Page 83 of Personal Foul
Pulling away, she laughs, and I give her a lopsided grin. “Hey, get back here. You said I could kiss you all I want once homework is over.”
She lets out a bark of laughter. “That’s true. I did say that.”
“Are you going back on your promise?”
Solemnly—or as solemnly as possible with a smile trying to break free—she shakes her head. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” With my hand on the back of her head, I pull her in for another kiss.
She doesn’t try to pull away from this one too early, instead wrapping her arms around my shoulders and getting as close to me as possible. My hands roam her back and ass, exploring the now familiar terrain of her curves. I’ve mapped every inch of her body with my fingers and lips and tongue by now, but I haven’t quite memorized them.
Yet.
But there’s another reason I’ve been dying to get through with all the preliminaries tonight. My sister’s engagement party is coming up next week, and I’ve decided I want to bring Charity as my plus one.
I just don’t know if Charity will agree to go.
I know in the past, she hasn’t gotten along with the social circles I’m part of back home. As we’ve spent more time together, she’s shared more of what she went through in high school, so I know she won’t be eager to head back into the lion’s den, so to speak.
There’s also the reality that she’s hidden the fact that her family has money from all of her friends in college. From things she’s said, and now having met her sister and seeing their home, I know that’s the kind of life that Charity wants for herself. Normal. Middle class. Enough money to live comfortably but not extravagantly.
To be honest, I can see the appeal. My trust fund is enough that I could have that life. And I wouldn’t even have to work. I could buy a modest home and spend my time puttering around the yard like an old man starting next year. Hell, I don’t even need a degree for that. I could start right now.
Okay, that might not be exactly what Charity has in mind. I’m sure she wants to get a job in her field and have a full life, even if it’s not filled with world travel and charity galas. I could do without the charity galas and political fundraisers too, but they’re part of the cost of doing business for my family. Those political fundraisers are what my dad needs to secure his political ambitions, and what my family’s law firm needs to secure their lucrative contracts.
It’s the world I grew up in. Granted, I didn’t start attending the fundraisers and galas until I was a teenager, but they’ve been part of the landscape of our family’s life forever. I’ve always grown up expecting the same thing out of my life.
While my dad definitely wants me to follow in his footsteps and carry on our family’s political capital, I am not one hundred percent sold on that life plan. However, before that’s even possible, I’ll be taking my place in the family firm. Before I can even consider running for state office, I’ll need to pay my dues as an attorney first. And if my dad really has his way, I might skip over the local politics in favor of the national stage for my first run. Because by the time I’m done with law school and have a few years practicing under my belt, there’s a good chance Dad could be governor or senator or who even knows?
But I’m getting way ahead of myself. None of that really matters right now. What matters is convincing Charity to attend Victoria’s engagement party.
I’ve succeeded in convincing her thatI’mnot awful. Perhaps I can convince her that my family functions will be something she can tolerate. And anyway, it’s just an engagement party. Sure, it’ll be mostly filled with my parents’ friends and connections, but if anything, that should make it even easier on Charity. And yes, a few of Victoria’s friends will be there too, of course. And I’m pretty sure she’ll have Mindy, her best friend from high school, as her maid of honor. But Charity shouldn’t have had any run-ins with Victoria’s high school friends.
Maybe if I sell it as her doing a favor for me?
First, though, there are more pressing matters to attend to. Like the way she’s pressing and grinding on my hard dick.
I grip her hips and hold her in place so I can push up against her. Grabbing her ass, I scoot forward to the edge of the couch and stand. She reflexively clamps her arms and legs around me, hanging on as I carry her to my bedroom.
“Ohh, this is different,” she murmurs against my lips.
When we reach my bed, I release my grip on her upper thighs, sliding my hands up to her back so she can set her feet on the floor. Once she is steady on her feet, I immediately reach for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and off.
She’s already on the same page, reaching behind her to undo the clasp of her bra, pulling her arms free and dropping it on the floor.
Bending my head, I kiss the top of her breast, and then take the nipple between my lips, laving it with my tongue until she makes a sound of satisfaction.
But my time with her nipple is cut short by her fingers hiking up my shirt until I have to straighten and pull it the rest of the way off. A small smile curls her lips as she steps into me, running her hands over my torso, then up and around my neck, pressing up on her toes for more kisses.
I run my hands up and down the bare expanse of her back, reveling in the softness of her skin. Her fingers seem to flit over my skin, dancing and tickling their way around my torso, until they reach the waistband of my pants and start pushing.
“Mmm, I like it when you’re eager,” I murmur, ending the kiss to help get my pants off.
She doesn’t answer, instead stripping off her own pants and climbing on the bed. “Don’t forget to grab a condom,” she says as she crawls to the head of the bed.
I grab a fresh box out of the closet. “On it.”
She’s splayed on the bed, her hair fanned out behind her head, and I pause a moment to take her in, stroking myself leisurely while I look my fill. “I was thinking we could go for a two-point conversion tonight.”
