Page 576 of Summer Heat
I feel my cheeks pinking, but I can’t seem to pull my gaze away. A hum of warm pleasure begins in my core and I feel my whole body waking up as if I’ve never really been awake before this moment. It’s unsettling. But not in a bad way.
Definitely not a bad way.
Seriously, I need to stop looking at it. He’s my boss. And my landlord. I need to look away.
Anytime now.
Every second that ticks by is another second too long, another second I’m gaping at him like I’ve never seen a human penis before.
Which is ridiculous for a woman my age. Of course I’ve seen one.
Well, I’ve seen porn. And also that one guy in person who hadn’t been nearly as hung as Jason. Or whatever the term is for a giant cock now standing upright and all but saluting me.
The unexpected penis-sighting that other time had been an accident, too. The real-life penis guy, not the porn. I watched the porn on purpose to see what I was missing. Clearly though, my porn research had been a wholly inadequate means of measurement.
Because wow.
My heart starts to thunder then, and my brain begins cataloging every millisecond of time passing by. The longer he lets me stand here and look my fill, the more I find myself wondering other things. Things so far past improper, I can’t even think of the right adjective.
Erotic images beyond anything I’d ever imagined before start swamping my senses, and my brain is suddenly under siege with more illicit questions. Would it feel hot to the touch against my lips? My tongue? How would he react if I reached for him right now? Would he be all cool and collected like he usually is or could I actually break him of his renowned control?
Do I want him out of control?
I feel my panties growing damp as the answer to that last question heats me from the inside out, rushing my veins like a drug.
Soon, his abs are tensing and his forearms are flexing in a way that tells me he’s guessing what kinds of inappropriate questions are running through my head. And as if in approval of all these dirty thoughts that I can’t seem to rein in, his thick cock pulses, just once.
Causing a sound I’ve never made before to slip past my lips and splinter the steam-filled silence in the room.
4
| JASON |
MONDAY
(Time: Who the hell knows.)
She fucking moaned.
After spending a good minute staring at me like I’m some sort of god with blinding rays of sunlight shooting out of my dick…or like I’m an altar and she’s ready to get on her knees and pray.
Oh, hell, that last visual now has me so hard, it’s taking everything in me to keep precum from leaking out of me. Clenching my teeth, I squeeze my fists tighter to keep from touching her.
She should’ve left.
There’s just no coming back from this. I mean I’ve never cared much about women visually measuring my package before. Figured they’re probably entitled, what with most men thinking about the shape and size of their tits and ass probably more than the color of their eyes or anything less offensive.
But it’s different when it’s Summer doing the staring. It’s kind of cute, in an innocently candid way. But it’s definitely not okay.
How the hell do I tell her to stop staring at my dick? It doesn’t feel like the kind of thing I should have to tell another adult human being.
For a woman nearing thirty, she’s oddly unaware of propriety and how she shouldn’t be alone in my house with me while I’m hard and naked. I’m not a prude, but isn’t there some part of her whispering that this is dangerous? She doesn’t know me that well, shouldn’t she be on guard against the possibility of my taking advantage of her?
Not that I would; I just assumed women came stock with that warning bell ringing any time it could be an issue.
It dawns on me then that I’m worried about her. She’s sweet. Naïve.
And she’s still staring.
