Page 29 of Lust & Lies
“You should get some rest while...” He swallowed. “While I bring the luggage in and clean up the plates I broke.”
Fuck that luggage and them plates!
“What about this?” I asked, squeezing his cock again, causing him to jerk, thrusting against my palm.
“Noelle,” he groaned. “We can’t.”
“You sure?” I said, refusing to beg for the dick.
“I’m sure.”
Damn. Damn. Damn.
I released him. “Okay.”
His gaze searched mine.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to force you,” I told him.
“It’s not that love,” he started.
“I should rest, remember?” I pulled my wrist free of his grip. “All this memory lost has me exhausted.”
I know I sounded petty, but horniness would do that to a girl.
“Baby, I...”
“Which way is my bedroom?” I interrupted, tone laced with frustration.
He sighed. “I’ll lead the way.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see him putting that anaconda back in his pants. So much hard cock going to waste. That should be illegal.
“When you’re truly ready,” he started as he zipped his pants. “I won’t hesitate to...”
“No worries. I’ll take care of it myself,” I interrupted, lifting my hand and fluttering my fingers in his face. “I have these, remember? Lead the way to the bedroom so I can finish what you started.”
Perhaps I was trying to guilt him into fucking me. Or maybe I was trying to push all his buttons, hoping it would lead to angry sex. It didn’t really matter because it didn’t work. He led me from the kitchen down a hall, around a corner, to a bedroom.
“This is a guest room. I want to check the main bedroom and ensure it’s ready before I take you there. But you can relax in here and watch television for now,” he told me.
Fuck TV. I wanted dick.
“Okay.” I stared around the room. It was cute, with a full-size bed, cute little bedside tables, a small television, and a bookshelf with no books.
“Do you need anything before I head outside?” he asked.
Got cock?
“Nope,” I told him.
He took a step back, gaze still on me. I moved toward the bed, eyes still on him. He continued backing up, watching me the whole time. I unbuttoned my pants and began unzipping them.
My husband turned and fled the room like I was Medusa or something. The door shut with a resounding thud. He was really going to make me take care of this myself. What was the damn point in having all that cock if he wasn’t going to use it?
He claimed he wanted to help me have a stress-free life while I healed. Right now, memory loss wasn’t what had me stressed the hell out. My husband refusing to give me that cock was.
Ugh!
