Shit, she’s fighting dirty trying to jog my memory of how she fucks like a sinner and feels like Heaven, as if it wasn’t permanently scored into me.
So why am I looking at her eyes and not her tits? Why am I anticipating the next round of verbal sparring when I should be using smooth lines to lure her back so I can prove her wrong?
“So, Colton,” she says, breaking through my civil war of thoughts and my absolute focus on her proffered tits and stupendous ass. “What can I do for you?”
Shit, we can start with you on your knees, me on the couch, and your mouth on my cock. The immediate image makes my head spin with need.
“Christ, Rylee!” I bark the words out, trying to stop her stretching, stop my thinking, when I’m the one that’s supposed to be taking control of this conversation so I can prove my point in more ways than one. And hell if every ounce of testosterone in my body says “please don’t stop.” Fuck getting the upper hand in the argument because when all is said and done, all that matters is that I get to bury myself in her regardless of how the point is made.
“What?” She bats her eyelashes again. Innocent façade front and center.
“We need to talk about last night.” I change the subject. Need to think of rainbows and unicorns and shit to calm my dick the fuck down. Allow me to give my apology for last night. Set one wrong to right before diving right into the next with her because deep down I know we are one of those disasters waiting to happen. Beautiful and devastating all at the same time.
The quick fuck I wanted to ease the ache for her turned out to be so much more than that. It’s moved into uncharted territory for me, and no matter which way I look at this, she’s added a complication to my simple, fuck-more-care-less lifestyle. She’s made me want her more than once, made me pursue when I don’t chase, and has me here apologizing when I’m a take-me-as-I-am-or-get-the-hell-out kind of guy.
But fuckin’ A, if complicated is flexible like that, I’ll take it.
And there she goes again. Making me lose my train of fucking thought as she lies on her back, pulls one leg up, and lifts her head to look at me over the mound of her pussy.
She thinks she can just sit and stretch and she’s going to win this little unspoken war we have going? That I’m just going to kowtow because it looks like she can wrap her feet behind her head and makes me think of the positions I can put that body in? That I’d give up the battle of wills here over something that clearly was mind-blowing?
It’s time I get some answers myself because if we’re both warming up on the same field, then fuck if I’m not ready to go one-on-one with her. I admit that I’m an asshole for treating her like shit last night because I couldn’t handle that weird fucking pressure in my chest, but what does that make her? Leave with tears but now flirt with me like she’s up for another go?
Goddamn women.
Too compli-fucking-cated is what they are. But if I’m going to test the waters again, I need to get my head wrapped around what’s in hers so I can get us back on the sex-without-a-future plan, then I need to know what she’s thinking. “Why’d you leave? Why’d you run away? Again.”
She switches legs and moans in pleasure, followed by my name. “Colton—”
Just like she fucking did last night.
“Can you please stop?” I can’t help it but if she keeps this shit up I’m gonna come in my pants like a goddamn teenager. And there she goes again, rolling over so her ass is my face. Thoughts of taking her from behind fill my head: hands gripping her hips, dick bottoming out as my pelvis slaps against her ass. “Christ! You in those yoga pants all limber and bending in half—you’re making me lose my concentration here.”
And something else if you keep it up.
Those violet eyes taunt me as they look over her shoulder. “Hmm?”
Oh, sweetheart, you know exactly what you’re doing. And so do I. You can’t beat this player at his own game.
“You’re gonna make me forget my apologies and take you right here on the floor. Hard and fast, Rylee.”
“Oh!” It’s all she can say, and I feel a slight thrill of victory for knocking her off stride. But fuck if her lips formed in that little O shape don’t have my thoughts drifting back to my couch blowjob fantasy from moments before. “Although I’m sure it’s me who should be apologizing, Colton.”
And there she goes, fucking up my thoughts of how I don’t want to feel anything for her by taking the blame for last night. The selfless saint martyring for the selfish sinner.
I’m starting to get irritated. Don’t make me feel. Don’t make me think of things outside what I can give you. I’m here trying to be bigger than the man I usually am by making sure she’s all right. That’s it. Simple and uncomplicated. And she says something like that and knocks me back. Makes me feel like she did last night when I shoved up out of the bed and left her naked body I would have rather lost myself in, long into the early hours of the morning. But no, I can’t allow anyone to get close to me and fuck if she’s not bringing us right back there with her attempt to apologize.
“Why’d you leave, Rylee?”
The harshness in my tone causes her to stare at me a moment before she answers. “A number of reasons, Colton. I told you, I’m just not that kind of girl. I don’t do one-night stands.”
“Who said it was a one-night stand?” I throw her own excuse for leaving back at her and immediately question myself and the implication I’ve now left open for interpretation. That’s exactly what I need with her to avoid the shit she unknowingly brought to life last night. What the fuck am I doing here besides muddying up the fucking complicated water even more?