16. #PinterestWorthy
SIXTEEN
#PINTERESTWORTHY
Rose
“Did you actually get worse at this?” I hike up my midi-length skirt and curl my legs under me.
Vance’s fingers fumble over my buttons.
“Give me a break. I don’t do this every day like you do.” He shifts up higher on his ass, bracing himself on the front of my sofa.
“Please.” I shimmy over, closing the gap between us on the living room floor.
The hand-knotted silk rug feels soft and silky across my bare legs.
“You do too do this every day.” I lift my shoulders and dip down.
If he wanted, all he’d have to do was look over to get a glimpse down my shirt. “I’ve watched you.”
He looks over, his hands still on the remote control. “You’ve watched me?” The Fortnite battle he’s been playing and losing for the past twenty minutes rages on.
“Yep.” I trail my finger up his thigh.
He tries his best not to be affected.
It’s cute how he tries.
“First, that’s creepy.” Vance jerks his thigh away, clearing his throat. “And second, what are you talking about?”
Sighing, I lean back against the front of the couch, knowing even without my distracting efforts his game will be over soon. “You really are a newb.”
Vance frowns at the screen, his fingers not hitting the buttons in the correct combination he needs to win this current battle.
“Newb. Newbie,” I clarify. “New to it.”
He turns away from the TV to narrow his eyes at me.
He dies.
I purse my lips in amusement and point to the game.
“Damn it.” He tosses the controller between us.
Laughing, I pick it up and maneuver around to the different screens. “Look. I can see who’s playing if I just go into Options and then scan the social list.”
The V between his brows gets deeper. “But how did you find out my username?”
“Please.” I shove him playfully in the shoulder.
“I play with your nephews, remember? And although you made them promise not to tell me that you’ve been practicing, you didn’t say that they couldn’t confirm the name @NASA_starlord on their friends list was you.
” I scoff. “But really, it’s not like I didn’t know it was you.
” I shake my head at him. “NASA starlord? Really?”
He chuckles at himself. “Better than NASA’s Flashlight.”
“I don’t know.” I drop the controller to the side and lift up on my knees, pulling my skirt out of the way so I can straddle him. “I’ve started to think Flashlight is a great nickname for you.” I kiss him but pull back quickly. “Don’t tell Jules I said that.”
He snorts, his eyes on my waist where his hands are circling. “Easily done. She doesn’t need any more ammunition.” He pauses, tilting his head to the side. “But why do you think Flashlight is such a good nickname?”
Poor guy looks a little hurt.
I grind on his lap. He grunts as his dick hardens beneath me.
“Because of that.”
His hips shift under me, moving with me.
“It’s my very own Maglite.” I lean forward and whisper in his ear. “Thick, heavy, and hard.”
“Jesus.” Vance groans, his head falling back on the couch cushion. His hands dig into my hips as I move over him.
This has become a common occurrence this past week.
Not the sex so much as the company.
When I told Vance I had finals to study for this past week, he said he understood. Honestly, I hadn’t believed him. So when he took it upon himself to come over almost every night after he got off work to bring me dinner, I thought that was code for something else.
But whenever I thought he was making a move, he’d just kiss my forehead in greeting. Most of the time after dinner he’d sprawl out on my sofa to read a book while I studied at the kitchen table.
Hashtag men who read are hot.
The two times I tried to make a move on him , he left, saying he didn’t want to distract me.
Hashtag what the fuck?
But today is Saturday. My self-appointed day of rest.
And by rest, I mean sex. Lots of sex.
I lean back, bracing myself on his thighs. “Take your shirt off.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He reaches over his shoulder and grabs a fistful of T-shirt with one hand and pulls it over his head. It’s both oddly sexy and infuriating. Because really, that’s a prime way to stretch out a shirt. And yet he looks so hot doing it.
“Mmmm.” I lick my lips at the six-pack he revealed. “Is it just me or do you look more ripped than usual?”
His eyes shift to the side, and his shoulders jump in a small shrug. “I had to do something while you studied this week.”
I swear there’d be a flush on his cheeks if his complexion wasn’t so dark.
“Is that so?” Honestly, I could argue that.
I could point out that he was here most of the time this week and that the only time he’d have to work out was either early in the morning before work or late at night when he left my place.
Which he must have done, because damn , his six-pack is extra cut right now.
Especially as he tenses, bracing for my smart mouth to embarrass him.
But why would I embarrass him when I can ride him?
