Mr. Bossy Devil - Lindsey Hart Page 0,20
certainly not stopping her. Her hands are roving all over the place, working at my shirt and trying to get underneath to touch my skin. I want to get under her dress too, but I’m not sure that’s appropriate. I still haven’t figured out what exactly we’re doing right now.
I was still pretty sure she hated me.
Maybe hate sex really is a thing. I wouldn’t know. Out of all the things I’ve tried in the past, hate sex is not one of them.
Zoe makes a mewling sound low in her throat that has my cock standing at attention, and when I say standing at attention, I mean it nearly rips through my jeans in eager readiness, screaming ‘pick me, please, for the love of god, pick me.’
She then grabs my shoulders, sinks her nails in so deep that I feel the sting straight through my cotton t-shirt, and uses me to try to pull herself into my lap. I drop my hands to her narrow waist and the lush curve of her hip to give her some help, and I lift her while she tugs and claws at my shoulders. The second she spreads her legs, I feel the heat of her skin because her dress has ridden up really fucking high, and I swear, my dick nearly explodes.
I feel like a dam where the water keeps rising and rising in the middle of a flash flood until suddenly, it just releases, and all the water goes rushing along, flooding everything in its path.
I take a chance on getting punched straight in the face and run a hand over Zoe’s knee. God, she has beautiful, smooth knees. She lets out a groan and writhes forward a little, trying to grind herself over the prominent hard bulge in my pants. The bulge writhes forward a little too, trying to reach Zoe. It wants her sweet spot—the warm, panty-clad heat between her legs.
I start to see stars when I slide my hand up Zoe’s thigh. Her skin is smooth, creamy perfection. Yes, in the past, I have been with some women I thought were pretty smoking hot, but the second I saw Zoe walk into the conference room, I realized none of them could ever even come close to comparing because they’re not Zoe. They’ll never be Zoe. No one was ever Zoe, and no one will ever be Zoe.
I still have no idea what’s happening, and I’m not sure if I’ll get punched in the face or punched in the dick if she changes her mind, but for the moment, I’m rolling with it. I keep my hand moving slowly up her thigh, and Zoe keeps spreading her legs just a little bit further apart, letting me. She throws her head back when I finally reach the point of no return, and I trail my fingers along the edge of her lace panties.
She mewls and moans and thrusts her face against my neck, and I get treated to her warm breath, which might be the most ridiculously sexual thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. All of a sudden, she bites my earlobe, and my dick becomes more like a raging volcano.
I grind my teeth.
I nearly bite off my tongue.
And I can taste blood from biting down on something. I think it was my cheek.
Zoe’s pert breasts press up against my chest, and her sweet, sugary scent floods my nose when I inhale. On my next breath, I smell the deeper, spicier scent of her arousal.
Noooo. I should picture horrible things. Something guaranteed to deflate just about any disobedient dick, except neither my brain nor the bastard cooperates. All I can think of is Zoe. Me deep inside her. My ex-step sister.
It makes me wonder if I’ve turned into the most repulsive bastard on the face of the planet because I still have a raging erection, and not only do I have one, but I feel like it’s close to fucking bursting. I’m just about ready to come in my fucking jeans, which has never ever happened to me before.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Right. I just happen to be caressing my thumb near Zoe’s perfect and smooth lace panties, and I can smell her arousal, spicy and mouth-watering, and she keeps wiggling her hips like she wants my hand there. Right. There. So no, the usual shit doesn’t work, unfortunately.
My dick is still straining, still threatening. Still…
Zoe jerks her hips forward, and my thumb brushes up against her center.