Chapter 15
MIKE
Every sexual encounter in my life had been preparation for this moment, and I was now glad for it. Because when Lyssa Luxe was naked in my tub and upset because she couldn’t get off, I knew what to do.
I thanked the stars for my slutty past as I counted three Mississippis.
Unsurprisingly, once Lyssa was underwater, she didn’t keep fingering her clit. Her hands clutched at the side of the tub and at my wrist, splashing water all over me and the floor.
But she didn’t pinch.
On three, I let her up.
Gasping, she blinked through the water running down her face. Thick smears of makeup were pooled under her eyes.
God help me, I loved seeing her like this.
Lyssa Luxe was a mess of a person, obsessed with trying to manage and fight who she was. Here, with me, she could be as messy as she wanted.
I fucking loved her mess.
“Keep finger fucking yourself,” I ordered.
“Mike—”
“Big breath,” I said again, and that was all the warning I gave her. Back under the water she went. But this time, her rapidly moving hand churned through the water, working her clit.
One, two, three.
Her head split the surface the second I took my hand off her chest.
Pushing dripping slicks of dark hair off her face, she begged, “Please, Mike!”
I studied her wild eyes and heaving chest. “Please what?”
But she hesitated, so back under she went. Just for two seconds this time. I didn’t actually want to restrict her air. I just wanted to shock and distract her.
When Lyssa came back up the third time, she was more vocal. “Please, Mike, please ,” she begged. She was almost in tears, and something dark and hungry roared in my belly. “Please put your cock in me, or your fingers, or something .”
“Why, Princess?”
“I need it!” she sobbed. “I need you inside me. I want to be filled.”
Her words were like a string wrapping around my dick and tugging.
I fantasized about pulling her out of there right now, sinking her down on me, bare; and making her ride me until she’d milked my cock dry.
I’d fuck her so full of cum, some would run back out down her thighs, my filthy, slutty Princess.
It made my balls ache imagining it.
But that was what I needed.
“No,” I answered her, my voice rough. “You don’t need my cock to come. You have everything you need. Put your fingers in your pussy. Two fingers. Now. ”
My sexy little mess didn’t argue or hesitate, like she would have ten minutes ago. Instead she spread her knees and tilted her pelvis up. It was hard to see under the milky water, but when her whimper broke off into a gasp, I knew she’d plunged her fingers to the hilt.
“That’s it,” I crooned, “just like that.”
She was so wet and ready, her hand moved easily. I put my arm back behind her head so she didn’t hurt herself as she lost control. With a breathy curse, she leaned back against my arm as her hand began to pump harder, faster.
She was perfect, incredible. Mine.
When her body began to tremble and she moaned one long, desperate sound, I nearly had to stuff a fucking fist in my mouth.
I was white-knuckling the side of the bath now, my cock painfully hard.
I tried to shift my stance, hoping it might subdue things, but there was no help for it.
What I wouldn’t give for her to jerk me off later with that same hand she’d fucked herself with.
“Like—” Lyssa broke off with another one of those keening sounds I wanted to record and set as my morning alarm. “Like this, Mike?”
“Yeah, Princess.” I growled. “In and out. Feel how tight you are.”
Lyssa did as I told her. Dunking her had done wonders for her listening skills.
This was why I was a fucking genius and people should always listen to me.
I knew this girl wouldn’t have any problems coming if she’d just trust herself and stop letting limp-dick office creeps make her believe she was lacking.
She’d needed a crude motherfucker like me to show her she was gorgeous, perfect, incredible—the sexiest woman I’d ever seen.
Lyssa’s eyes were starting to roll back now. She was close.
The straps of her dress had slipped off her shoulders, baring her breasts. Her nipples poked through the surface of the water. I licked my lips. What I wouldn’t give to suck on those little buds—to lick and tease them until they were bright red and wet, as she writhed for me.
Like she was in my fucking head, Lyssa reached up and started tugging at one of her nipples, moaning like a sexy banshee, which was a kink I didn’t know I had until today.
“That’s it, Princess” I murmured again, because I knew she liked it.
Her other hand worked faster then, all sense of rhythm gone the way of her self-consciousness.
I couldn’t see what she was doing at all.
I couldn’t tell if she was being kind to her sweet little clit or mean, or how many fingers she was using—maybe she’d slipped in another?
I would have sold my fucking house to see how many fingers she had inside her, but I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn’t for me.
