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Sleeping is overrated anyway.
I stay at the garage later than I’d intended, to finish work on a car, then drive like an asshole, too fast and overtaking slow-moving life forms on my way to the apartment, loud rock playing loud enough to be heard from the moon.
JC isn’t in, which is a relief. The guy is okay, though a bit strange sometimes, but I want to have Cosima all to myself tonight.
Humming under my breath, I pace the living room like a caged animal—and then I stop to check how I look in the full-length mirror by the door for the second time.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask my reflection, giving my worn jeans, Quiet Rock Death T-shirt and rumpled hair a quick once-over. “You look the same as always. Stop this shit. You’re not some love-struck teenager.”
Huffing, I resume my pacing. Yeah, not nervous at all.
When the doorbell rings, I race to open as if the fucking world will end if I delay. Then she’s right there, standing on my doorstep, and the world rights itself again.
“Hi,” she says. In her black jacket, slinky blouse, short skirt and high-heeled boots, with her dark hair in a ponytail and dark red lipstick on her mouth, she looks darkly sexy, like a succubus come to steal my soul
I think there’s a cat on her dark T-shirt, but hell, the swell of her tits is far more interesting, drawing my gaze.
How did I ever mistake her for her sister, that girl with the bangs, conservative dresses and sensible pumps?
Grabbing her hand, I drag her inside and close the door, then press her to it, molding my body to hers. “Hi,” I whisper.
She gasps, her purse sliding off her shoulder, hitting the floor. I push the jacket off her, sliding my hands down her arms.
Her eyes zero in at my mouth, though, and when I kiss her, she loops her arms around my neck, her lips parting, her tongue tangling with mine.
Oh yeah.
Feels like I’ve been waiting for this for years, even though it was only yesterday I kissed her and touched her. Fuck, I love pressing her against things so I can crush our bodies together, feel every inch of her, feel how she responds and reacts to my mouth, my hands, my stiff dick that’s trying to drill through my jeans to get to her.
Her hands slide around my neck, and I feel her nipples harden through the material of her blouse, diamond-sharp points against my chest. She tastes of strawberry gum and sexy girl, and her breathy moans are driving me crazy. I slip my hands down her hips behind, to her ass, and haul her harder against my hard-on.
Damn, I need her naked, right now, and the thought of having her spread underneath me, all bared to me, sends more blood flowing south, more and more, until I think I’ll come in my pants.
“I want you,” I whisper against her soft lips.
“Merc…”
I lift her up and she laughs. “Bed, now.”
Damn, I love carrying this girl around, having her sweet weight in my arms, her arms around my neck. I carry her to my bedroom, kick the door open and lay her down on my bed.
Mouth roughened from my kiss, cheeks flushed, eyes wide, she’s hot. Her dark hair is coming out of the ponytail, spreading on my pillow, her tits are rising and falling fast.
Goddamn… I lick my lips, reach down trying in vain to adjust my painful hard-on inside my pants. She’s like a Christmas present, in that short skirt and thin blouse. I want to unwrap her.
Take her.
Slowing down is gonna be a problem. My dick likes her way too much.
My dick is clever. Good boy.
“Down, boy,” I whisper, and she grins, a kittenish tilt of lips and small sharp teeth that makes me groan. “What are you doing to me, woman?”
“I’m not doing anything!”
“But you are.” I undo my zipper, trying to get some relief and her grin fades, gaze focusing on my crotch. “Getting me so hard I can’t think.”
“Then stop thinking,” she murmurs, sitting up and reaching for the hem of my T-shirt, shoving it up and running her hands over my chest. This shouldn’t feel so good, her touch, her face uptilted, her eyes gazing right at mine as she explores, running over my pecs, and down to my abs.
