Feeling Hot
Page 25
He could totally do this. As long as he avoided eye contact and kept the conversation neutral he’d get through this night, no problem.
And what about the other twenty or so nights?
Cash promptly silenced his inner Negative Nancy. He just had to take a page of the Alcoholics Anonymous book. One day at a time. The next three weeks would fly by as long as he kept his cool.
“I can’t eat another bite,” Jen said with a satisfied groan. She grabbed a napkin from the table and demurely wiped the corners of her mouth like she was the queen of England.
Though he highly doubted the queen of England wore her f**king underwear to dinner.
“Thanks for treating,” she added. “I’ll get dinner tomorrow.”
“Sure,” he agreed, wincing at the hoarse note in his voice. He promptly concentrated on the television again and pretended to care about the antics of Steve Carell and the rest of the cast, but when another commercial break came on, he had no choice but to glance over at Jen and wait for the next round of neutral small-talk.
When he glimpsed the thoughtful light in those big blue eyes, he started to get a bad feeling. Gulping, he picked up his beer and took a long swig.
“So what’s your favorite sexual position?”
Cash choked mid-sip.
Coughing wildly, he put his bottle on the table and gawked at her. “Excuse me?”
“Your favorite sexual position,” she repeated.
He gritted his teeth. “I’m not telling you that. It’s inappropriate subject matter for two people who won’t be having sex.”
“Friends talk about stuff like that. Me and Tessa do it all the time.”
He gave a stubborn shake of the head. “No way.”
“Come on,” she cajoled. “Let me guess, it’s doggy-style, right? You totally seem like the doggy-style kinda guy.”
His jaw started to hurt, he was grinding his teeth that hard. “I know what you’re doing, Jenny, and it ain’t gonna work.”
Her expression epitomized innocence. “I’m just trying to get to know you. As a friend.”
“You want to get to know me? Ask me what my favorite color is, or my favorite movie.” He answered before she could say a word. “Black. Die Hard. There, sharing time is over.”
“My favorite position is missionary,” she said, ignoring him. “Very vanilla of me, I guess, but I think there’s a deeper intimacy there. Oh, and when the guy’s on top, it’s easier for me to come because his pelvis rubs against my cli—”
“Jesus!” Cash interrupted.
Too late. Her words had sent an onslaught of images into his head and now all he could picture was Jen’s perfect body writhing beneath him as his stupid pelvis stroked her clit with every thrust of his cock. His very hard cock. Like the hard c**k pushing against his shorts at the moment.
Breathing sharply through his nose, he ordered the erection to retreat. When it didn’t, he had to wait for Jen to lean forward to set her beer on the table before he made a subtle rearrangement down below. From the smirk she shot him, he knew she’d noticed what he’d done.
“You really won’t tell me your favorite position?” she prompted.
“Nope.”
“Okay. I’ll just keep guessing then.” She lifted her legs and sat cross-legged on the couch, her blonde hair falling over one shoulder. “I’m thinking missionary, except you’re on your knees and the chick’s ankles are up on your shoulders so you can drive deeper—”
“Woman on top,” he burst out.
“Huh. Really?”
Cash clenched his jaw. “Yes.”
“Why?”
Because there was nothing hotter than watching a pair of sexy tits swaying as their owner rode him like a cowgirl…
He bit back the response, shoved away the new swarm of dirty images, and glared at her. “Just because.” Then he picked up his bottle and drained the whole damn thing.
“Have you ever been in a threesome? I haven’t,” she said matter-of-factly.
Cash briefly closed his eyes. Would it be rude if he excused himself and spent the rest of the night jacking off in the shower?
Probably.
“Well, have you?” the relentless blonde pushed when he didn’t respond.
He sighed. “Yes.”
Was that disappointment in her eyes? Oh hell, it was. He couldn’t explain the rush of unhappiness that flooded his gut at the thought of this woman being disappointed in him.
But wait… There was a spark of jealousy there too. Oh brother. She wasn’t disappointed in him, but over the fact that she’d never experienced a ménage.
Jen tipped her head to the side. “You, another guy and a girl, or two girls and you?” Her eyes widened. “Oooh, or maybe you and two guys? That would be hot.”
“Me, guy, girl.” His voice was as stiff as his cock.
“What’s it like?” she asked curiously.
God help him.
“I’m not talking about this anymore,” he muttered.
“Pretty thrilling, I bet,” she mused, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve always wondered what being with two men would feel like. Two sets of hands on my body, two mouths and tongues and—”
Cash shot to his feet. “I feel like another beer. You?”
He heard her chuckling as he sprinted to the kitchen. He threw open the fridge door and shoved his head into the cold space, hoping the chill would ease the hot throbbing in his body. The woman was tormenting him. On purpose. And judging from the laughter that continued to trickle behind him, she was enjoying every damn second of it.
