Royally Not Ready(73)

“Oh yeah, you’re really professional right now. More like a peeping Tom.”

“You’re right, sorry,” I answer before I turn toward my bedroom and slip into the dark space, my curtains not yet pulled back.

What am I doing?

Last night, I lost control. I tasted her, and for the entire jog, I was asking dumb questions because my mind couldn’t think of anything else as I watched her boobs bounce up and down next to me. All I could think about was how I’d had them in my mouth the night before. How they’d tasted, how she’d sounded when I sucked on them.

Or how it felt sliding along her clit.

Or her moans.

Or how her mouth tasted.

Fuck, I knew this was going to happen. One taste was all it took.

And then when I was saying good night, the slight sigh of relief when I kissed her one last time . . . I felt it all the way to the marrow of my bones.

So, what am I going to do now?

I clearly can’t concentrate properly, not the way that I need to.

But I know if I take another taste, that will be the end of me, there will be no turning back.

Fuck.

I grip my hair, pacing my room as I try to decide.

And then, when I look up, she’s standing in my doorway, a towel wrapped around her torso, looking so fuckable it’s painful.

“What are your training plans for today? I need to decide if I should wear a dress to practice formal dinner wear, or something more comfortable.” There’s so much snark coming out of her mouth right now, it makes me want to silence it with my dick.

“Crisis management,” I say.

“Oh, fun. That shouldn’t be boring at all.” She turns on her heel and heads into her bedroom.

“Wear something comfortable,” I call after her.

She peeks into the doorway. “Do you really think I’m that dumb?”

Jesus Christ. The fucking mood on her.

Can’t blame her, though. I didn’t kiss her. So, yeah, she’s going to be a wretched witch all day.

I tear my shirt over my head, strip down to nothing, and head into the bathroom. I turn on the shower, and since it’s already warm, I get in and start hosing myself down, only for Lilly to walk in, wearing a thong . . . and that’s it.

When she turns toward me, I watch her eyes travel down my body until they land on my hardening cock, caused by her inability to put on a shirt. Her tits will seriously be the death of me.

“Can you give me some privacy?” I ask.

“No,” she says and then turns back around and starts brushing her wet hair, giving me a great view of her ass.

Fucking woman.

She’s doing this on purpose.

She knows exactly what she’s doing, trying to drive me crazy.

“You know, you have a really nice cock,” she says. “Sad that it never gets used.”

My nostrils flare. “It gets used.”

“Oh yeah?” She turns around again. “By what? Your hand?”

Yes.

“Why are you provoking me?”

“I’m not, I’m just pointing out the obvious. You have a really nice cock, probably the best I’ve ever seen, and it’s a shame it’s not driving into a wet, soft pussy every night. You know, like mine.”

My groin tightens.

“Or has a warm, tight mouth sucking on it . . . like mine.”

My cock springs forward.

“Or, you know, a hand other than yours jacking you off until you come, like mine. Seems like a waste.” She glances down at my cock again, which is stretched up to my stomach. “Also a shame that beautiful erection will deflate when you’re done showering.”

Leave her alone, or take what I want?

Risk the job, or give in to my feelings?

She turns around and grips her tits in both hands, massaging them right in front of me as she grows closer. “God, we would’ve been so good together too, Keller.” She drags one finger up to her mouth, wets it, and then brings it all the way back down her body, slips it under the elastic of her thong and right to her clit, where I watch her fingers start to move back and forth. “Mmm, if only my fingers were your tongue. What I wouldn’t give to come all . . . over . . . your . . . mouth.”

My teeth grind together.

My mind turns black.

She snaps her hand out of her thong and walks up to me, then runs the tip of her finger over my lips. It takes about one second before I’m running my tongue along where she just touched, soaking up her essence. Smiling, she drags the tip of her fingernail down my body, to my cock, and sweeps it over the pre-cum that’s gathered on the tip.

With a step back, she brings her finger to her mouth and sucks it in, her eyes closing as she devours my taste.

“Mmm, you taste delicious.” Her eyes lock on mine. “Shame, Keller, such a shame.”

And then she turns and heads into her bedroom.

I nearly snap the showerhead in half from the grip I have on it.

You know how when you enter into the reptile part of your brain, nothing else matters besides the feelings you’re feeling at that moment?

Well . . . nothing fucking matters other than the one thing on my mind—getting between her legs.

I’ve snapped.

She’s broken me.

There’s only so much I can take, so much denial I can face before I crack.