Picking Up the Pieces (Pieces, #2)(79)

“Sure,” she laughed. “Is it all over your car too?”

“Pretty much,” I smirked.

“Oh no. Come up, and you can clean up and then bring down some wet paper towels for your car. It’s probably not good to leave it on the leather too long.”

I followed Mary up the two flights of stairs to her apartment and into the kitchen, glancing around her apartment as I strolled through. For someone who had just moved in, her place was well put together. The living room was furnished tastefully: neutral furniture with a few splashes of reds and oranges to give it a less sterile feel.

“Here,” she said, grabbing my sweater at the bottom with both hands. “Take your shirt off, and I’ll throw it in the wash for you.”

I didn’t really care what she planned to do with my shirt once it was off of me. When a hot woman tells me to take off an article of clothing, it usually takes very little convincing for me to do so. I set the Styrofoam container on the counter and lifted my arms above my head, enjoying the feel of Mary stripping my shirt from me. As she stretched to reach up, her body inched closer to mine so that when she finally peeled my sweater over my head, our faces were nearly touching. Immediately, I felt the tension between us. Me: resisting the urge to pull her against me and inhale the scent of her flowery shampoo. And her: resisting the urge to let me.

She swallowed hard and took a step back, but the physical distance did nothing to alleviate the electricity between us. “Uh,” she stammered, “I’m just gonna throw this in the wash.” She pointed toward the stackable washer and dryer behind her, but her eyes never left mine. “You can wash up, and then we can clean your car out.”

My right hand was still covered in mascarpone, pudding, and cocoa, so I made a move toward the sink to my left before stopping. “We should at least taste it first, don’t you think?” I asked, lowering my voice softly in that seductive way I knew most women couldn’t resist. I slid my index finger inside my mouth, licking off the sweet dessert before pulling my finger out slowly. “You want a taste?” I asked.

I heard only the gasp of a sharp inhale before Mary let her mouth fall open just enough that I knew her answer. Stepping toward her, I extended my thumb, letting her suck gently. The feel of her soft wet tongue around my finger made my already semi-erect cock stiffen fully against my jeans as I imagined her mouth around it instead. There was no amount of jerking off that would satiate the need I felt for her.

I slipped my thumb out, tugging slightly on the corner of her mouth on the way. My hand came to rest around the back of her neck as I leaned in to push her lips against mine. Quickly, I spun her, slamming her up against the fridge, causing her to drop my shirt. My mouth worked its way urgently down her neck to her collarbone, and the moans that escaped her made me harder than I’d been in weeks. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” I promised her. Despite the fact that I would have one hell of a case of blue balls if we stopped now, I respected Mary. I liked her even. And I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.

I rubbed shamelessly against her, enjoying the friction of her body stroking my cock through my jeans. There was only one other time that I remembered being so turned on that I thought I might actually come in my pants, and I quickly pushed that thought from my memory. The last thing I needed was to think about her right now.

Mary’s moans told me she didn’t want me to stop, but I needed a respite from the stimulation. So I slid her away from the fridge, picking her up with one fluid movement and sitting her on the counter. I positioned myself between her legs, spreading them farther apart as I pulled her ass closer to the edge.

I let my fingers stroke the insides of her thigh to see if she’d shy away. When she didn’t, my hand inched up above the hem of her dark gray dress to the lace of her underwear. I pulled roughly on the fabric, causing the back of her thong to slide up the crack of her ass. It seemed to startle her at first, but this was a Samson Signature Move, and I anticipated her response perfectly. After a few moments, she enjoyed the feeling of the taut fabric rubbing against such a private area, and she leaned back to allow me access to her slippery cunt. “I bet I can make you come just like this,” I said, massaging her clit with my fingers as I pulled roughly on her thong to stimulate her ass.

Her only response was a whimper as she reached for my belt, fumbling for a few moments before slipping her hand down my pants to grasp my pulsing hard-on. God, yes. “You don’t have any boxers on,” she said.

Why are girls always surprised by that? “Nope. Does that bother you?”

“No, I just didn’t know guys did that.” Her breathing hitched slightly as I sped up my deliberate strokes against her clit, and I could sense her struggling to concentrate on my cock in her hand. “Like this?” she asked, sliding her hand up and down my length.

This girl’s innocence was as big of a turn-on as the handjob itself. “I like it pretty hard and fast.”

“Show me then.”

Shit, that’s hot. With my free hand, I gripped myself hard, pulling in long quick strokes as I moved my hand across the tip and back down again as she watched me. “Like this,” I said, removing my own hand and replacing it with hers. “That’s it, baby,” I said when she gripped it tightly in her fist and began pumping roughly. I was beginning to rethink my hard and fast request as I felt myself get dangerously close to coming on Mary’s countertop.