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It’s all I can do to not jerk my zipper down and mount her. Fuck her into the bed so hard she regrets playing this dirty game of hers with me.
I do press my palm to my hard ridge for a little relief as the outline of her fingers moves faster in her panties. It makes me ache worse. I’m hurting so bad I’m not sure if I’ll ever come hard enough to ease the pain.
She’s killing me. Those hidden fingers, her perfect tits held up by black lace, that open mouth that’s so fucking loud. I want to punish her for all of it, for being so goddamn sexy when she’s the last person I should be longing for.
Holly throws her head back just when I think I can’t stand another second. Her body trembles all over as she chokes out one gasp, then another. A few more twitches and it’s all over. She goes still, panting heavily as she comes back down.
Finally, I force my feet to leave because I know that if she asked me to fuck her, get on my knees and worship her, or anything else, I would do it. And there would be no way I could ever look at myself again in the mirror.
It’s already hard enough to do that as it is.
CHAPTERFIVE
Holly
Waking up to the smell of coffee and bacon frying is new.
As soon as I open my eyes and see the books and furniture that aren’t mine, I remember that I slept in Lyla’s room last night.
Last night, after I went on a date, got robbed, rode home with her father, and then…put on a show for him.
“Oh god,” I groan as I pull the sheets up over my face, wishing I could smother myself.
What was I thinking?
It was stupid to take off my clothes in front of him, to touch myself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
If Lyla found out, she would hate me, and she’s the only real friend I have.
“Holly?” a woman’s voice calls from the other side of my closed door. I don’t remember closing it, so it must have been Isaac. Or his mother.
Ew, yuck. I completely forgot that Lyla’s grandmother lives with them. And I wasn’t exactly quiet last night.
“Holly, are you awake?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I call back.
“Breakfast is ready if you’re hungry.”
Would she have made me breakfast if she knew what I did last night? I doubt it.
“Thank you, I’ll be right out,” I say before wincing. What if Isaac is out there sitting at the dining table? How can I ever face him again?
My mortification only stalls when I remember his hungry eyes watching every move I made, every inch of my body I revealed so brazenly.
Maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal for him. He’s the president of a motorcycle club. Women probably throw themselves at him all the time.
I bet he doesn’t walk away from them, though.
I lie in bed, straining my ears to hear Isaac’s grumbling voice, but there’s no sound other than maybe the washing machine spinning in the room next to Lyla’s.
The best thing to do is get dressed, eat a bite to be polite, and then get the hell out of here before I make a bigger fool of myself.
Except…I don’t have a car. Or a ride. Mrs. Perry might be willing to take me home. If only she had come to get me instead last night, then maybe I wouldn’t be dripping mortification out of every pore.
It’s not that I’m even ashamed of Isaac seeing me that way. It’s that he refused to touch me. He rejected me, and that hurts most.
Again, it’s my mistake for thinking anything would happen between us.
