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Will she meet someone tonight? She looked smoking in that dress. I’d be an idiot if I thought men wouldn’t approach her. I certainly would.
Then there are other things like: Is she dancing? Who is she dancing with? How are they dancing? Who’s touching her right now?
If Isabel wasn’t sleeping upstairs, I’d probably put an APB out to find her, so I could throw her over my shoulder caveman style and bring her home.
These thoughts are becoming more intrusive and inciting by the second, so I pick an action movie to forget all about the beautiful woman who is so far out of my league she might as well be living on Mars.
A loud bang, followed by a fit of giggles, jolts me awake. I open my eyes and find myself lying on Mae’s couch with some random show playing on the television, and I wonder if that’s what woke me.
A glass object shatters on the floor, making me fling upright.
“Ow, shit.”
“Queeny?”
“I din’n mean to wa-ake you. Fuuck, I loved lat tamp. I mean, lamp.” She giggles at her misspoken words. “I said ‘tamp’.” More giggles, followed by hiccups.
Drunk Mae just might be my favorite. Her hair is a little wilder than when she left, and she looks like sex on stilettos, which look like torture devices. How she’s still walking in them is beyond me.
Holding my palm out, I warn, “Stay right there, and I’ll clean this up.”
She gives me a mock salute and kicks her shoes off.
Pulling the broom and dustpan from the pantry, I clean up the mess, making a mental note to look for another lamp just like this one. She did say it was her favorite. “So, I see that you had a good time with the girls.”
“I diiid.” Hiccup. “I felt like I wass twenty-years old again. I nevver wanted it to end.” Hiccup.
Once the shards of glass are thrown into the garbage bin, I turn to her. “It doesn’t have to.”
“It’s too late.” She whines so dramatically it’s comical. “I’m already h-home. Back to the griiind.”
Turning on the home audio receiver, I play the music Isabel and I were dancing to earlier.
“Ooh, I looove this song.” She starts an enticing swivel of her hips, and I almost bite my palm for the second time tonight.
God, she knows how to move ‘em.
“Danccce witt me, pleeease.” She pulls me to the living room.
I’ll never say no. “Okay. I’m only doing this for your entertainment because I’m praying you won’t remember this part tomorrow.” Dancing in front of Isabel is one thing because my moves are as graceful as a toddler’s. I don’t do it in front of people. Ever.
Queeny grabs my hands, pulling me to her, all the while swaying her hips to the rhythm. “Oh, I don’t think there’s anything I’d forget about you.”
She does a move that would bring any man to his knees. Turning around so her back is against my chest, she grinds her ass onto me. It feels so good I don’t even try to hide the raging boner she’s teasing.
“That so?”
“Ummhmm,” she confirms before sliding down my front like warm honey.
Fuck. I swear all my blood rushes to the head of my cock, making it throb and twitch. If she wanted to kill me, she’s succeeding. Shimmying back up, she turns and lays a lazy arm across my shoulder. The new position has her heat pushing against where I’m aching for her.
The track changes to an upbeat song about a man who would risk it all for the woman he wants. How fucking appropriate. My mouth dips to her ear, and I sing the lyrics because it tells her everything she needs to know.
“Yoour voice is sooo fugging ssexy.” She moans and—moving to the sensual beat of the music—drops her head back. Her throat is as inviting as a popsicle on a sweltering day.
I just want to suck it. Taste her. Drive her as wild as she drives me.
“Yeah, you like it?”
