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“No worries. You promised me some cold beer, your stellar company and pizza if I’m not mistaken.”
“Fuck!” I pushed my hand into my hair and only caught myself when John chuckled. “I just smeared mystery-color paint in my hair didn’t I?”
He grinned. It was a lupine grin that made me think of arousal tinted with danger, and my pussy went wet. It was swift and consuming—that flash of want. And it startled me.
“Don’t worry, Starr, it works for you.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and patted my pockets for my phone. No phone.
“Careful, don’t stick that out unless you intend to use it,” he teased.
There it was again. A lightning bolt of arousal searing me from my bones outward. I was losing my mind, or maybe I was coming to my senses. I found the house phone and dialed Dante’s Pizza.
“I have an order for pick up...” I recited my usual order for when John came over. Two extra-large cheese pizzas, two fries, one salad—just for show.
I felt him take my wrist and squeeze, but the guy was talking. Giving me a total and a pick-up time. I heard the tape and paid it no mind. Do you know how much painter’s tape I’d used in the last few days? It was only when blue tape kissed the thin skin at my wrists, that I turned to look. By then I was saying good-bye. John caught my other wrist before I could react and was swiftly taping my wrists together in front of my body. My instantly trembling body.
“What—?”
He plucked the phone from the crook of my neck and shoulder and put it down. “I just want to plead my case while we wait,” he said. He kissed me and it was the boldest kiss he’d ever delivered. Warm lips and rough tongue and it shot right from my mouth to my cunt as I tried to process, smiling laughing John with intense and sexy John.
My John...
The thought was so pure and so instant I rejected it immediately. I would not be wooed into changing my stance. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t able. I wasn’t suitable to love or be loved. Not now. Maybe not ever.
And yet, when he unbuttoned my painting shirt—an old button-down that was speckled with a rainbow of paint colors—my nipples pebbled eagerly, begging to be touched. My stomach rolled with anxiety mixed with a brilliant excitement. We had fucked before, a lot, but something about this—about now—had me practically vibrating with urgency.
Whatever he was doing, whatever he wanted to do, the answer was yes. And it all stemmed from the look on his face. Cute and adorable had turned to sexy and wolfish. Dark-brown eyes seemed darker, smiling face now intent, relaxed brow now creased by focus. My hands were taped in front of me so he simply peeled back the halves of my shirt. When he gazed at me, I felt scrutinized and on display and my cunt flexed wetly at the emotion it caused. Joy.
“Your case?” I swallowed hard and tried to wrangle my mind into paying attention to his words and not the hypnotic way he was dragging the rough roll of tape down the very center of me. From my collarbone, past my navel, to the very top of my hip bone that was barely peeking from beneath my ratty old gym shorts.
“I think you have this...idea of me. And that man, the one in your head, is not worth you taking that risk you don’t want to take.”
“I’m not—”
“Ready for love, yeah, yeah,” he said. “You know, right about now I could totally start singing some bad-ass eighties rock.”
His half grin struck me in the solar plexus and a snort of unexpected laughter burst out of me. “Please don’t.”
“Okay.” He leaned in and almost kissed me. But he didn’t. He brought his lips so close to mine I could feel a tingle of imagined energy, but there was no kiss. At the last moment, he diverted from my mouth and latched on to my nipple. The heat from his tongue lit me up from the inside. A single suck had my insides pounding steadily with my runaway pulse.
He brought me down to a feral place in that one moment. I wanted him to fuck me. In fact, I’d passed wanted minutes before and had swiftly veered into needed. I needed John to fuck me.
“Now you may wonder why I have taped you up, pretty Starr. And the reason is, I think you need to see me for who I am. All of it.”
Why did that almost scare me? Why was there a flicker of unease in me? From the heavy hint of predatory glee in his voice? My heart wanted to be a tiny bit scared, but my body leapt to attention.
“Like what?”
“Like I am the nice guy who does nice things.” As he spoke, he pushed my shorts down. I was as bare under them as I’d been under my buttondown. He grunted appreciatively when he saw me and that sound set off a rush of fluid between my thighs. That sound that said he liked what he saw made my craving for him worse. Much worse.
I shifted restlessly in place, rubbing my thighs together and finding no relief in the action.
“You are a nice guy,” I agreed.
“But I think bad things sometimes,” he said, slipping a finger between my nether lips. And here we were again, like with the kiss that wasn’t a kiss. He was touching me but not. He’d slid that finger between my lips and had it rested over my clitoris. But he didn’t press and he didn’t rub. He just left it there, not moving, so that I had to fight the insane urge to move my body against his finger.
I refused.
