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She continues talking, but I think about all the things she could do, and I wouldn’t mind making it possible for her to see this view daily. My eyes drop to her rounded hips in her jeans, and I imagine myself taking them in my hands as I drive into her from the front or back. When I think of the back, I recall how rounded her ass looked in the jeans when she walked out of the front door ahead of me earlier.
Lord, no ass should be that fat, tight, and thick! She’s got the perfect ass, and I want to take a bite out of it as though it were a crime.
What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t think so casually about women this way. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had sex in a while. Maybe Lauren’s right, and I should do casual sex occasionally.
“Did you hear me?” she asks.
“Um, no. I didn’t.”
“I asked do you do this often? Ride in helicopters, I mean?”
“Not often, but I’ve had the pleasure of doing it more than a handful of times.”
She nods and turns away from me with a deep pink tint to her cheeks that has me wondering if she can read my fucking thoughts. I don’t bother telling her I fly in a private plane more often than a helicopter.
While the rest of the crew decided to lounge around the house today and mostly spend time in their rooms fucking, I decided that she and I needed to get out of the house. With all those pheromones and sexual intensity raging, I could not promise to keep my hands to myself.
It was best if we escaped the sounds that drifted from the bedrooms as we passed or the secret looks my friends shared just before they would slip out of the room in pairs.
Then there was fucking Shepherd, who held nothing back. He didn’t mind kissing, fondling, or slipping his hands down the girls’ pants right there in front of the rest of us. To his credit, the girls didn’t seem to mind either. But where his actions put everyone else in the mood, and they would slip away, it only left me sexually frustrated.
I’m tired of beating my meat with my fucking hand!
“So, what are we going to do when we finish with the tour?” Nia asks, turning back to glance at me. I’d rather call her that than Yaya.
“Well, since we’ve seen the entire town and beyond and we’ve been skiing every day, I thought we could return to the chalet and watch a movie.”
“That sounds good.”
“And if you don’t want the seafood pasta the chef whipped us up, I can cook something quick or order pizza again.”
Like a little kid, her face lights up. “Pizza. That would be perfect.”
Nodding, I reply, “Pizza it is, then.”
“And I get to choose the movie?”
“Sure. As long as it isn’t a chick flick.”
Rolling her eyes, her mouth opens widely in surprise. “Why do guys always assume a woman is into chick flicks? What makes you think I wouldn’t like a good action movie too?”
Holding my hands out, I say, “It’s been my experience that women always love a good chick flick because they’re hopeless romantics at heart, or they think they’re going to change the guy’s mind about his intentions toward her.”
“Well, if I were to choose a chick flick, it wouldn’t be because of either of those reasons.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Because one...I’m not a hopeless romantic. Two, is there nothing to change your mind about concerning me?”
I stare at her in surprise momentarily and wonder how she doesn’t see it. I want to ask her that too. How can she not feel that whenever she hops up to leave the room, my eyes instantly drop to her ass? I think about bending her over a table and spanking that pretty little, tight ass just before I shove my erection deep inside her.
How can she not see that I want to choke her on my dick every time I watch her lips move? How can she not see that when she laughs if my eyes aren’t on her lips, then they’re on her breasts, watching them move up and down?
I’m a gentleman by nature, but I swear to God, this girl makes me want to do all types of dirty things to her. All the things I enjoy doing in the intimacy of a bedroom with a party of two.
“No, there isn’t,” I say instead.
“See, so I can watch a chick flick, and we should be just fine, right?”
