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“But what? We have twenty-two races, Mallory. Seven more months together. You want to keep fighting this for seven months?” My poor dick will be chafed and raw in another week, much less seven months.
“No. Just not yet, ok?”
I’m conflicted because she’s not arguing and this is technically a win for me, but what the hell are we waiting for? Mallory does not strike me as the kind of girl who’s waiting. Unless she’s looking for a commitment from me, which we would need to get to the bottom of now. I want Mallory but I don’t want to hurt her if she thinks this is a long term thing. “Why?”
Her hands drop to my shoulders and her eyes lower, “I have a boyfriend. Technically.”
“What?” I drop my hands from her sides and her head lifts at the elevation of my voice, the surprise in my tone. What boyfriend? We’ve been dancing around each other for weeks playing this game, and she’s never once mentioned a boyfriend. The memories of Kate fucking around behind my back left scars I’d rather forget and hell if I’m going to be her back-up dick while she’s away from home. “What does ‘technically’ mean?”
“It’s over. And not because of you — it was over a long time ago. I just need to tell him.” My eyes squint and I cross my arms over my chest in front of me, which makes her lean back further. “I should have ended it before I left, it’s been done for months.”
“Then why didn’t you?” I question her skeptically.
“I’m going to catch so much shit from my parents,” she sighs, “and I don’t know, I guess it was just easier to go through the motions and pretend than it was to deal with the real problem.”
Fuck, can I relate to that. I exhale a deep breath and my shoulders relax; I didn’t realize they were flexed and tensed up from her revelation.
Mallory puts her hands back on my chest and I let my hands fall back to her hips. “Call him and do it, then.”
“He won’t answer my calls or texts,” she says, warm little hands running over my pecs.
“What sort of pussy is he?” I don’t know what kind of man doesn’t answer calls from a woman like Mallory who is overseas and away from him, much less working with a bunch of F1 drivers. It’s a full-blown sausage fest and, at a minimum, you’d think he’d want to check in that she’s safe. We’re in a different country every other week, for fuck sake. No clue who this prick is, but he’s a pussy.
Mallory giggles but doesn’t disagree. Her skirt is still hiked up around her waist, exposing the black triangle of her thong to me. I’m pissed but I’m dying to know if she’s bare underneath it or if she has a patch chestnut curls. “I’m going home tomorrow to deal with it.”
“Tomorrow?” Again, I knew nothing about this. I don’t know why it pisses me off. Jack is supposed to be making her travel arrangements now, he should have told me.
She nods, trails one finger up and down my chest, and bats her long eyelashes at me. Little minx. “You gonna send me home like this?” She teases.
“Get rid of him,” I order.
“I will,” she whispers and lowers her head to my neck, one soft kiss under my ear. One soft kiss on my collarbone. One soft kiss on top of my shoulder.
“Mallory…” I warn her.
“It’s ok,” she runs her tongue from my shoulder all the way back to my earlobe. Boyfriend or not, my cock is ready to tear a hole in my sweatpants to get at her. “I’m sure another gentleman on the long plane ride home can help me out.”
“Fuck that,” I roar, grabbing her ass cheeks and dragging her up against me, creating friction of her hot core against my throbbing dick. She laughs at first, thinking she’s won the game of making me jealous until I rotate my hips into her and her eyes slam shut and she gasps. “When are you going to be back?” I ask her, watching her neck arch and her chest heave as she starts grinding against me.
“Ch-China,” she moans.
Two more goddamn weeks. I don’t share women and I’m not doing this until it’s officially over with her pussy boyfriend. I’m not Dickless DuPont running around with other men’s girlfriends. It may be over in Mallory’s head, but I need confirmation for myself.
From the moans and the way Mallory is digging her nails into my shoulders, she’s as hot as I am. I know she’s full of shit about finding some rando on an airplane but still, it would be ungentlemanly to leave her in this condition. I’m an asshole, not a monster.
I pull her in all the way up against me and I tilt my hips. She’s pushing down on my dick and I can feel her moisture through my sweats. Wrapping my hands around her hips, I drag her up and down my shaft. Dry humping was never this hot the last time I did it, which was probably high school.
I latch my mouth onto the swell of a breast that’s heaving out of her shirt, the first few buttons undone. If she’s going home to see some other guy, she’s going home marked. I bite and suck until I’m sure she’s got o
ne hell of a reminder of me while she’s gone.
“Lennox, oh god,” she pants. Her legs are trembling around me and her motions are getting sporadic, twitchy.
“Come for me,” I growl.
“Ah, fuck, I can’t come like this. I need you,” her eyes are clamped shut, her fingers are pulling my hair so hard she’s going to have a fistful soon.
“You can and you will.” I push into her harder with my cock. She needs to come for me before I blow my load in my pants like a novice. My length separates her folds and I can feel her clit rubbing up and down over me.
