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“Go to bed, Princess.”
But she comes up. “See, I had enough to drink to give myself the courage to get here, to see you. And I’m not drunk. Maybe a little tipsy . . .” She holds her thumb and finger about an inch apart. “But in complete control. It’s just giving me the courage to be brave and take a chance, so . . .”
She comes up to me. My shirt and shorts look good on her, and her nipples are tight and poking at the old cotton. I raise my gaze from her tits. Sidney looks at me like she wants to eat me. Or have me eat her.
Which is the entirely wrong phrasing, right there. Or maybe it’s right. And I want to devour her. I definitely want to eat her and defile her in all the ways.
“Go to bed, Sidney.”
She swallows and slides off the shorts, stepping out of them. “No.”
Oh. Fuck.
I can’t move.
Sidney takes another step closer. Then another and she pulls the shirt off.
She’s standing in my kitchen, fucking buck naked, the precise wet dream I was thinking of earlier.
I don’t move.
I know what I want to do.
Sweep her up and take what’s on offer, but something makes me stand there. Instinct. Because she needs to do this.
My noble plans of not doing anything because she’s had some drinks is long gone. I want her. Desperately. But she needs to touch me. She needs to start it.
My fucking prick is telling me she’s started it, and my brain’s starting to get behind that but my heart . . . that stupid soft thing which makes me pay more for a wreck of a car, drive into the flames for princesses, do anything and everything for family and friends . . . it’s telling me no. It’s whispering wait.
Because she might be naked, but she needs to take this all the way. For her own self-esteem, for her soul.
She better hurry up, or my cock just might win.
Sidney steps closer to me and, with a shaking hand, she plucks the glass from my hand and sets it down farther along the counter. Past me. So, she has to bend forward, brush her body against mine.
I hiss in a breath, and though I can’t see her face, I know there’s a shaky smile in there somewhere.
She shifts closer to me and looks up, and there, as our gazes clash, those summer forest hazel eyes hold that tiny smile. My princess puts her hand on the edge of my jeans and pushes her hand up under my T-shirt, laying it flat against me.
I feel that touch everywhere, the base of my spine, my stomach, balls, cock, a heat that beats in my veins, making things tighten, spark.
Then she brings up her other hand, and without breaking contact, she unbuttons my jeans and pulls out my cock.
Sidney starts to her knees, but I haul her up in my arms as she releases me. I kiss her hard and deep, tongue thrusting against hers as she gives back, a desperate, carnal edged kiss that tastes a little of whiskey or bourbon, and that sweetness of her, and she moans.
I’ve amended my plan. She’s not going to blow me, as much as I want her to. I want her utterly sober for when she fucks me with her mouth. When I take her so fucking deep, I hit the back of her throat. When I come in her mouth, and she swallows.
I’m just going to fuck her. She made the move. She’s trying to get back down to take me in her mouth.
“I’ll come so fuckin’ hard down your throat,” I say. It’s meant to be crude. It’s the truth. It’s a warning.
I think I turn her on because she moans again. “Mack, I stripped for you. What more do you want?”
“Your legs open and your cunt taking my cock deep, Princess. I want that.” I grab her by the waist and spread those thighs.
She’s wet, her moisture glistens on her upper thighs, on the lips of her pussy. She’s fucking glorious. The hottest, prettiest, tightest cunt I’ve ever seen or experienced.
Sidney reaches for me, but I thrust two fingers into her, pushing her back on the counter so she’s laid out before me.
