Tonight I was fresh out of self-control.
“Okay,” she said, coming to stand behind me. She rubbed the towel then pulled it free, fingers running lightly through my hair. “How do you want it cut?”
“What?”
“Your hair? How do you want it cut?”
“Um, I don’t care,” I managed to say, mind spinning. “Whatever you think looks good.”
Becca stilled.
“You didn’t really want a haircut, did you?”
“Oh, I wanted this,” I muttered, the words 100 percent true. “You got no fucking clue.”
“I think this might be a bad idea,” she replied hesitantly. “You know, I’ve had four beers tonight. Maybe we should just go to bed.”
The words fell heavy between us.
“Bed works.”
She giggled nervously. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
“C’mere,” I told her, catching her hand and pulling her around in front of me. Becca came to stand between my spread legs, reaching up to play with my hair again. Her gaze was a little glassy and her nipples were hard as rocks, which was all too visible since the front of her tank top was soaking wet.
A decent man would’ve pointed that out.
Instead I wrapped my hands around her waist, tugging her closer.
“How do you think I should cut my hair?”
“You shouldn’t. It’s perfect just like this—free and loose. Suits you.”
Holding her gaze, I ran my hands up her sides until my thumbs rested on the underside of her boobs. She swayed and I caught the fabric, inching it up. The soft pants she wore hung loose on her hips, leaving the expanse of her stomach visible. The little dent in the center called to me.
“This isn’t a good idea.”
“Probably shouldn’t think about it then,” I replied. Her stomach smelled like baby powder and it tasted like heaven. Need burned in my stomach, pulsing up into my cock. I kissed my way toward her breasts without hurrying, which wasn’t like me. Part of the reason I’d stayed away wasn’t just because of how we’d met—it was because of who I am. I don’t say sweet things and make love and all that bullshit. I like sex hard and rough, no holding back. Over the years I’d scared women off, which never bothered me in the slightest. If they couldn’t give me what I wanted, they were useless.
Becca needed soft. Now I was the useless one.
I could pretend, though. At least for a little while. Moving upward, I nudged at her tank with my nose, finding the underside of her breast and sucking at it. One hand drifted down to her ass, cupping and massaging until she sighed and leaned into me. I found her nipple and licked it.
Becca gasped, her hands clutching my hair tight.
Pulling the nipple deep into my mouth I tasted her, mind playing back over the last time we’d done this. I’d hurt her, but Jesus, it’d been good. Felt guilty every time I thought about it, which was often. Daily. My cock was solid as a core sample, every heartbeat throbbing painfully. Becca moaned, the sound soft and sweet.
That did it—the monster inside me broke free, killing the lie.
Fuck this nice shit.
She squealed as I stood abruptly, her legs wrapping around my waist instinctively, which suited me just fine. My fingers dug deep into her ass as I shoved my hard-on into Becca’s softness. The painful, tight grip of my jeans was fucking horrible and amazing all at once, because we were finally making some progress toward what I really wanted.
Rocking into her with my hips, one hand reached up and caught her hair, jerking her head back roughly. My mouth went for her throat, biting and sucking and licking as she started thrashing.
Trying to get away?
Too late.
I finally had Becca at my mercy after years of thinking about her, imagining her, jacking off with her face in my head while I twisted and burned in frustration. Her innocence and age had been the ultimate cock-block . . .
She was all grown up now.
I took six steps across the floor, dropping us both into the couch, covering and pinning her with my body. Then I had her hands caught up and over her head, trapping her exactly like she was in my sick fantasies.
“Puck,” she moaned. I cut her off with my mouth before she had the chance to say more. My tongue dove deep, claiming her and branding her like I’d be doing with my come just as soon as I got our clothes off. The logistics of that were still up in the air . . . The laws of physics implied that I’d have to back away to get my jeans off, but every time my hips ground into hers I was more determined than ever to stay well and fucking put until I came.
Eventually I pulled my mouth free, dragging it back down to her tits, sucking them in hard, desperate to taste more of her.
“Puck,” she said again, her voice full of need and surrender. I ignored her, reaching down between us, finding the top of her pants and pushing them down. Oh fuck, she was wet. My fingers slid in, opening her fast and hard. Becca shrieked, her back arching up and off the couch. My thumb found her clit and started playing with it as her hands fought for freedom.
Sweet Jesus.
So wet, so deep, so amazing . . . I couldn’t wait to get inside. Ladies first and all that shit, so I kept my fingers moving when Becca gasped and called out my name again. We moved fast—probably too fast—but the thought of slowing down was beyond my ability to comprehend. She cried out, whimpering.
Close. So fucking close.
She’d come soon. Then it’d be my turn and fuck if I could imagine anything on earth I’d ever wanted more. Becca exploded around my hand, pulsing and shuddering, clutching my fingers hard enough to remind me just how tight she’d been around my cock.