Torn(16)

I inch my hand up her stomach. It's tight, the skin smooth and soft. I cup her breast. I can hear the need in her moan. It's there in me too. The ache to be inside her is almost more than I can take.

I pinch her nipple between my thumb and index finger. I have to have it in my mouth. I have to lick it. I need to bite it. I want to feel her squirm.

"Stand still," I say, pulling back. "I'm so f*cking hard. So f*cking hard, Falon."

Her eyes drop to my jeans. Her hands are quick to follow. I have to take a step back because I know that even a slight graze of her fingers across my jeans is going to be too much. There's no way I'm going to blow my load like this. No f*cking way.

I let out a slow breath. "You can't touch me."

"Why?" she asks sharply. "What did I do?"

I laugh. "You kissed me. You touched my skin. You look like that."

She smiles. It's not that brilliant smile she gave me when she first saw me an hour ago. This smile is contained. She knows. She knows what she's doing to me.

"What do you want me to do?" she asks innocently, as if she's never brought another man to the brink of insanity with just the taste of her lips and the sounds she makes. Fuck those sounds. How am I ever going to get that out of my mind now?

I shift on my feet, hoping the movement will move my cock into another position. I'm hard as f*ck right now. I should tell her I want her to drop to her knees and take it down her throat.

She fidgets in front of me. Her hand tugging at the bottom of her blouse which is doing nothing but exposing her bra with each flick of her wrist.

I glance to the side. I need to think. I need to f*cking think about what I want. I don't want to do this if I'm using her as a shelter from my pain. If I f*ck her here, right now, she's an extension of all the vile anger and disappointment I'm feeling. I'll associate her with that forever. I can't do that. I won't do that. For some reason I can't explain, I actually like this girl.

"I want you to go out with me tonight."

Her hands busy themselves tucking her shirt back in. She doesn't say anything. She just meticulously puts herself back together again.

"Falon." I reach for her hands, cupping them in mine. "Go on a date with me tonight."

She clears her throat before she jerks her hands away. "I can't tonight. I have plans."

"Tomorrow, then?"

"I can't." She tilts her head slightly to look past me. "I need to get ready for another shoot I have in an hour. You should take off."

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" I ask because I have no idea what to say. I f*cked this up. She was primed and aching. Her body was practically begging to be taken and I asked her to dinner.

She hesitates and I wonder if she's about to tell me to go to hell but she doesn't. "I don't like games. I get that some girls like the whole playing hard to get bullshit, but I'm not one of them."

"I'm not doing that." I close my eyes for a few seconds, wanting my breathing to slow down.

"You are." Her tone is accusatory, her expression more so. Her hands jump to her hips. "What was all that? You kissed me like you wanted me."

This is a first. I've never once had a woman push me to explain when I've pulled back. It's only happened twice in the past. The first time the girl was drunk. I wasn't and when her lips slid over my cock and she almost fell over, I stopped it right there. She might not have regretted it in the morning, but I would have.

The other time was with someone I never want to think about again. We loved each other, we hated each other and the second time we were together, and I was above her, staring down at her face, I knew that if I entered her again, I'd lose too much of myself. I got up, dressed and walked out.

This isn't like that though. This is nothing like that.

"I want you."

"You stopped." She speaks quietly. "I thought we were on the same page."

I'm so messed up right now that I want to hear her spell it out to me. I want to hear her tell me that she thought we were going to f*ck. I want her to say that she thought I was going to drop to my knees and eat her out before I turned her around and took her hard against that wall.

"We're on the same page," I pause, trying to think of a way to salvage this.

Her eyes flash up to mine. "I think you should go."

"Change your plans and go out with me tonight, Falon," I say, straightening my stance. "We can do whatever you want. We can go to any restaurant in the city or I'll order something in."

"You're inviting me to your apartment?"

This woman is as stone faced as they come. I can't read anything in her tone or in the way her eyes are studying my face. I'm already chiding myself for not ripping her clothes off when I had the chance.

"I am," I say it with all the exuberance of a teenager asking a girl out for the very first time. "We can eat whatever you want."

She hesitates. "I can't change my plans and tomorrow I'm going to Brooklyn to see my folks."

I'm not used to getting shot down like this. I can take rejection. It's part and parcel of trying to make it in the music industry but when a woman that I'm craving tells me she's not into me, that's an entirely different kind of dismissal.