words. "I must be reading your signals wrong, Jokes. I thought you were in this."
Disappointment shimmers in her bright eyes, and I move without thinking. For once, the voices hissing that she's too good for me are silenced as I drag her into me. Her body is hot and soft under the jean skirt and a tight-fitting tank that caresses every fucking curve. I drop my head down, skimming along her skin as I murmur, "Sweetheart, I've gotten off every day for the past three months, thinking about your tight little body in my bed. Thinking about kissing you until you can't think and watching you fall apart while I'm buried in your perfect pussy."
She makes a tiny gasp against my ear and I lick a line across the curve of her neck and she shudders, her hand coming up to clutch my shoulders, nails digging in.
"You like that, don't you? That I've spent months hung up on you. That I've come all over myself thinking about you."
She whimpers and I swallow my smile as I pull back. Stare in her eyes as she struggles to breathe evenly. "How wet are you right now, Peyton?"
She licks her lips and my dick twitches. I swallow a groan as she comes up on tiptoes and leans in, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispers, "Fucking soaked."
I have her against me before I realize I moved, and her lips are against mine and it's every fucking thing I expected. Wanted. Fantasized about for months. Her hands are on my shoulders, nails digging in, and I fucking love it. I lick along the seam of her lips, my hand coming up and framing her face as the other finds her waist, the smooth band of skin between her skirt and her top. I catch her bottom lip, tugging softly, and her nails bite down as she gasps. I shift her, twisting and pushing her back until she hits the wall. One leg hitches up around mine and I groan as her tongue slides against mine and her skirt rides up between us.
I’m about a minute from dragging her into the back stockroom and fucking her against the cases of beer. She grabs my hand, and brings it between us as her leg drops. I pull back a hairsbreadth, startled, and her blue eyes are fierce and hot on mine as she guides my hand down the front of her skirt.
I’m too aware of the people behind us, and the girl in my arms, the way she’s pushing me past every fucking boundary I know.
Then I feel her, her pussy smooth and soft and so, “Jesus, you’re so fucking wet,” I hiss, my fingers slipping through her folds. Her eyes are closed, and her mouth is slightly open, as she moves against me in the tiniest thrust, her clit rubbing against my palm.
It might be the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
“Rike,” Scott yells, but he seems very far away. The bar is impossibly quiet, and she’s shuddering in my arms. I twist, coming in front of her a little more, pushing her deeper into the shadows of the wall and my fingers sink into her.
I swallow my curse as her nails dig in again, pain flashing through me and slamming into my cock, and her lips open.
I kiss her, taking the scream as she spasms around my hand, wet heat and shuddering silky muscles and the scent of sunshine and sugar all around me as I drink down her screams and kiss her like I’m dying.
Slowly, slowly, she settles, her body relaxing against the wall, and I slip my hand from her skirt, straightening it.
I just finger-fucked Peyton in the middle of a bar. A not empty bar.
What the actual fuck is wrong with me?
She grabs me by the jaw as I step away from her and her eyes are furious and hot, and my mouth goes dry. “Don’t you dare regret this, Jokes. Don’t you fucking dare.” She pushes past me before I can protest, before I can say anything, and I wait a second, trying to get my composure and to get my fucking hard-on to go down before I turn to face the entire room.
I feel someone at my back, and glance at Scotty.
“I got the room cleared,” he says. “Before you guys went at it like fucking rabbits.”
He grins, and I want to punch him for seeing that even as I’m glad he had the presence of mind