Page 99 of Bourbon Kingdom
“I’m sorry, do you want me to leave?” Jett asked, all sweet and concerned.
I wanted to flip him off, to punch him in the crotch, and kick him square on the shin.
No, I didn’t want him to leave. That would be saying, “No, ma’am, I don’t want the corn dog that’s made out of gold,” or something to that effect. What I wanted was for him to have never fucked things up between us because if he was able to control his temper, his psychotic-ness, then we wouldn’t be in this mess. I wouldn’t be sexually frustrated, and I wouldn’t be wavering between wanting to poke him with a fire stick and letting him poke me with his stick.
What a predicament.
Without saying another word, Jett started to get out of the bed, making me want to scream at the absurdity of the situation.
“Ugh, don’t fucking go,” I said in an annoyed tone.
“That’s convincing,” Jett responded with a half-smile.
“Stop it, just stop it,” I demanded. “God, I’m so annoyed with you right now. You’re acting all sweet when I need to be mad at you. I want to be mad at you.”
“But, you’re not.”
“I am! It’s just that, my horniness is taking over. I can’t think clearly when your rock hard body is pressed against mine. Do you really think that’s fair, Jett?”
“Fair? Are you serious right now? You’re wearing a thin tank top with no bra and you were just laying on top of me. I could feel every movement of your nipple against my chest, and then you go and grab my dick like you’re digging around for gold. Do you think that’s fair?”
“Oh, poor rich billionaire, a girl was fondling your dick,” I said in a smarmy voice. “Grow a real problem.”
“You’re quite sassy tonight.”
“No, Jett. I’m horny,” I sat up and pulled the sheets down. I pointed at my crotch and said, “There is a dried up lady cactus down there; she hasn’t been cleaned out and rehydrated in weeks. She’s desperate.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.
Refraining from smacking him on the head, I held my hands down and said, “Oh, you’re just enjoying this all too much, aren’t you?”
“Just a little,” he admitted, but held up his hands before I could go bat-shit crazy on his ass. “I only admit to that because, ever since I met you, you’ve been a vixen, teasing me, disobeying me, making my life that much more difficult in the bedroom, so it’s a fresh breath of air to see you struggle.”
“Oh, is that right? You like to see me struggle? Fine!”
Without a word, I stuck my hand down my shorts and found my clit, not even giving him a warning. I started playing around with the little beast that’s been tormenting me the past couple of weeks.
A low growl escaped Jett as he watched me finger myself. Ha, take that, you fucker!
He watched me with determination, and when I thought I’d cracked him, when I thought he was going to lose that stone veneer, he pulled his boxer briefs down, freed his erection, and started stroking himself while he watched me.
Tou-fucking-che.
Instantly, my eyes flew to his cock, where his hand squeezed tightly around his shaft and pulled on it, tugged the fuck out of it, and then rounded the head of his cock with precision.
My mouth filled with saliva as I watched what he was doing with fascination. Every stroke of his hand hardened his length, and a small glisten of moisture formed at the tip of his beautiful cock.
Oh, hell.
Like a razor to a stray pube, I felt myself move toward him.
Ew, I was gross. Note to self, don’t use that analogy again.
His eyes were trained on me as I moved closer; he knew exactly what he was doing; he knew he was enticing me, and damn if it wasn’t working. I only had so much willpower, and the minute Jett took off almost all of his clothes, my last shred of willpower was used. It was only in time that I found myself moving closer and closer to him.
“You’re not playing fair,” I said.
“Hey, I’m only participating in what you started. You can’t play with fire, little one.”
