Monday, January 28, 2013

Problem




      And then it was just the two of us. He took off his hat and laid it on the table.
      “You have good timing,” I said, staring at him and sipping my drink.
      He cleared his throat. “I don’t think your sister would agree with you.”
      I shrugged. “My sister and I don’t agree on much. Except, apparently, on the men we want to fuck.”
      He stared at me. “Shit.”
      I grinned. I licked my lips slowly and deliberately.
      “Amy wants to fuck me?” Hearing him say fuck sent a jolt to my cock.
      I nodded, almost snorting. “She’s got it bad.”
      Janice arrived with Michael’s drink. He took it, relieved. Once she’d gone, he slid further into the booth so that he was right beside me. He had a better view of the stage, so it didn’t look too weird.
      “So…” He took a sip of his drink. “You said you do some freelance writing. What kind of stuff?”
      I shrugged. “Whatever I can get. Nothing exciting. I’ve written articles for Men’s Health and G.Q.”
      “That’s great. Do you write anything else?”
      I looked him in the eye. “Yep. I write porn.”
      “Really?”
      I laughed. “No. I just wanted to see how you’d react.”
      “You like to tease me.”
      “Oh, baby. You have not seen teasing yet.”
      He grinned. Then he said, “Do you have it bad, Jack?”
      Holy fuck, he could play this game too. “I think you know.”
      He shook his head. “I don’t know anything.” He looked around as if someone might hear him. “For all I know you could be playing me…”
      “I let you kiss me.”
      “Still… how do I know what your motives are? Are you really interested in me—or are you just making me crazy for the fun of it?”
      I grinned and immediately respected him for calling me on it. I leaned forward. “Are you having fun?”
      He nodded.
      “Then, what’s the problem?”
      He stared at me. Then he reached under the table, took my hand gently from where it lay on my thigh, and put it against the front of his jeans.
      Holy. Fuck. I instinctively grabbed him. He gasped. His cock under the thick denim felt so huge and hard in my hand that my own pulsed and strained against my jeans.
      “That…” he said, looking at me pleadingly, “…is the problem.”
      I rubbed my hand reverently over his length. “Well, that’s a really big, I mean, a fucking huge, problem.” I swallowed the saliva that had pooled in my mouth.

~ From Chapter Two, The Crush


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