Chapter 26 Gorgeous - VHS（X）（Rerecorded） #3
“Been needin’ you close bad. You got no fuckin’ idea.” His nose grazes my cheek, breath hits my ear. “Don’t gotta mean somethin' to you, call it whatever you want—just a fuckin' orgasm. Just let me hold you, let me feel close to you for five minutes. That’s it. Please.”
My nose nudges his jaw. “You beggin’?”
“Yeah, I’m beggin’. Dyin’. On my knees in my fuckin’ chest for you.”
I swallow,
nodding as his other hand slips under,
fingers dragging heat up the wet center of my panties.
He holds my eyes in the palms of his—
heavy, half-lidded,
pupils vibrating with restraint.
Then his fingers slip under the seam,
and he fists the cotton,
his knuckles sliding soft over the bare seam of me.
I suck in a breath,
my eyes fluttering, threatening to close.
But I keep them open. On his.
He doesn’t rush,
sliding my panties far off to the side,
then loops it once around his wrist.
He holds me still, holds me bare.
His other hand slides down between my thighs. Then his fingertips drag gently over my soft pussy lips.
He swallows,
then parts me with two fingers,
thumb and finger spreading me open.
And his middle licks through my slit,
one long upstroke,
one deep, heavy pull,
dragging a filthy line straight to my clit,
leaving me split open.
His jaw flexes. My breath dies.
Our bodies react at the same time—
his eyes shutting, his head falling forward,
my eyes rolling, my head dropping back.
And the world falls away.
His mouth hovers near my ear,
then slips down just below it.
He kisses me there softly,
an exhale leaving hot through his nose.
A gasp leaves me.
Then his hot lips slide lower.
Kisses me again.
Open mouth.
Tongue warm.
Bottom lip lazy,
sucking the skin slow.
Each kiss sinks
and sinks,
burning deeper.
“Andrew.” It’s hardly a whisper,
more a breath.
“Hm?” A sound,
lips wrapping around my neck.
My fingers slide up his scalp,
pulling him closer.
“You don’t gotta… be extra.
“I just need—what’re you doin’?”
He sucks me gently, teeth scraping the skin.
“Just breathin’ you, angel.”
I fold into the feel of it,
curling my leg tighter around his hip.
He grins into my throat.
Keeps tasting.
Keeps kissing.
Keeps breathing.
Lips warm.
Breath hot.
Tongue tracing the edge of my pulse.
He presses just shy into my opening,
and wet heat rushes out, flooding his fingers.
He groans quiet,
dragging the soak up,
spreading it through my slit,
then grinds it against my clit.
I’m so close to falling apart.
It’s in the way he surrounds me.
The way he wraps me up in him.
I grip his hair—
“Talk to me,” I breathe out. “Anything.”
He huffs a wrecked laugh.
“You need my voice in your ear?”
He exhales hard through his nose,
trying to keep it together.
“Shit, Sonny—‘m this close to losin’ it…
“But yeah. I got you.”
His grip on my thigh tightens,
and he pulls me into him—hips catching.
Then that hand wanders higher
until his fingertips graze my opening.
He drags over it slow,
circling heavy, pressing, owning—his.
In his other hand,
the attention on my clit never stalls,
a finger wrapped around the nerve,
curling up like he's pulling me in.
Then his head falls to the side of my head,
body sinking into mine,
only melting when we’re together.
Then his voice slips in—
singing the song playing downstairs,
soft enough to live only in my ear.
A voice insanely intimate,
with breath-tinged edges.
A voice with a late-night rasp,
enough to make it hurt.
And then—
at the very end of each note—
it cracks.
And it ruins me.
His voice, his fingers, the heat of him.
It threatens to spill over, and—
my fingers claw at his back,
pulling him into me,
pressing my face into his neck.
His hand slides up and down my thigh,
pinning me close.
My head falls back against the brick again,
my chest heaving, my thighs trembling.
Andrew drops his head to mine,
picks up the speed,
watching my face as the orgasm rips out of me.
I come with my mouth open and no sound.
Like it was waiting behind a locked door,
and he just kicked it down.
And I hate how good he feels. How easy he makes it. How I didn’t have to beg, didn’t have to ask. How he just slid his hand between my thighs, and my body fucking wept for him.
He slows as our bodies come down,
chests heaving as one.
Then two fingers sink down the center of me.
Unhurried, stopping at my entrance.
His stare grips mine,
catching the way my breath scatters across my lips.
He draws heavy circles,
pressing two fingers against the pulse of my orgasm.
Then he drags them back up,
collecting everything he pulled out of me—
soaking his fingers.
Then they curl over my clit one last time,
making his touch echo in my bones.
It was supposed to be five minutes—
touch me, reset me, go.
That’s what these orgasms are for—
to get off, drift up, detach.
But the second his fingers leave me,
I’m not fixed.
I’m suddenly too fucking soft for him,
too needy and... his.
‘Cause he saw the spiral before I did,
reached in,
and gave it a heartbeat and feelings.
when I was supposed to be numb and floating.
He brings his soaked fingers to his mouth—
And I stop him, grabbing his wrist.
“No,” I say, pulling his hand toward me.
“You don’t get to keep that.”
Then I dip his fingers into my mouth before he gets the chance.
