Page 48 of Payback
We take the steps one at a time, Allie giggling every time we hit a noisy board. Almost all the steps are noisy, though, since the house is so old, which means she giggles the entire time. My cock is obviously enjoying it, though, because I feel it thickening inside of my jeans with our ascent.
By the time we reach the third level, she rounds the railing and skips past a small kitchen and a bathroom. She opens the door at the end of the hall, which reveals her bedroom. It’s a large, white-walled space with a giant four-poster bed covered in a pink floral duvet. There’s a green armchair by the window with a book tossed on it, but the space is pretty bare other than that. Not even a stray sock to be found.
“I like your room,” I say by obligation, curious as to why she wanted to show it to me so much when it has nothing personal of value inside of it yet. I walk over to the large window and pull back the lace curtains to glance at the view of the street. “It’s cosy.”
“I’m still waiting for my stuff to arrive from Chicago, but I like it here,” she says as she kicks off her heels and closes the door, pressing her back to it and watching me with a pointed look in her eyes. “I never want to leave.”
“Your bedroom?” I ask nervously because she’s currently reminding me of the woman I met two years ago. A woman who knows exactly what she wants, and I know that’s a hard woman to deny.
She nods. “And my bed. Feel it.”
She tiptoes over to her bed and flops down, spreading her legs out wide so her skirt rises up. She pats the space beside her, and I know this is a bad idea. A really bad idea.
I join her because I evidently enjoy torturing myself. But I have the sense to lie myself a good two feet away from her, so there’s still some fight left in me.
“Isn’t it comfy?” she moans, making my cock twitch again.
I swallow. “It’s comfy.”
She turns on to her side and props her head on her hand to stare at me. “You look good in my bed.”
I smile and turn my head to look at her, doing my best not to stare at the line of cleavage this angle creates. “Why is that?”
She shrugs. “Your dark skin against the pale colours. Kind of like how you looked in your uniform during your game today.”
My brows lift flirtatiously. “Did you like how I looked in my uniform?”
She covers her eyes and drops her face into her duvet, obviously embarrassed by admitting that fact. “Maybe,” she mumbles against the fabric.
I press my hands to my stomach as I chuckle. “No need to be shy.”
I turn on my side to watch her as she twists her head to prop it on her flattened hands. She stares at me with a seductive gaze for a minute and then suddenly moves to sit up on her knees. With a coy bite of her lips, she crawls toward me.
I flatten onto my back, my hands shooting up by my ears in defence. “What are you doing?”
She throws a leg over my waist and begins unbuttoning my shirt. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
I reach down and still her motions. “You’re drunk, Allie.”
Her face furrows. “I’m not drunk!”
I jerk my head up and retort, “You’re definitely not sober.”
She scoffs and blows a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. “Well that’s different than drunk, okay? I know what I’m doing.”
I shake my head again. “Let’s just talk.”
“Talk?” she barks. “We talked all night. And we danced all night. Now it’s time for us to fuck all night.”
She giggles and squirms her heated centre down on my cock in a way that makes my halfy turn into a fully. I throw my arms over my eyes to shield myself from the very sexy image of her body gyrating on top of me.
I growl in sexual frustration. “You’re making it really hard to be good right now.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to be good,” she states, her face lowering to my ear as she adds, “Maybe I want you to be bad.”
When she presses her tongue to my neck, I swear to Christ it takes every muscle in my body to not grab her by the waist, roll us both over, and fuck the ever-loving shit out of her.
My swollen cock slides along her clit as she pumps her hips in frantic need. “Oh my God, you feel good,” she groans, and I want to kill myself.
