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“Yes, cute. I’ll send you the pictures. The judges have made their decision.”
Karessa removes her apron to reveal the crop top she’d donned to match the little scrap of material she calls shorts then moves in front of the table where Miko and his boys sit.
I’m not surprised when a panel full of straight men declares her the winner. I know she’s not. I tasted her cake.
“The contest winner needs to be chosen by the cake on your plate, boys,” Ainslee sing-songs. “Not influenced by the half-naked person who made it.”
“Hey!” Karessa says to Ainslee in faux hurt because even she knows she didn’t win by her own merits.
“Oran won, we all know it,” Jagger points out without looking from his phone. “Ains, use your professional overrule power.”
“I didn’t expect you to be on my side, but dang Jagger,” Karessa complains.
He smiles at Karessa. “I’m just being honest. The dinner you made was delicious, your cake wasn’t.”
“You baked it too long, sweetie,” Ainslee agrees.
Karessa grabs a fork and takes a bite of her cake then drinks some water then tastes mine.
“Fine,” she reaches out to shake my hand. “Congratulations or whatever.”
Her fake ass praise amuses me. “As my wife, aren’t you supposed to root for your husband?”
“Not when we’re competing, ass.”
“You came in second place,” I deadpan with a soft knock to her chin.
She leans in closer so only I can hear her. “If we were having sex, this would be the time I’d tell you you’re not getting any tonight.”
I grab her chin and drop my voice to a whisper. “First, if we were having sex, there wouldn’t be a baking competition because we’d be fucking right now. Second, if you were taking my dick, not giving me some would never cross your mind. You’d be hooked.”
Karessa bares her teeth, but her eyes shine with lust.
“That’s how I lost in the first place, you big tease. Go take your victory lap, sir.”
* * *
They’re fucking again. I don’t blame them, if we were in the same situation, Karessa and I’d be just as bad. This week has been hard on my dick, or shall I say my dick has been so hard all week, I’m no longer capable of ignoring the problem. Going in, I’d refused to give myself relief, but I must if I want to go to sleep. Karessa sleeps behind me with her head resting near my back, and her arm is slung over my side. I smirk remembering her requesting to be the big spoon so my dick couldn’t poke her. Looking down, I see the evidence of her prediction. Karessa’s sweet body on my back doesn’t help. I’d prefer to do this in private, but I don’t want to wake her since she’s finally resting.
Gently, I dip my hand inside my pajamas and pull out my throbbing dick. It’s so hard, touching it has me biting my lip. My eyes flutter closed after a few strokes, allowing the rhythmic thumping provided by our neighbors to serve as background noise as I fantasize about how it’ll feel to bury myself inside Karessa’s pussy. I swallow a moan as I grip myself tighter with each stroke. The image of Karessa bouncing on my dick in tune with the sounds from the other side of the wall is getting me close to the orgasm I need.
“Oran?” I freeze, although my body is begging for me to continue. Karessa’s voice is soft and raspy. It’s not helping my condition because now I have sleepy sex fantasies. I’d love to fuck her awake. “Don’t stop.”
I frown in the dark, trying to figure out if she’s talking to me or in her sleep. Her leg slides up mine until her inner thigh rests on my hip. The heat of her thighs and pussy warms my waist, and her breasts press against my back. Karessa’s soft hand skims the hem of my shirt. I didn’t realize how much I craved her touch until her fingertips connect with the bare skin at my waist for the first time. The simple contact pulls a surprised moan out of me.
Karessa’s face is close enough to tease the back of my neck when she whispers, “Keep going.”
Her encouragement makes my dick harder, and it pulses in my hand. My hips jerk a little once I continue. No longer hiding, the enjoyment of getting myself off increases beyond any solo session before it.
My excited hiss when my thumb slides over my sensitive head has Karessa rubbing herself on my back, her breathing accelerates, coming out in small erotic puffs of air on the nape of my neck.
“Karessa,” my moan is strained with lust because her nails grazing my stomach coupled with her soft lips pressing light kisses along my neck has me dizzy with excitement I’ve never felt while masturbating.
“Fuck, Oran. This is so hot. I want to help…” She’s higher now, kissing along my jaw. “But I know you won’t let me.”
“Later.” I say it rough and short. I’m too wound up to speak.
“I know, Hell.” I’m almos
