Page 46 of Stroked Hard
I can’t handle him. I don’t text back. Instead I go to my bedroom, pull out my vibrator and strip down. It’s going to be a long night if I don’t take care of my turned-on state, especially after envisioning his lips pressed against mine, only for them to fall down between my legs.
And then I hear the words he said at my door.
Next time I walk you home, your back will be against your door and my lips will be caressing yours. And after that, my tongue will be in your mouth, my hands dancing across your hips, moving up your stomach, teasing you but never really touching. And after that, I will be fucking you in your apartment, my tongue lapping up the arousal that will be dripping from that sweet, little pussy of yours.
Shit.
There isnodoubt in my mind he would be amazing at going down. Yup, pretty sure the man is a giver.Fuck. Me.
Chapter Eleven
Hollis
Holy hell, I’m sore. Two weeks before I fly out to Atlanta for our training camp before Rio and I can barely walk. Putting one foot in front of the other is torture.
Glancing up the stairs to my condo, I sigh. I did an endless amount of stairs today, thanks to Holly.
One more dive.
One more dive.
If she uttered those three words one more time, I was going to take two fingers and pop her eyes out.
Ten-meter platform when I was young seemed like fun. Now, training for the Olympics, not so much when you have to constantly walk up stairs, especially when I was working off a protein bar and some measly nuts.
Sugar. I need fucking sugar.
As I walk up the stairs to my condo, I mentally take inventory of my cupboards. Gluten-free bullshit that I eat when I’m trying to shred, meat in the freezer, water in the fridge. Nuts, protein bars, vitamins . . .
No fucking sugar. Not even sugar to bake with. Right about now, I would stick a spoonful in my damn mouth and salute Mary Poppins. I’m desperate.
Making it up what seems like a fourteen-thousand-foot mountain, I unlock my door and throw my gym shit on the ground. I can bother with it in the morning.
Takeout menus.
I need to find my takeout menus.
Taco, the lazy fuck, is resting on two stacks of pillows on my couch. He barely lifts his head to acknowledge my presence as I sift through my place. Normally, little dogs are yappy little fucks, not Taco. He’s older, more mature, at least that’s what I like to tell people. I don’t bother saying he’s the laziest dog ever. Fetch? Yeah, he doesn’t know what that is. Whenever I try to play, it turns into Taco pushing the ball and me chasing it. How the fuck that happens, I have no clue. But I refuse to play anymore; it’s demeaning to me.
“What’s up, Taco?” I call out, finding my takeout menus and filing through them. “Daddy’s home. You going to make out with me later?” It’s the only godforsaken action I’ll get. And to be honest, his little dog tongue does nothing for me.
I eye my dog, who doesn’t even care to answer my question. I’m going to take that as a no. Fine by me, I didn’t feel like making out with him anyway.
But I am horny as fuck.
The blinds are shut, making the condo rather dark, so in my perusal of food, leaning toward pizza and one of those pizza desserts, I open the blinds, letting the light in.
Taco scrunches and turns his head away. “Get the fuck over it,” I say. “You’re not a vampire, you won’t shrivel up into dust. Vitamin D is good for you, Taco.”
If he wasn’t so lazy, I would take him for a walk. Women like men with small dogs, as they think it’s cute. But every time I try to go for a walk with him, he winds up rolling on the ground and playing dead which then leads me to having to carry him the rest of the way. It almost feels like once again, he reverses the roles and he’s the one taking me for a walk.
The dog demoralizes me when I’m just trying to be a good pet owner.
“What do you think, the chocolate chip pizza pie and a large veggie?” I’m scanning the menu when movement from outside catches my eye. A woman in a neon yellow sports bra and black spandex capris is stretching outside on the lawn. Her honey-brown hair is pulled up into a ponytail, exposing a beautiful long neck.
Yup, I know that fucking neck. I’ve had dreams of kissing that neck.
And the body. Fuck. Me. Her small waist swells at her hips, giving her a heart-shape backside, a backside I want to dig my fingers and teeth into.
