Page 22 of Puck with Karma
I am quickly at the point where getting naked is a must. When I pull her closer to me, I am at first distracted by the fact that I can feel her magnificent chest against mine. But then, I realize that I still have my puffy coat on. It is great in the cold weather outside, but not so great for this purpose.
There’s nothing attractive about the way I push my mouth harder into hers as I try to unzip my coat without interrupting our heavy kissing session.
“Don’t go,” she whines when she thinks I am about to push her away from me.
“I’m not going,” I murmur around her mouth, then dive my tongue back in, tasting every recess of it, loving her unique flavor even more than I love her body.
My hand is still on the zipper of my coat, but it’s not moving. Instead, it feels stuck or something. I bring my other hand to hold onto the bottom of the coat, then yank as hard as I can.
Just as I do that, Abigail’s mouth pulls away from me.
“Ow,” she cries out, leaving me as confused as ever. I look down and see her blond head against my chest.
“Baby,” I smirk. “You need to be patient. We’ll get to that part soon enough.”
I yank at my zipper again, and her hands come up, grabbing her hair.
“Stop,” she yells at me.
I freeze, my hands still on my coat.
“This is weird,” I inform her. “Just so you know. But I’m willing to go with it because you’re hot.”
“Jesus,” she mumbles from somewhere down there. “My hair is caught in your zipper.” At least that’s what I think she says. “It pulls every time you yank on it.”
I finally get why her face is plastered to my puffy coat covered chest instead of sucking on my lips like her life depends on it.
“I’m not sure what to do here,” I finally confess when a few extra tries just leave her close to being in tears.
“Just hold still,” she begs. “I think I see what the problem is.”
Well, that’ll make one of us, because I can’t see shit down there.
I’m not sure how long it takes, but she finally frees herself from my zipper and lets out a huge sigh of relief.
“That hurt so bad.” She rubs at the painful spot. She then drops her head forward. “Can you see the tapes?”
I stare at her head, unsure of what she’s asking.
“You have tape in your hair?” I finally ask, but, to be honest, I’m scared of what she might say next. What did I get myself into? She’s hot, but if she’s crazy, that won’t mean anything.
She snorts at hearing my tone. “I have extensions. Hair extensions,” she clarifies when I don’t react right away.
“That’s fake hair?”
I point at her in wonder, but then I feel bad. She looks embarrassed.
“It looks pretty damn good, girl,” I assure her. “I would’ve never guessed.”
She looks away, refusing to meet my eyes. I swear it’s as if she wants to cry, but she’s refusing to do it in front of me. I also notice that she is shivering from head to toe. With a damn perfectly good winter coat laying right next to her on the floor.
I am about to make a comment on that when my cell phone starts ringing. I don’t want to answer, but when I notice it’s Burt downstairs, I worry it might be a security issue.
“Mr. Hamilton,” he says when I greet him. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He’s known me for years, and he refuses to address me by my first name. “Miss Bennett left her binder and purse down here. After she dropped it,” he adds. “I tried taking it to her apartment, but there was no answer. And now I’m worried. She looked distraught, and…”
I turn my head to look at her. She still is distraught, which is not how I thought we’d be five minutes into her visit to my apartment.
“She’s with me,” I tell Burt. “I wasn’t sure which one was hers, so I brought her up here. Bring it all over.” With that, I just hang up.
