Page 6 of One More Night
Bringing my face next to hers, I kiss her cheek. “Are you going to come for me?”
She nods vigorously and bites her bottom lip. “Yes!”
Her words spur me on. I pick up my pace and thrust my fingers into her faster. The sound of my hand slapping against her wet skin echo around us as the smell of sex fills the car.
“Come for me then, sweet girl,” I whisper, and she does.
Her legs quiver slightly, and her knees turn into a vice grip around my hand. The walls of her pussy pulse around me as she comes down from her high, and her breathing levels out.
When she finally releases me, I remove my hand. “Feel better?”
Her eyes meet mine and a blush creeps up her neck and lands on her cheeks. “Yes.”
“Good.” I bring my hand to my mouth and lick every finger slowly while staring at her. “Now, you can stop worrying.”
She rolls her eyes and laughs. “I’m still worrying. We haven’t even made it to your place.”
“Well, anytime you need a reminder of why you shouldn’t, let me know,” I wink.
She smiles and shakes her head as I move back to my seat and put the car in drive.
When we pull out of the parking lot, she finally speaks again. “Thank you.”
I glance at her from the corner of my eye. “For what?”
“Your patience.”
I let out a chuckle. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I know but I am. This entire thing is new to me, and fucking unbelievable if I’m being honest, but you’ve made it fun.”
“It’s new to me too,” I admit.
She tips her head and turns in her seat. “Seriously?”
I nod. “Yeah. I don’t form relationships—they’re too complicated—but when I saw you…” I trail off reminiscing on the first night I laid eyes on her.
The T-shirt she had on hugged every curve she has perfectly, and the jeans clung to her thick thighs like a second skin. Her brown hair was in a messy bun, and although she may not have been trying, she looked so fucking beautiful. Completely natural and unaware of how hard she made my dick.
And when she finally spoke and asked if I wanted a penis pump—a PENIS PUMP—I knew I was toast.
I’ve grown so accustomed to people dotting their I’s and crossing their t’s with me. There is never any banter or laughs—no fun, just serious bullshit—and I knew Juliet would be the one to change that.
“I knew I wanted you,” I continue. “Honestly, I was expecting a slap in the face or some colorful cuss words thrown my way when I offered you money for sex.”
She shrugs. “I mean, I thought about it. I’m pretty sure I even considered you to be a serial killer.”
I scoff. “A serial killer?”
She nods. “Yep, but only for a split second because I knew if I turned you down, I would regret it. Then I’d be left to go home and fantasize about Mr. Delicious while my shower head got me off.”
I cock a brow. “Tell me more about this shower head.”
She nudges me with a smile. “Not a chance.”
“Fine, then tell me about Mr. Delicious,” I joke.
“You’re Mr. Delicious, Reed. It’s what I called you before I knew your name,” She laughs and covers her face.
“Huh,” I huff. “Kind of has a ring to it.”
She throws her head back and lets out another laugh. “Oh my God. Stop it!”
I try to keep my eyes on the road but seeing her this way—even more carefree than before—makes warmth pool in my stomach while a smile stays plastered to my face.
I like how she makes me feel when she’s around and could get used to it as a more permanent arrangement.
