24. A Little Lipstick, Please
A LITTLE LIPSTICK, PLEASE
Wesley
This is playing with fire on so many levels. Sure, she’s my teammate’s sister, but more importantly? In a few short weeks, she’s become my friend. A good one, at that. Most of all, she’s my goddamn roommate.
Giving in to this lust is such a risk. It’s a massive complication. We’ll be sharing this kitchen, this living room, this home through the end of the year. Every second I see her in my house could be uncomfortable.
And yet, I don’t stop.
I go.
I gather up the hem of her peach sundress in one hand, my other hand holding the lipstick tube. “This gives me an idea,” I muse as I push up the fabric, revealing more of her lovely thighs.
“A very bad one?” she asks, turning my words right back on me.
I lean in closer. “A very good one.”
Her bright blue eyes flash with excitement. With filthy hope. “Well, don’t leave a girl hanging.”
That’s my Josie—full of sass and fire. My bold, funny, daring one-night stand. The woman I couldn’t get enough of. The woman I was desperate to see again.
Right now, I try to think of her that way rather than as the woman who’s inextricably wrapped up in my life.
Letting go of the cotton material, I sweep a hand behind her, pushing ingredients, the cutting board, and the bowls, farther away on the counter, making room.
Then, I return to her, sliding my palm down her bare thigh, savoring the way she trembles as I touch her.
When I reach her ankle, my gaze shifts to her toes.
She fixed the aqua polish on the little pinky, and this detail makes my heart squeeze. It’s so very Josie.
In fact, it’s so very her, I’d better not think too hard on it or it’ll do dangerous things to my heart. Instead, I hike up her foot, setting the arch of it on the edge of the counter so her legs widen.
A sharp breath crosses her lips. I groan. Those lips. Dear god, those pretty pink lips. I ache to kiss her—with a sharp pang that’s so insistent, it’s borderline impossible to deny.
But if I kiss her again, I’ll get lost in her. It’s best to play. Have fun. Bend the rules. Not break them. That’s my plan—and it’s a plan that I’ve been formulating ever since I set eyes on that rose-gold lipstick tube.
I travel my hand back up her leg, goose bumps rising on her soft skin as I coast my palm over her. When I skim that hand along her thigh, she shudders, arching her back, lifting up her tits.
My mind goes hazy. My skin burns hot. Her reactions thrill me to the marrow. I’m so tempted to kiss her. But I focus on my impromptu plan. I push up the skirt to her waist, revealing her panties. They’re white cotton with pink polka dots, and—“You’re soaked, baby.”
She meets my eyes with a naughty smile of her own. “News flash: you kind of turn me on.”
I smile, feeling ten feet tall. “Kind of?”
She purses her lips then shudders out a breath. “Find out if it’s more than kind of.”
With a smirk, I waggle the lipstick tube, then lower it between her thighs.
Her eyes widen to moons. “Are you…?”
“Going to use this on you? You bet I fucking am.”
She draws a deep breath. “Then bend the rules.”
Yeah, she does know me so well. Knows exactly what I’m doing. I’m using a loophole. Technically, I’m not touching her. The tube is. I slide it over the fabric covering her clit. She parts her lips in the most gorgeous O. Then she breathes out a small but feral, “Oh god.”
She’s so aroused. So ready.
And I am so determined to get her off. The top of the tube is angled, so I rub it around her clit, then down the damp panel of her panties. Her eyes flutter closed and she grips the counter. Her fingers claw at the edge as she holds on while I stroke her. Circle her. Caress her.
She has no reservations, and it’s beautiful to watch.
Josie is so free in bed, and I’m in awe.
She leans her head back, and I don’t even think she realizes she’s still wearing her glasses.
Or maybe she does and doesn’t care. She lifts her chest. Her tits are heaving, her body arching, her foot curling over the edge of the counter.
She is shameless, and it’s so unbelievably hot.
My bones are on fire, and I’m going to let them burn. Mesmerized, I slide the metallic tube slowly, tantalizingly over the white wet fabric, then I zero in on her clit.
She’s moaning and panting, giving in to the way we’re playing. “Feels so good,” she mutters.
“You need it badly, don’t you?” I say, fighting to keep control, focusing on her pleasure only.
Getting her off is all I’ll allow myself.
Correction: Getting her off like this. This is…like cheating on a diet. Skipping the bench press at the gym. Eating one cookie. It won’t ruin me. This extreme focus on her will simply release the tension between us. A valve loosened—that’s all.
With that squarely in mind, I tease her clit through the soaked fabric.
Her noises grow deliciously louder. Soft murmurs.
