Still, Jacoby didn’t move. He didn’t pull me into him, didn’t reach out to touch me. He didn’t even lean toward me. Instead, he remained motionless while I struggled with an internal war between humping his leg and sitting back in my seat. There didn’t seem to be anything in between the two. It was either all or nothing. This was likely why I’d gone from carefully stroking the top of his leg to heavily groping his inner thigh, mere inches from the hardness that strained against his pants. And his earlobe that had been lightly captured between my lips was now pinched between my teeth.
Many women have used the phrase, I’ve never done anything like this. And I’d say roughly two percent were telling the truth—that’s a generous assumption. But when I say I’d never done anything like this, I wasn’t lying.
Never in my life had I ever physically come onto a man in that manner. Flirted, sure. Teasingly touched a man’s forearm, of course. Exaggerated the sway of my hips while walking in front of a hot guy…maybe once or twice. But practically molest him in a way that could get someone arrested? Never. Not even in the wild fantasy I’d had about the hot ginger who shopped in my store, which involved him, Tom Hardy dressed as a cop, and the hood of my car.
A tiny voice in my head told me that I should calm down, maybe ease up a bit, at least with his earlobe. But that voice was quickly drowned out by the intermittent grunts that rumbled Jacoby’s chest with his every labored exhale. It was enough to prove that he was in just as much of a war with himself over his resolve.
My goal was to make him lose, and based on the random sounds of a player dying that came from the game, one could ascertain that I had done so. He certainly wasn’t playing anymore, which meant his character was likely being killed over and over again. Yet I couldn’t stop what I was doing.
What had started as a distraction had quickly become something so much more.
“Tasha,” he practically whispered, his voice too hoarse to make actual sound. It proved his desperation, which sounded like it matched my own. Although, that was obvious by the erection that was now beneath my palm.
Just hearing Jacoby say my name, not my sister’s, skyrocketed the steam factor. Hearing him say it with his voice laden with lust and want and need? I was a goner—no chance in Hades of turning back now. With my lips on his neck, I shifted our positions until I was on his lap, straddling his thighs.
Things moved at warp-speed after that. His hands were on my hips, his fingertips digging into the meaty part of my bottom as he pulled me into him. My fingers were laced behind his head, threaded through his short hair. And our tongues were fighting for control, warring between which mouth to occupy. All the while, our bodies moved as though we were having intercourse through our clothes.
Between my lack of sexual attention of any kind, the roughness of his grip on me, and the friction between my legs every time I rolled my hips into him, I was seconds away from an orgasm. It didn’t start slow. No, it came on hot and fast, the need to get off driving me to move wilder, breath heavier, and pull his hair harder. But just as the start of the wave began to overtake me, the startling sound of the front door closing washed it away.
Jacoby and I both stopped suddenly and stared wide-eyed at one another, as if that would somehow explain who’d just walked into the house. My heart was about to beat out of my chest, which was likely a combination of our activities and the unexpected arrival of whoever had just walked in.
“Tasha!” Ty’s voice came from the front of the house, though the resounding footsteps echoing through the hall informed me that he wasn’t stationary. He was heading toward the living room. Which meant he was seconds away from finding me dry humping the neighbor, who was supposed to be under the impression that I was my sister, who was very much engaged to someone else.
I quickly pushed off his lap and stepped away, doing my best to steady myself on such weak legs while giving Jacoby enough room to get off the couch. Neither