But damn, when she came, it still felt like a huge gift from the universe to one Mike Holliday.
Lyssa’s underwater pumping ceased abruptly then, and she let out a hoarse cry.
Her back arched, pushing those obscene fucking tits out of the water.
Her body shuddered and shuddered, then slowly, like a plant stretching to the light, the tension left her, muscle by muscle, and she sank back down into the water, a gooey smile on her face.
She was perfect.
Red-faced and sweaty, this was the most relaxed I’d ever seen her.
She let out an exhausted giggle, and my heart flipped in my chest. I was a mess of feelings.
Pride, because I’d put that look on her face.
Frustration, because she’d been fucking losers who’d never given her the time or attention she’d needed.
Jealousy, because monkey brain. Then, finally, a primitive kind of glee, because I was now the only one who had seen her come.
I was unhealthily obsessed with Lyssa Luxe.
I could admit that now, but I had resolved to keep my distance after the thing on the side of the road, because I knew my obsession had the potential to go nuclear, and it was clear I was way too experienced for her.
But all this resolve had crumbled when I’d seen her in my tub in her see-through dress. Frustrated. Needing me . And it wasn’t for me, what we’d just done, so I hadn’t really broken my resolve to stay away from her. This had been for her . It was basically a public service!
Meanwhile, I was going to split my pants with this tent pole of a dick.
Gritting my teeth, I ignored it.
I smoothed her hair back from her face. “How’re you doing, Princess?”
She mumbled something incoherent.
“Little Miss Shakespeare, lost for words?”
She mumbled something else. Could have been shut up Mike , could have been you’re a god, Mike . Probably that last one.
“Don’t you—” Her voice was hoarse, which just made me grin. Lyssa Luxe was a screamer, and I was the only person on Earth who knew that. The knowledge was like a fire in my chest.
“Don’t you have to go back to work?” she asked finally.
“Nah. Nothing on this arvo.”
I’d texted the party parent and told her we had to meet tomorrow. She hadn’t replied, so she might move her son’s party from Levitate now, but honestly, it was hard to give a shit at this particular second.
Slowly, I got to my feet. I was twenty-seven but kneeling so long on the floor made my knees feel twice that. Not to mention the agony of my stubborn stiffy.
Is excusing yourself to jerk off bad manners?
As quickly as the idea occurred, I disregarded it. It’d make me feel like a cat creeping away to die.
“You want an ice cream?” I asked my little banshee, who was blissed out in cooling water, smiling at the ceiling.
She blinked at me.
“Ice cream? You know, cold? Yum?” I mimed licking the air over my fist, which made her cheeks flush and my pants problem get worse.
I left her there to figure out for herself how to come back down to earth. I couldn’t stay in my current state.
In the kitchen, I pulled open the freezer door and stood in front of it, wondering—hoping—it could freeze off an erection.
* * *
Later, in my living room, Lyssa sat on my couch, wrapped in a fluffy robe that was pink and had different words for cheese written all over it.
While she’d been drying off, I’d busied myself in the kitchen, making cups of tea and putting scoops of ice cream in cones.
I thought things in my pants had chilled out enough for us to have a normal conversation without me eye fucking her when she wasn’t looking, but too late I realized that giving her a licking food when I was at half-mast had been a terrible idea.
But I’d promised her ice cream, and if anyone had promised me ice cream, then taken it back, I’d have flipped my lid.
“What’s this?” Lyssa asked as I put the ice cream down in front of her.
I shot her a look.
“But the plate?” She pointed at the dish I’d placed her salted caramel cone on, partly because I didn’t want to risk touching her as I passed her a cone—in my current state, I’d probably cream my undies at one accidental touch.
Pathetic. Also I knew she’d get distracted eating her cone and it would melt all over her.
See, I wasn’t as dumb as everyone thought.
Or I probably was, but I wasn’t dumb when it came to Lyssa. Because she made perfect sense.
“This is a fancy joint, Lyssa,” I joked. “We use plates around here.”
She giggled.
It was a real fucking inconvenience that she looked just as beautiful sitting here on my couch, her legs tucked under her with her red-tipped toes peeking out, as she had orgasming in my tub.
My deepest wish right now was for her to leave the house so I could jack off in the shower.
I was close to insisting she do that, but instead, I settled in my armchair on the other side of the room and brought up the most boner-killing topic I could think of.