The Lying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #5)(54)

So polite.

I comply readily. “Here?”

“Can you move your fingers so they’re…” Her ass squirms, trying to direct me.

I move my fingers, assuming she wants them closer to her crack, and I must have flipped a magic switch because Skylar moans. Fucking moans loud. The fucks get harder. Deeper.

Tossing her head to the side, Skylar’s hair hangs in my face.

I spit out a few strands that land in my mouth, mindful to keep my fingers near her asshole.

Skylar is a bit dirty, a bit na?ve—a powerful combination.

“Just like that, yeah baby…”

She’s sexy as hell. So goddamn sexy.

She’s also talking to herself, lost in the moment, caught up in whatever shocks are overtaking that sweet pussy of hers, head lolling from side to side every few moments.

Lost. She’s lost in herself, and I’m lost in her and it’s freaking gorgeous.

I fucking love her.

One swipe.

One date.

Sweet. Salty. Bratty. Kind—and all mine.

I get lost in her, basking as she rides my hips, pressing down, pelvises rubbing together, the connection deep. She lowers a hand from the wall and lets it glide over the firm pecs of my chest, thumb flicking my nipple. Reaches behind and places it over mine, pushing—so I push harder.

Pushing deeper still.

Grind. Swivel.

Gasp.

Groan.

As I watch her lips part in ecstasy, I can’t help wondering if they’ll ever be wrapped around my dick, sucking it. Which is the worst possible thing to wonder when you’re trying not to come in under three minutes.

Too. Fucking. Late.

“Shit, Skylar, I’m gonna come.”

“No.” She’s barely paying me any attention, lost in the sensations of her own impending orgasm. “Not yet.”

Goddamn she’s a greedy little asshole.

“No?” I think my brows must go up, but I can’t tell for sure. My entire fucking body is one tingling nerve. “You want me to pull out? I’ll last longer.”

“You pull out and you die,” she whines.

Fuck, what does she want me to do! I’m three seconds from blowing my load.

“Skylar,” I warn. “Cats. Mom.” Fuck, do not think about your mother right now. “Uh. Horror movies. Cats again. Dead deer on the side of the road…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m trying not to come.”

“Oh my god, Abe, do not say that shit out loud.”

“Sorry.”

“Mmm, good boy…”

Annnd she’s back to sounding like a porn star.

That.

Does.

Not.

Help.

I buck harder, thrusting up. Pulling her down, going as deep as I possibly can. Dig my fingers into her ass cheeks without digging them into her asshole—I’m not into butt stuff. Bend my knees, raise my hips so we’re elevated off the bed, working my core muscles and fucking her hard, as best I can from the bottom while she fucks me from the top.

“Yes…oh god, yes, keep doing that don’t stop.”

I’m going to die anyway from exhaustion; I’m in great shape, but this might kill me in the end. Goddamn my abs are already aching, but if it makes her happy…

“Abe, god…ooo shit…oh baby, yes. Fuck, fuck, fuck…”





Skylar



“Give me all the details.”

“There aren’t many. I met him at the bookstore—it’s so cute, by the way—and we sat there for a few minutes chatting, no big deal. Then I made a joke about his height and he said, ‘Let’s compare,’ so we stood up, measured, and that’s when he kissed me.”

“He kissed you right there in the middle of the bookstore?” Her voice is wistful.

“Yeah—it was pretty romantic.”

“Did you stand there all night making out? I would have.”

“No, Hannah, we did not stand there all night making out, because we were in public. I have some class you know.” I rub my thighs together; they’re almost as sore as my crotch, the consequences of last night’s sexcapades pulsing between my legs. Ouch. “Actually, we were only at the bookstore a grand total of probably twenty minutes. Some lady interrupted us, so we left.”

Hannah stares, unblinking.

It’s so odd the way she tries to manipulate me into telling her stuff; she should be an interrogator.

“Then we went to the overlook.”

“And made out?”

“Er. Yeah, for about a minute.”

“Did he touch all your lady parts?”

“Yes. No. I mean—he touched my boobs.”

“Did he make you come?”

“Hannah!”

She leans back, satisfied. “I’ll take that enthusiastic response as a yes.”

“Fine. Yes. He made me come, but it wasn’t at the overlook.”

“Did you let him bang you?”

“Hannah!”

“You know what, Skylar?” She throws down her blanket in an indignant huff. “If you didn’t freak out every time I asked you a personal question, it wouldn’t be this much fun. Did you or did you NOT let the kid bang you last night? Just answer the damn question and stop acting like a prude!”