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And not in the sexy way I want him too, wherein he jams his fat cock so far down my throat my eyes water and I nearly pass out from lack of oxygen.
Throwing on some music to distract me, I take a few purifying yoga-style breaths and let my hips sway to the beat. Dancing by myself is a fine substitution for getting the info I desperately seek. Ask anyone. Four out of five dentists recommend it.
And one out of one Mias recommend chugging wine.
Next thing I know, I’m tossing back a crisp, cool glass of Moscato, gulping it like I’m afraid it’ll evaporate if I slow my pace.
I let the warmth spread through my body as it journeys down my throat to my belly and wait for the relaxation to kick in, destroying the compulsion to be a creeping creeper.
Earn him. Prove it.
Being a good girl is harder than a bjology. I’d much rather do that, but it won’t ease my conscience.
A dark thought hits me as I refill my glass. What if something happened to his mother?
My feet propel me to my laptop before I register the movement.
But I stop myself before lifting the lid.
Nice try, pimp. Almost got me.
An alert sounds on my phone, and my heart accelerates, springing relief and titillation throughout my body.
Someone is approaching my house.
I pause the music and swipe the alert notification to see who it is.
My stomach twists, butterflies taking flight at the sight of him. Handsome as ever. Hair slightly disheveled, shirt pulled tight across his pecs, and that layer cake ass testing the stretch capacity of the back of his jeans. I switch the view to the opposite camera and am rewarded with a better look.
Good lord, the ass on that man.It’s equally mouthwatering as the small raspberry lemon cake in my fridge.
I switch the music to the playlist I made for him and hit play.
On my way to greet him, I check my reflection in the entryway mirror and give my long red hair a tousle, fluffing it at the root. A quick shimmy of my shoulders and pinch of my cheeks, and I’m ready.
He rings the doorbell before I get there, and I force myself to wait for three excruciatingly long seconds in the foyer before answering. Don’t want to seem too eager despite everything inside me telling me to jump into his arms, wrap my legs around his waist, and beg him to fuck me raw.
Three, two, one, go.
Giving the girls a hoist, I open the door, and a genuine smile overtakes my face. Mouth parted, his gaze immediately lowers, sweeping down my body from head to toe and back again. It leaves a pleasant shiver running over my skin.
Moving to the side, I motion for him to enter. “Thanks for coming.”
As he passes, his only reply is a low-pitched grumble. A frown threatens to tug my mouth downward while I lock up behind him.
His scent wraps around me, and I rest my head on the door to steady myself before I can turn around and face him.
Never have I been this attracted to a man. Or a woman. Not even that one time in college.
Oh, stop. Don’t act like you’ve never considered it.
Shaking off my thoughts, I remember my manners. “Do you want something to drink?”
He glances around the room, his eyes moving to the kitchen, but he doesn’t answer. Just keeps his mouth sealed tightly and holds his balled-up hands by his sides.
My spirits crash and burn as realization dawns. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing me the way I was him.
Refusing to let his rejection sting too long, I scamper to the kitchen while rattling off a drink menu. “I’m drinking wine. I’ll pour you a glass. Red or sweet white? I have beer too.”