He watches,
jaw tight as I suck them slow and dirty.
Until my sweet taste’s been erased from his skin.
“Don’t get this confused, Drew.
“I let you get me off this time, but this?"
I drag his fingers across my bottom lip.
“This isn’t yours.” My eyes drift between his. “I’m not yours.”
His breath hitches, crushed as he fixes my panties. “Bold as hell, comin’ from the girl draggin' me in and suckin' her own climax off my fingers."
He nods, eyes flicking back to my mouth.
“Taste like denial, Sonny? Or the truth?"
My brow lifts,
a small laugh leaving me this time.
“Bold as hell, comin’ from the guy who wanted to keep me away from Vice tonight.” Then I smirk. “So here’s an idea—let’s pretend you did.”
He stands taller, eyes worried, confused.
“What’re you talkin’ about?”
“No touching,” I say.
“No interfering. Just friends.”
Yes, this is exactly what I need.
A good old-fashioned no-touching pact.
His gaze spills across my face.
“You fuckin’ serious right now?”
I shrug. “You said you didn’t wanna lose me over bullshit, right?” I lift my chin. “Didn’t want me gettin’ hurt by some girls? Cool. We won’t give anyone a reason. We’ll stay outta each other’s way.”
He’s shaking his head.
“Nah. Nah—fuck that. Not happenin’.”
He stares, calling my bluff.
I don’t blink.
He does.
“Allison, no—
“you got no clue what goes on down there.”
His hand scrapes through his hair.
“Ain't called House of Virtue for a reason, angel. Nah. It’s sweat and sex and people fuckin’ in booths, guys fuckin’ grabbin’ asses, girls gettin’ fingered on the floor like it’s a free-for-all.”
Jaw tight, his eyes trace my body.
“Guys're gonna see you and lose their fuckin’ minds—”
I roll my eyes,
and his palm comes out, cutting the air.
“—Nah, don’t give me that look. I mean it. You act all humble and shit, like you don’t know, but you?” He swears under his breath. “Most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen in my life.”
I lock up.
He's not the type to toss out pretty words.
Not about faces. Or bodies.
His compliments aim higher.
Who I am. What I do.
And this? Only the second time he's slipped.
It hits my chest all over again.
He exhales hard, voice breaking—
“And tonight you’re hot as fuck in that dress.
I’m tellin’ you right now, one guy even breathes too close?
I’ll lose my shit.” His hand flies out toward me, just getting started.
“And you? You hear some shit about me? See some girl touch me? You’re gone.
I lose you. I already know it.” He swallows, worry pooling in his eyes.
“This place’ll eat us alive, Sonny. Fuck it all up before it even starts. ”
I glance down at my nails,
lean against a table,
laughing under my breath.
“Jealousy? Insecurity? Yeah—not my thing.”
His tongue runs slow across the inside of his cheek,
eyes on mine, hands hanging off his hipbones.
“You sayin’ you can just sit back and watch girls tryna get close and it won’t unnerve the fuck outta you? Rubbin’ up against my dick as they squeeze by, actin’ like shit don’t faze you.” He grins, brow high. “I’m callin’ bullshit.”
I shrug.
“You wanna let girls get close? Go ahead.”
Both of his brows are raised now.
As if I just snatched the win before the war even started.
He grins harsh, criminal, eyes on fire.
“Yeah, aight.
“You sayin' you don't want me that bad, huh?”
He drags his tongue across his bottom lip,
breath caught in his teeth,
still smirking.
“Then you got it.
“No touching.
“No interfering.
“Just friends until midnight.
“An hour and a half, if it even lasts that long.”
“Cool,” I say, sitting up from the table.
“Sit back down, Sonny, I ain’t finished.”
I freeze. Brow cocked like—excuse me?
My stunned smirk follows.
And I sit.
Back.
Down.
Because what the fuck was that—
and why am I turned on by it?
He holds my stare,
taps two fingers against his hip.
Then lifts his chin. “If I do it? If I survive this night without layin’ a hand on you and tellin’ every guy in here to back the fuck off? You’re spendin’ Thanksgiving at my house. All mine. All day.”
“This sounds a lot like a bet, Andrew.”
“Only if you’re playin’, Allison.”
And he wants Thanksgiving.
Fucking Thanksgiving.
Not a date. Not sex.
Not even a blowjob.
He’s betting for turkey.
And mashed potatoes.
With me.
Fuck.
“Okay…”
Yeah.
Not a chance I’m letting him win.
“Then if I win?” I smile.
“You take a week off work. From all of it.”
He goes still.
Yeah, I could’ve bet him anything, too.
Decided to go with the one thing he desperately needs but would never do. Not unless someone makes it a fucking challenge.
“Seven whole days,” I say.
“No hotel. No bar. No backup gigs.”
He starts to speak—pauses.
Then a ghost of a smile,
worn out and lopsided.
“Seven days? The fuck you think I’m gonna do with myself?”
I mutter, shrugging—“Eat a fuckin’ sandwich. Let your moms yell at you. Watch TV with your hand down your pants. I don’t fuckin’ know.”
A laugh cracks out of him.
“Can’t just take a whole week off. Doesn’t work like that.”
I pat his chest—
“Then make sure you win.”