Page 142 of You've Got Hate Mail
“No?” She tilts her pelvis and tightens her leg muscles, rubbing my hard-on through our clothes. “If I were a guy, and if I had this kind of boner, I’d be ripping your clothes off instead of talking.”
“Maybe I always have a boner like this.”
She smiles brighter, and just fuck me.
She’s gorgeous.
Those eyes—her hair spilled out beneath her—the way she’s lifting her hand to my cheek and brushing her swollen pink lips against mine—I cannot fucking resist her anymore.
I can’t.
“If you don’t want to see a doctor about that, maybe you could just see me,” she murmurs.
Did I say I was gone?
Because I keep getting more gone.
“I don’t like complicated.” I nip at her lower lip.
“Then don’t complicate it.”
I huff.
She traces my ear while she continues to tease my spine, and I swear I get harder.
“This,” she murmurs, rubbing her pussy harder against my cock, “isn’t complicated. It’s base human nature.”
“I want to base human nature you.”
She giggles, and I am the victorious knight who has slain all of the dragons, sword held high, sunlight reflecting off of my armor as I stand atop the tallest mountain in my kingdom.
I have won the fair maiden.
She’s mine.
She’s all mine.
“I dream about you naked,” I whisper into her neck.
“I daydream about you naked,” she whispers back.
“Cricket—”
I suck a hard breath through my nose.
I have condoms.
Grabbed them today. Two in my back pocket.
I have a raging hard-on.
I have a woman who’s peppering soft kisses against my neck as she whispers, “Yes?”
“I haven’t—for a long time—I don’t know—if I—can.”
I cringe to myself.
Doesn’t matter how much practice I’ve had in life doing and saying the hard things.