And what about the other twenty or so nights?
Cash promptly silenced his inner Negative Nancy. He just had to take a page of the Alcoholics Anonymous book. One day at a time. The next three weeks would fly by as long as he kept his cool.
“I can’t eat another bite,” Jen said with a satisfied groan. She grabbed a napkin from the table and demurely wiped the corners of her mouth like she was the queen of England.
Though he highly doubted the queen of England wore her f**king underwear to dinner.
“Thanks for treating,” she added. “I’ll get dinner tomorrow.”
“Sure,” he agreed, wincing at the hoarse note in his voice. He promptly concentrated on the television again and pretended to care about the antics of Steve Carell and the rest of the cast, but when another commercial break came on, he had no choice but to glance over at Jen and wait for the next round of neutral small-talk.
When he glimpsed the thoughtful light in those big blue eyes, he started to get a bad feeling. Gulping, he picked up his beer and took a long swig.
“So what’s your favorite sexual position?”
Cash choked mid-sip.
Coughing wildly, he put his bottle on the table and gawked at her. “Excuse me?”
“Your favorite sexual position,” she repeated.
He gritted his teeth. “I’m not telling you that. It’s inappropriate subject matter for two people who won’t be having sex.”
“Friends talk about stuff like that. Me and Tessa do it all the time.”
He gave a stubborn shake of the head. “No way.”
“Come on,” she cajoled. “Let me guess, it’s doggy-style, right? You totally seem like the doggy-style kinda guy.”
His jaw started to hurt, he was grinding his teeth that hard. “I know what you’re doing, Jenny, and it ain’t gonna work.”
Her expression epitomized innocence. “I’m just trying to get to know you. As a friend.”
“You want to get to know me? Ask me what my favorite color is, or my favorite movie.” He answered before she could say a word. “Black. Die Hard. There, sharing time is over.”
“My favorite position is missionary,” she said, ignoring him. “Very vanilla of me, I guess, but I think there’s a deeper intimacy there. Oh, and when the guy’s on top, it’s easier for me to come because his pelvis rubs against my cli—”
“Jesus!” Cash interrupted.
Too late. Her words had sent an onslaught of images into his head and now all he could picture was Jen’s perfect body writhing beneath him as his stupid pelvis stroked her clit with every thrust of his cock. His very hard cock. Like the hard c**k pushing against his shorts at the moment.
Breathing sharply through his nose, he ordered the erection to retreat. When it didn’t, he had to wait for Jen to lean forward to set her beer on the table before he made a subtle rearrangement down below. From the smirk she shot him, he knew she’d noticed what he’d done.
“You really won’t tell me your favorite position?” she prompted.
“Nope.”
“Okay. I’ll just keep guessing then.” She lifted her legs and sat cross-legged on the couch, her blonde hair falling over one shoulder. “I’m thinking missionary, except you’re on your knees and the chick’s ankles are up on your shoulders so you can drive deeper—”
“Woman on top,” he burst out.
“Huh. Really?”
Cash clenched his jaw. “Yes.”
“Why?”
Because there was nothing hotter than watching a pair of sexy tits swaying as their owner rode him like a cowgirl…
He bit back the response, shoved away the new swarm of dirty images, and glared at her. “Just because.” Then he picked up his bottle and drained the whole damn thing.
“Have you ever been in a threesome? I haven’t,” she said matter-of-factly.
Cash briefly closed his eyes. Would it be rude if he excused himself and spent the rest of the night jacking off in the shower?
Probably.
“Well, have you?” the relentless blonde pushed when he didn’t respond.
He sighed. “Yes.”
Was that disappointment in her eyes? Oh hell, it was. He couldn’t explain the rush of unhappiness that flooded his gut at the thought of this woman being disappointed in him.
But wait… There was a spark of jealousy there too. Oh brother. She wasn’t disappointed in him, but over the fact that she’d never experienced a ménage.
Jen tipped her head to the side. “You, another guy and a girl, or two girls and you?” Her eyes widened. “Oooh, or maybe you and two guys? That would be hot.”
“Me, guy, girl.” His voice was as stiff as his cock.
“What’s it like?” she asked curiously.
God help him.
“I’m not talking about this anymore,” he muttered.
“Pretty thrilling, I bet,” she mused, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve always wondered what being with two men would feel like. Two sets of hands on my body, two mouths and tongues and—”
Cash shot to his feet. “I feel like another beer. You?”
He heard her chuckling as he sprinted to the kitchen. He threw open the fridge door and shoved his head into the cold space, hoping the chill would ease the hot throbbing in his body. The woman was tormenting him. On purpose. And judging from the laughter that continued to trickle behind him, she was enjoying every damn second of it.
