lot staring at his daughter, doesn’t mean I’m breaking the law. The cops come, shake their heads at me and I shrug, give her father a wave if he’s around, rev my bike and leave.
But I always come back.
Like today.
I mount my bike, my eyes trained on her smile as she nods and hands out the little church fliers to everyone going inside the open double doors. Today she’s wearing a light green, sort of ruffly floral deal and white sandals.
I love her fucking toes. She paints each one a different color. The days I am able to get close to her and she’s not wearing sandals or something that lets me see her toes, I’m disappointed. The rest of her is just as good, perfect even, but her toes. Damn, I never knew I was a foot guy until I met Kristina.
I roar into the parking lot and park my bike in my usual obnoxious spot, right near the front door, kick down the stand and pivot, pulling my leg over the back before shoving my hand through my hair and heading directly her way.
She sees me, I know she does. I ride my bike for a reason. I want her to know I’m coming.
It’s almost time for their service to start and there’s no one else behind me. I see her straighten up, glancing around, but I’m the only one here so she has to look at me.
“You here for the service?” She half snaps but I see the blush rise on her cheeks.
“Nope. Just finished my own service. I’m all set on God for today.”
She rolls her eyes on a shake of her head. “Good to know. What do you want? Why do you insist on bothering me?”
“Is that what I’m doing? Bothering you?”
She gives me an incredulous stare and tightens her perfectly plump, cherry-red lips together. “Yes. You are bothering me. So, get lost.”
I twist my lips, shaking my head. “You say get lost, but your eyes say stay right here.”
“You’re obnoxious. You have no idea what my eyes say.”
“Delusions run deep.” I reach my hand toward where she’s holding the fliers. “You gonna offer me one or not?”
She pauses, narrowing her eyes, and the glare she gives me only makes me want her more.
“Fine.” She bites out, shoving the white folded paper my way. “Now will you leave?”
I don’t answer. Instead I meet her outstretched hand, blatantly running my fingers down the top of her wrist, pinching the paper with her hand under mine.
Her cheeks ripen to stop-sign red, but she’s frozen and I love the way she gets so flustered. She does this little tug, but it’s halfhearted at best, and I move my thumb in slow, sensual circles on the underside of her wrist. I swear I can feel her pulse start to race.
She could get away if she wanted, I’m not holding her tight. At least not with my hand. But I am in other ways, and that’s why she’s staying put, because it’s what I want.
“Stop that.” She finally hisses, her eyes darting behind her, and I know she’s looking for her father.
“Stop what?” I tease, moving my thumb in bigger circles now. “This?” I look down, then back at her face, drawing a breath through my clenched teeth.
My dick is hardened steel and I don’t even care if she sees how hard she makes me. The touch of her skin makes me crazy, and I think of my thumb doing this to her clit, listening to her voice crack and beg me to stop as I tease every nerve ending, torturously slow.
Then make her beg me for more.
My mouth is watering looking at her, thinking such thoughts. Her toes are showing and my fucking dick is leaking cum. They are painted alternating daisy yellow and white and I want to feel them stroking off my crazed cock.
But what I really want is to kiss her. To me, kissing is a big fucking deal.
I’ve not kissed a woman in probably twenty years. I just don’t kiss on the mouth, it’s a thing for me. I’ve fucked my share, it’s lost a bit of it’s luster, even before Kristina. But, since I set eyes on her? There is no other pussy in the world. My dick would shrivel up and fall off if I even tried to hook up with anyone else now.
She’s ruined me.
“Stop that.” A deep voice draws my attention and Kristina jerks her hand away. Her father is dressed