Hungry whimpers. A breathy cry. Her thighs are spread.
Her cheeks are flushed. Her hair is falling out of her bun.
It’s the perfect picture of this forbidden moment.
But then she lets go of the counter, and I tense all over.
I want her to touch me so badly, but if she touches me I’m so fucked.
My control—frayed to a thread already—will snap.
She doesn’t reach for me though. With eyes closed, she squeezes her breast. My brain goes haywire, nerves firing, mind popping. As she fondles herself, she parts her lips and whispers, “Wes.”
For a split second I gaze down at her gorgeous mouth, then give all the way in, “Fuck it.”
I let go of her thigh, cover her throat with my palm, and yank her toward me.
My mouth crashes down on hers. I kiss her wildly as I stroke her with the lipstick tube. I devour her sweet cinnamon mouth as I rub the lipstick faster. I suck on her tongue. I bite her lip. I consume her.
She snakes a hand down, grabbing mine, breaking the kiss, and muttering, “Fingers. Or cock. Please.”
I am not strong enough to withstand this demand.
I am not disciplined enough to resist.
I am just unable to stop.
I toss the lipstick somewhere on the counter, but before I can even get my fingers inside her soaked panties she’s grabbing my hand, guiding it over her, showing me how she likes it, and fuck, if that’s not the hottest thing ever.
This woman is using my hand to get herself off, covering her fingers with mine.
She knows what she needs and she takes it from me, working herself over with just my middle finger, covered by hers.
“I fuck myself to you every night,” she whispers, and I nearly explode.
She gasps, then freezes in place. The world goes still and savagely hot. It sparks, crackling like wildfire as she calls out my name, coming on the counter mere seconds later.
It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, and it eats me alive.
As she’s panting, she lifts her mouth to me, an offering. Like I could resist her anymore. I grab her face and kiss her hard, ruthlessly. Tug her against me. Own that gorgeous mouth.
She wraps her legs around my waist, tugging me closer. Then breaking the kiss to say, “You’d better let me objectify your cock now.”
It takes me a beat to reconnect her words to the night we met—when she wanted to suck me off and I stopped her so I could eat her sweet, perfect pussy instead.
I have no regrets from back then. But I know I’d regret stopping this. One glance at the oven clock tells me there’s not nearly enough time for the things I want to do to her in bed. My flight leaves in a few hours. But there’s time for more rule-breaking. There is absolutely fucking time.
After I remove my apron, I scoop my hands around her ass and lift her off the counter. “Get down on your knees. Take my dick out. And suck me off like you do when I picture your mouth every goddamn night.”
“Finally,” she teases as she drops down to her knees and tugs at my sweats.
I’m so turned on, so aroused I feel like a hedonist taking the pleasure of her mouth as she pushes down my briefs. When my cock springs free, she slides her teeth across her bottom lip, like she approves of my dick.
“Will that work for you?” I ask playfully.
She smiles. “Your dick will do.”
“I want to fuck the innuendo right out of your mouth,” I growl.
“Then do it.” With mischief in her eyes, she says, “After all, you wanted to have fun besides hockey. Here’s your chance.”
A laugh bursts from me. A fucking laugh as a prelude to a blow job. Who even is this woman in my kitchen on her knees, about to lick the head of my dick? But the second her pink tongue teases the tip, questions fall out of my head, along with thoughts and reason.
I’m nothing but a livewire as my roommate twirls her tongue along the tip, treating me like a piece of candy, humming as she goes.
“You look fucking incredible,” I murmur.
That catches her attention. Josie stops.
“Hold on,” she says, and like she just remembered she’s wearing them, she darts up a hand, removes her glasses, and sets them on the counter.
She returns to my aching dick in seconds.
While she draws me back into the warmth of her mouth, she reaches up and undoes her hair from the messy bun.
It falls in wild, just-been-fucked waves over her shoulders.
I’m toast. “You’re my sexy librarian,” I say, then I push in, “taking off your glasses.” I thread a hand through those lush chestnut locks as she parts her lips wider. “Letting down your hair.”
She murmurs something against my dick. I’m not sure what, but it sounds like for you.
That’s all I need to hear. I curl both hands around her head.
She grips my thigh with her right hand while she curls the left around the base of my cock.
She’s pumping me and sucking me, and I’m sizzling everywhere.
Crackling in my cells. My bones vibrate with hot, urgent need like they do every damn night when I’m alone in my bed.
“I picture this,” I mutter, beginning my confession.
She looks up at me with wide eyes, asking for more of the story.
“At night. I get off to you.”