Page 44 of Wish I Might
“Your dick is still inside me,” she said, amused.“I don’t think you have to ask.”
“Yes, I do,” he said, and for a moment he was as serious as a judge.Mouth unsmiling, eyes solemn and patient as he waited for her answer.
But her throat had closed off, emotion she didn’t care to examine too closely thickening it, and she couldn’t answer.So she shrugged, feigning a nonchalance she didn’t feel, and made her boobs bounce again.
A small smile curved his lips, but his eyes stayed serious.He moved that last little bit and touched her, tracing one finger around her nipple.It had gone soft with the dissipation of arousal, but when he drew his finger gently around the sensitive skin, it began to pucker and tighten again.
He made some sound in the back of his throat, like a hum or a faint groan, the sound infused with delight.“I love your tits.”
“I know,” she said, forcing a smug note into her voice.She had to, or she’d melt into a puddle right there in his lap, and then where would she be?
Oblivious to her inner turmoil, he flashed a grin.“They’re great tits.”
“I know that, too.”She had to make him stop touching her, or she’d melt into that puddle and completely lose the upper hand she’d come down here to regain.“Where’s my shirt, Nash?”
Eyes glued to her nipple, he waved his hand.“Over there, I think,” he said absently, clearly unconcerned, then began tracing her other nipple with the same delicate touch.
Ignoring it, she turned her head.Her T-shirt lay on the floor between the bed and the door, too far away to reach.“Well, shit.”
“Problem?”
She looked back at him.He was staring at her breasts like they were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen, rapt and absorbed.He had both hands on them now, cupping them gently while his thumbs circled and stroked over the now puckered tips.
It felt really nice, and it was turning her on again.Him too—he was starting to thicken inside her.Which meant it was time to go.
“Not for me,” she answered, brushing his hands away.“But you’re going to be doing laundry again.”
The disappointment on his face turned first to confusion, then to understanding, and he shrugged.“So?I don’t have any plans for the day.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why.He had plenty of friends, most of whom shared his enjoyment of outdoor sporty things, and she would have assumed that someone would’ve invited him to go biking or hiking or herd sheep on a sunny Saturday in June.But she bit the words back—it wasn’t her business.
So she braced her hands on the thick slab of his abdomen and lifted herself up.His penis flopped out of her to slap wetly against his groin, still mostly soft but quickly becoming otherwise—she should’ve said no when he’d asked to touch her boobs, dammit—and then came the gush.
She hovered there for a moment, balanced on his belly, and watched the puddle form.Thick, viscous fluid, hers and his, mingled into a shiny little pool next to his stiffening penis.She wanted to swirl her fingers through it, rub it over her skin.Rub it over her nipples for him to suck off, rub it onto his thickening erection for her to suck off.Scoop it up on her tongue and pass it back to him in a kiss.
But instead she just watched until the gush became a trickle, then the trickle an occasional drip.When it seemed she was empty—or close enough—she climbed off him, off the bed, and scooped her T-shirt off the floor.She pulled it over her head, letting it settle into place before looking back over her shoulder.
Hands tucked back behind his head, he watched her with hooded eyes.The puddle on his belly was spreading, his dick almost back at full staff.It was harder than it should have been to take a step toward the door, then another.She’d much rather crawl back into bed and let him make a mess of her and the sheets again, then cuddle up and fall asleep until it was time to go to the salon while he slept in the wet spot.
He’d always slept in the wet spot.
But that would upset the balance again.She’d already gotten her revenge—such as it was—taken back her power, balanced the scales.So why didn’t she feel balanced and powerful?
Ignoring the fist squeezing her heart, she worked up a casual smile.“See you later, Nash.”
“See you later, Bay.”
The nickname had that fist squeezing a little tighter, but she just sent him a saucy wink, and with the last little bit of come sliding down her inner thigh, sauntered out the door.
Heading for the stairs to her bedroom, she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.She needed a shower, then she was going to take herself out for a diner breakfast, where she would flirt with the waitress and eat ridiculous amounts of bacon and pretend she hadn’t felt fragile and strangely weepy for a moment back there.
And she definitely wouldn’t think about how, when the fragile, weepy feeling came over her, all she’d wanted to do was crawl back into his arms.
* * * *
She went out for breakfast, flirted with the waitress, and read a book on her phone in an effort to avoid her own thoughts before heading to the salon.She was booked solid with back-to-back appointments, and a handful of walk-ins kept her too busy to think about Nash.
At least enough to tell herself she’d successfully put him out of her mind.
