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Aria looks down at the mess, the rise and fall of her chest mimicking my erratic heartbeat. “Say please,” she demands after a moment, a cocky grin spreading across her face.
I chuckle, not believing what she just asked me. “You want me to beg?”
Aria’s hands come to rest on my shirt. “Yes. If you want it so bad, big boy, you’ll have to beg for it.”
Big boy? Holy fuck, this woman…she’s going to make me fucking do it, isn’t she?
Taking my silence as hesitation, Aria adds a smug, “That’s what I thought.”
She tries to lift herself off me, but I pin her down. There’s no way I’m letting her get away.
I’ve never had to beg a woman to get into her pants, but Aria, whose last name I don’t even know, could probably get me to do anything with that damn smile.
“Please, baby.” I grit out, my voice gruff and deep. “Let me feel you. I’m not sure I’ll make it if you don’t.” Are you serious, man? I can’t help it, though. I would crawl on my knees if she asked.
Satisfied with my begging, Aria’s face lights up into a sultry smile.
It’s enough to make me grab her by the back of the head and plunge my lips onto hers. They taste so fucking good. It should be a crime. Her mouth is sweet and smokey—probably from the alcohol she was drinking—and I can’t get enough.
“Fuck, Aria. I can’t take it anymore. Slide your pussy onto me, please,” I groan.
The mere thought of having her wet hole engulf me makes my cock strain in my pants. I need it out and inside her. Stat.
Aria’s gaze falters, her hesitation palpable in the way her body shifts. Her eyes fix on mine again, and it looks as if she’s contemplating a leap into the unknown. Did I mistake her intentions? No. She’s kissing me back with hunger, she’s soaking, and she made me fucking beg. The only other explanation would be her supposed fiancé, though she didn’t seem that bothered about him either.
Not able to keep my dick in its confines anymore, I slightly shift Aria to the side and unbuckle my pants, sliding them down just enough to get some relief. Her wetness has traveled through the fabric of my trousers and onto my briefs. The wet spot mixes with the one created by the pre-cum gathering at my tip. I’m so hard, it’s almost painful.
Aria looks down at me, her gaze full of heat as she bites on her bottom lip. But her hesitation seems to hold her in place, like an invisible force preventing her from moving. Some kind of inner conflict and indecision flicker in her eyes. Maybe there is a fiancé.
Placing both hands on her hips again, I slowly grind her onto my crotch some more and she lets out the smallest of mewls. I need her to stop thinking, to just give herself to me. “Do you love him?” Why do I even care?
Aria’s posture tenses as she thinks about her answer.
“No,” she replies, her tone soft. It’s a confident answer, but there’s something lying underneath, something that’s bothering her.
A spark of curiosity hits me. “Then why are you getting married?”
I know little about Aria, other than that she’s friends with Angelica, Evander’s new affliction.
Her eyes fixate on me as she brings her hands to my shoulders, her fingers twitching almost imperceptibly, as if debating her next move. Her hips, still swaying against me at a delicious, steady rhythm. There’s a play of emotions beneath the surface of her gaze, and I want to uncover them all.
“Why are you getting married?” I repeat, and all her emotions morph into one: anger.
“That’s none of your business,” she grinds out, and I raise my eyebrows, surprised at her response. Two seconds ago, she seemed worried, soft and small. Now, she’s back to that feisty girl from downstairs, and I can’t help but grin at her outburst.
“It’s not, huh? Well, little liar, I don’t think you have a fiancé.”
A frown draws her brows together as she crosses her arms at her chest. “How so?”
Letting my fingers crawl up her back, I stop at the ends of her hair, playing with the silky strands. “For starters, you wouldn’t be straddling my lap like a cat in heat.” Aria gasps, her eyes widening in disbelief.
Suddenly, her facial expression switches into something more like shock, and she shoves my chest. I laugh.
“Second, you’d be wearing an engagement ring. I’m sure you’re a woman with morals who wouldn’t take it off to go clubbing with her friends,” I say matter-of-factly. I might not know Aria, but from her sass and the way she was quick to say she wouldn’t have sex with me, I know she has self-respect.
Aria lets out a puff of air, defeat etching across her face. I knew it.
Her shoulders slump. “Fine. I’m not engaged…yet.”