Crossing my arms over my stomach, I grab the hem of my shirt and lift, exposing my new bra. One of the ones that has weird straps crisscrossed over the top of your breasts while leaving the nipples exposed. It does fuck-all for support.
But I didn’t wear it for support; I wore it for effect.
“Dear God…” Vance’s eyes glaze over in some sort of sex trance.
Mission accomplished.
Reaching my hands under the soft billows of my skirt, I undo his jeans. When his cock springs free, I moan at the soft skin pulled tight over his erection as I pump him up and down.
“Fuck. Wait. My back pocket.” He grabs my forearms like he’s going to stop me but doesn’t do anything else, enjoying my handiwork.
I shake one hand off to reach under the couch and pull out a condom.
He chuckles when he sees it, which turns into a groan when I twist my wrist at the top of the next pump.
“Did you plan this?” His breath comes in pants.
“Of course.” I don’t need a mirror to know my smile is evil and satisfied.
Back under the pleated tent of my skirt, I roll the condom on and slide my panties to the side.
“Wait.” Vance’s hands reach for me, getting tangled in the material.
I slap them away. “No more waiting.” I lift on my knees, centering him under me. “This is happening now .” I sink down, impaling myself, shuddering with pleasure at the delicious sting and stretch. “Fuck that’s good.”
“So fucking good,” Vance agrees, his eyes and hands on my breasts. He pinches his fingers, tweaking my nipples.
I whimper.
He scoots forward with me on top of him, his dick hitting my cervix and setting off a mini orgasm.
“Holy shit.”
“Wrap your legs around me, baby.”
I do it without thinking, still focusing on the radiating waves of pleasure coming from under my skirt.
Vance’s abs tighten as he crunches closer to me, wrapping his arms up and under mine, his chin near resting on top of my boobs.
“Lotus.” He smiles at me, those eye crinkles of his setting off more fireworks in my downtown. Then what he says registers, and I smile back, remembering my joke about this particular sex position on the day we met at the strip club.
I’d been kidding, having never actually done this before. It’s too slow. Too close. Too intimate a position.
It scares me.
But right now, with Vance, it feels right.
Something changed between us after the night of no stranger danger sex. I can’t put my finger on it, and if I think about it too much, I might have a panic attack.
So I don’t think. I feel.
Digging my fingers into his back, I rock myself on him, his dick hitting my G-spot, his pelvis rubbing my clit.
Hashtag amazing.
He dips his chin down farther, sucking my nipple between his lips.
“Fuck.” I rock faster. But as fast as I rock, it’s a slow build.
I bite my lips, whimpering in frustration. I unhook my leg, looking to get more leverage with my heels on the ground, but Vance stops me.
“No. Like this.” He sucks my other nipple.
“But… I can’t…” I try to bounce but can’t.
“Shhh.” He blows cool air over my hardened nipple. “I got you.” He takes over, rocking me against him, giving me no choice but to cling to him. To let him pleasure me .
The sounds coming out of my mouth are new to me. I plead.
He rocks.
I beg.
He rocks.
I implore him with my nails running down his back.
He rocks.
I can’t see what’s happening under my skirt. I can’t see where we are joined, where my skin rubs and rocks against his. But I can feel it.
The friction. The glorious fucking friction.
He rocks.
Panic builds in my chest. Tears sting my eyes. Something is happening. I don’t… I don’t think I like it.
“Vance.”
He must hear something in my voice because when his eyes lock on mine they soften, and the haze of desire doesn’t lift but shifts, something deeper and sexier moving through them. “I got you.” He rocks.
“I…”
He rocks.
“I’m going to…”
He rocks.
I fall apart, staring into his eyes, crying and begging.
For what I don’t know because the climax is here, and it’s glorious.
It ravages my body, my muscles tightening and spasming, and I have no choice but to let it take me, let it do with me what it will as Vance continues his slow, methodical rocking.
My inner walls clamp down, and Vance’s body jerks then stills, his arms tightening around me like a vise, bringing us as close as possible. Merging our pleasure.
And when our bodies relax, and the pleasure ebbs, Vance and I are left staring at each other in the aftermath. I see wonder in his eyes. Wonder and confusion mixed with a little bit of fear.
All the things I feel myself.
“You’d make an excellent engineer.” Vance leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his still bare chest, staring at the deconstructed KitchenAid mixer hanging from the ceiling.
“I can’t believe you managed to rig up a suspension line.
” He pushes off the wall and walks over the glitter-dusted floor to study my homemade apparatus.