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“It’s so… hard. And big.”
“Oh fuck. Keep talking dirty to me,” I mutter, out of breath.
“Can I touch it?”
“Jesus Christ, you’re killing me.”
Her hand drifts over my dick, and I still, groaning deep in my throat, trying to keep still, my hips jerking. Her touch is featherlike, barely there, and yet it burns. I feel it all the way to the root of my dick, in my balls. “Syd,” I choke out.
Her hand closes over mine. We tug together, once, twice, and I come with a grunt, spilling all over my stomach and my T-shirt, my jaw clenched so hard it aches.
Fuck.
“Wow,” she says, and I’m still coming. “So much of it.”
A startled laugh escapes me. I’m covered in cum, and her hand is dripping with it. “You did this to me,” I manage.
“I did?” She looks pleased.
I lean back, bracing one hand on the sofa—my clean h
and—examining the mess I’ve made on myself. “You sure did. I don’t usually come this hard when I jack off.”
She glances away, a shy gesture, and it makes me smile. “Good.”
Yeah, it was so good. Better than I thought, and it was just the excitement of having her beside me, of touching her and kissing her.
“I like it when you’re happy,” she says. “When you have pleasure.”
“Me too, girl.” I sigh and strip off my soiled T-shirt, then ball it up so my cum won’t smear on the floor as I place it by the sofa to wash later. “Me too.”
“I have to go.”
Of course she does. “Will you come by again some other day?”
“Maybe. Yeah.”
We don’t talk about what we just did. What it means, if it means anything.
About the fact she wants Nate, and Kash. I refuse to think too hard about it, because does it mean she wants me, too? I don’t want to jinx it by asking. If there is another time—a big fucking if—then we’ll see.
For now I can’t help the grin on my face as I walk her out.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nate
“Hey.” Lani—or Laurie?—leans against the bar at work, fluttering strangely long lashes at me. They look fake. “What are you doing later? Want to catch a movie?”
“Nah, later I’m hitting the sack.”
She pouts. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s true.”
She huffs and sips at her drink. She hits on me regularly every night. I bet she’d never imagine she’s hitting on a minor in a bar.
Not that I’d go out with her anyway. She’s not my type. None of the women hanging out at this dark dive are.
