fell apart. I’ve seen her a few times since I moved back to New York, and I know she would frown upon me thinking about myself this way.
Vanessa asking me questions about the picture brought it all back, though. I don’t know why after all these years I still have such a hard time talking about it. Maybe it’s because I still shoulder that blame. But as much as I condemn myself, deep down, somewhere in the recesses of my distorted mind on a good day, I know it wasn’t my fault. The burden rests solely on one person—my self-centered, drunken mother.
That woman has marked me, gouged my skin so deep. Her and that fucking babysitter. There’s only one moral to my story. Women are cruel and dishonest, and they can’t be trusted. They are, however, good for one thing.
I huff out an aggravated breath and finish cleaning up. By the time I’m done, sweat and funk stick to my body leaving behind a repulsive odor. I hop in the shower quickly and find myself scrubbing harder than normal. Maybe I’m trying to wash off more than just dirt.
It’s nearly six when I’m finished and I expect Vanessa in the next half hour. I’ve been thinking about her all day. There’s something about how direct she is. A woman who knows what she wants sexually and is not afraid to ask for it, is such a fucking turn on. Plus, she’s okay with taking the reins. Most of the women I’ve been with are not that vocal, and they like to be led.
Even thinking about her now, I’m already hard. I can’t wait to have my hands and mouth all over her. That scent of hers stayed with me today like a shadow. Every time I moved, it followed, impossible to escape.
After pulling on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt, I make my way out to the small living room to wait, when there’s a knock at the door. Everything south of my brain goes numb the moment I open it. Vanessa has her arm resting against the doorframe, those shapely legs crossed at the ankles in a sexy stance, and she’s wearing a short skirt, cut just above the knee. God, I love skirts. A barely there tank top shows every single curve of her breasts, my tongue jutting out at the thought of her nipple in my mouth again.
“Are you going to invite me in?” she asks, the sound of her voice extracting me from my lustful haze.
“Hey, uh yeah, come on in.” I usher her inside and close the door, taking a moment to check out that ass of perfection. As she tosses her purse onto the sofa, I come up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. My nose skims her neck and I inhale deeply, getting the first hit of what I’ve been craving. “Your scent has been on my mind all day,” I whisper against her ear, “your pussy, your skin,” and she sucks in a gulp of air. “You smell like fresh rain and something… sweet.”
She shivers as my lips follow a path along the line of her jaw, her head lolling to the side as I feather kisses across her cheek, her ear, her throat. A tiny noise travels from her mouth into the space between us, my dick instantly hard at the sound.
Draping her hair over her shoulder, I place one more kiss on her nape before dropping to my knees. My hands anxiously dip down to touch her, the pad of my thumb trailing the length of her leg, surprised when I reach her bare ass. My hand freezes, my cock twitching gratefully in my jeans. “Christ, Blondie, you’re going commando?”
“Hmm-mmm,” she mumbles as I reach around to cup her sex. She’s already wet and I’m at risk for coming in my pants—again. What is it about her that has me wound so tight I could snap at any moment? It’s as if my body goes into overdrive and I’m at her mercy.
My finger takes a slow slide between her pink lips, another sexy moan slips out and I groan. “Your pussy is so hot, so slick, you turn me on so fucking much,” I murmur and she whimpers.
“Rex,” she whimpers again, “I need your tongue.” And the way she says it, hoarse and full of want, has my dick straining against my
Vanessa asking me questions about the picture brought it all back, though. I don’t know why after all these years I still have such a hard time talking about it. Maybe it’s because I still shoulder that blame. But as much as I condemn myself, deep down, somewhere in the recesses of my distorted mind on a good day, I know it wasn’t my fault. The burden rests solely on one person—my self-centered, drunken mother.
That woman has marked me, gouged my skin so deep. Her and that fucking babysitter. There’s only one moral to my story. Women are cruel and dishonest, and they can’t be trusted. They are, however, good for one thing.
I huff out an aggravated breath and finish cleaning up. By the time I’m done, sweat and funk stick to my body leaving behind a repulsive odor. I hop in the shower quickly and find myself scrubbing harder than normal. Maybe I’m trying to wash off more than just dirt.
It’s nearly six when I’m finished and I expect Vanessa in the next half hour. I’ve been thinking about her all day. There’s something about how direct she is. A woman who knows what she wants sexually and is not afraid to ask for it, is such a fucking turn on. Plus, she’s okay with taking the reins. Most of the women I’ve been with are not that vocal, and they like to be led.
Even thinking about her now, I’m already hard. I can’t wait to have my hands and mouth all over her. That scent of hers stayed with me today like a shadow. Every time I moved, it followed, impossible to escape.
After pulling on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt, I make my way out to the small living room to wait, when there’s a knock at the door. Everything south of my brain goes numb the moment I open it. Vanessa has her arm resting against the doorframe, those shapely legs crossed at the ankles in a sexy stance, and she’s wearing a short skirt, cut just above the knee. God, I love skirts. A barely there tank top shows every single curve of her breasts, my tongue jutting out at the thought of her nipple in my mouth again.
“Are you going to invite me in?” she asks, the sound of her voice extracting me from my lustful haze.
“Hey, uh yeah, come on in.” I usher her inside and close the door, taking a moment to check out that ass of perfection. As she tosses her purse onto the sofa, I come up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. My nose skims her neck and I inhale deeply, getting the first hit of what I’ve been craving. “Your scent has been on my mind all day,” I whisper against her ear, “your pussy, your skin,” and she sucks in a gulp of air. “You smell like fresh rain and something… sweet.”
She shivers as my lips follow a path along the line of her jaw, her head lolling to the side as I feather kisses across her cheek, her ear, her throat. A tiny noise travels from her mouth into the space between us, my dick instantly hard at the sound.
Draping her hair over her shoulder, I place one more kiss on her nape before dropping to my knees. My hands anxiously dip down to touch her, the pad of my thumb trailing the length of her leg, surprised when I reach her bare ass. My hand freezes, my cock twitching gratefully in my jeans. “Christ, Blondie, you’re going commando?”
“Hmm-mmm,” she mumbles as I reach around to cup her sex. She’s already wet and I’m at risk for coming in my pants—again. What is it about her that has me wound so tight I could snap at any moment? It’s as if my body goes into overdrive and I’m at her mercy.
My finger takes a slow slide between her pink lips, another sexy moan slips out and I groan. “Your pussy is so hot, so slick, you turn me on so fucking much,” I murmur and she whimpers.
“Rex,” she whimpers again, “I need your tongue.” And the way she says it, hoarse and full of want, has my dick straining against my
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