming text.
Sophie.
The satisfaction wore off quicker than it ever had before—the text message on my phone being the sudden reminder of my latest impulse decision.
Bills were spreadacross my dining room table as I sifted through each one, creating piles, trying to decide which ones were essential. I desperately needed to get my life figured out, or I’d be twenty-three and living on the street.
Okay, I know that’s a bit dramatic. Paige will never allow me to have a box as a bedroom.
“UGH!” I flung backward, hitting the back of the dining room chair. The feeling of having to give up everything I enjoy most in life suddenly felt entirely too overwhelming. I had two options: give up all the good things in life, like getting my nails done, streaming apps, my gym membership, etc., etc. Or I could text Myles and see just how serious he was about moving out of his parents’ house.
So, what if Myles moved in? I could lock myself in my bedroom and ignore the fact that I’d have an insanely hot, fuck boy roommate. At least I’d have my nails done and still be able to watch all the trash TV.
“Fuck it,” I mumbled under my breath, shooting off a text to Myles, desperate to figure out if he was down to move in and help me out.
Me: Are we reallydoing this?
My body swarmed with anxiety after pressing send, but luckily not for long, when my phone went off a few seconds later.
Myles: You free for coffee? I just got done at the gym. Figured we could talk about it.
Me: I can meet you at Mugs in fifteen?
Myles: Sounds good. I’ll grab us coffee, what would you like?
Me: You know the worst thing you could do is offer to buy me coffee. You’re setting a standard and as my future *possible* roommate, I might have high expectations that you’ll make my coffee every morning.
Myles: Nice try, Soph. Time is ticking. Tell me your drink order or you’re getting an Americano.
Me: Large, extra cold, half-caff, oat milk, with five pumps each of caramel drizzle, white mocha syrup and cinnamon dolce syrup, a shot of espresso, extra whipped cream, extra caramel crunch topping and extra cinnamon dolce sprinkles.
Myles: Jesus fucking Christ.
Me: See you in a few!
Abandoning the bills I had lying around the table, I ran to the bathroom and quickly freshened up before heading out. “Fuck,” I whispered, “I can’t go out like this.” I was setting myself up to be five minutes late, but there’s no way I would meet Myles for coffee looking like I just rolled out of bed. I hadn’t seen him in person in months,and for some irritating reason, I cared what he thought of me.
I ran my fingers through yesterday’s curls, creating a natural beachy wave in my shoulder-length blonde hair. I didn’t go overboard with my makeup, just slapped some lip gloss on and called it a day before sorting through my laundry, looking for a cute and casual outfit. It was a perfect, sunny spring day, and my little yellow sundress was calling my name.
With one last look, I took in my appearance in the full-length mirror hanging behind my bedroom door.
It will have to do.
My dress was held up by thin straps, falling mid-thigh. It was snug enough to show off my curves, but not too tight that it was overly revealing. I paired it with some white sneakers, grabbed my purse, and made my way to the coffee shop.
Okay, so I was six minutes late; hopefully, he wasn’t the type to get mad that my internal clock always seemed to be a few minutes off.
