Page 19 of Washed Up
“Am I?” I counter.
She immediately shakes her head.
“Then nor are you.”
“Even though I made out with Reid?”
“Even if you do so again.”
Her face lights up like I’ve said something magical. Like she was looking for raindrops and found diamonds instead. “I really want to fuck you,” I say. I want her to know how much I want her. “But I don’t want to rush you, if you’re not…”
She applies her hungry mouth to mine, and her dainty hands rake across my back. “I want you, Max.”
“We’ll take it slow.”
“We don’t have to.”
We do. I’m a big guy, and she’s titchy, besides, I want to watch her come, and once I’m inside of her, I’ll be too far gone to truly appreciate the beauty of it when she comes apart.
“Max,” she gasps again, encouragingly. It’s a sound I want to hear again and again. This is crazy, but good crazy. Sometimes you have to let go, say shove it to the rules, and just follow your instincts. It doesn’t matter if she’s into my band mates too. I still want this. I still want her.
I get my thumb in on the action, using it on the underside of her clit while I use my fingers to give her a taste of what’s to come. Hardly takes a moment before she’s groaning out her orgasm and flooding my hand with her juices.
“Fuck,” she cries. “Fuck… oh, fuck.” She tries to reel me in, as her muscles spasm around my fingers.
“Put it in, Max.”
“So needy,” I tease. “You can have a little taste, but no more than that until after dinner.”
“I don’t want to wait until after dinner. More now, please. Max!”
I obligingly give an inch. It takes every bit of my strength not to push deeper. None of this was planned. I didn’t come prepared, and I don’t carry condoms around in my pockets.
“I’m on birth control,” she ventures. “If that’s what’s holding you back.”
Shivers race through my body. The grip of her is intoxicating. I’m only just inside her. It doesn’t count as penetration. Not really. “Don’t tempt me.”
I’ll succumb if she does. I know I will. She’s like my personal Siren. At her command, I’ll obey her every wish. It’d be so easy to pull her forward right onto me.
She wriggles and gasps as I stroke the head of my cock through her wetness away from her entrance and up to strokeher clit. The way she gasps reminds me of the shiver of my high-hat when it’s tapped extra lightly.
“I never thought you’d be into torture.”
“This is agony for me, too.”
I watch her as I tease my cock back and forth between where she wants me to slide and the external pleasure point that’s now hard as a bead.
She wails as I touch her there. Makes a frantic grab for the nearby tea towel and shoves it into her mouth.
The late afternoon light streams through the window over the sink to our left, and paints licks of amber through her hair. She spits out the towel to lock our lips again, while her fingers press into the small of my back, coaxing me closer.
I could do it. So rarely am I ever first at anything. I’m only a narrow thread away from casting caution to the wind.
Last of us to ever be kissed. Last to know the divine sensation of wet pussy cradling my cock. Last to discover my musical ability.
I’m the afterthought. The other guy in Lucidity.
Iris never makes me feel like that.
