“What?”
I put up a finger signaling to give me a minute, then disappear to spit and rinse before returning to stand in the doorframe. “We can’t get a dog.”
She looks up from the Pierce Industries Employee Handbook she’s been perusing all morning while I get ready for work. “Why not?”
There are a thousand reasons, but they’re not so easy to remember when I’m in the same room with her. Especially when all she’s wearing is one of the sleeveless shirts I use to work out in. We’ve been together four months now, and she still makes my pulse race every time I look at her.
“Why not?” she asks again.
“You live in an apartment building.” We both live here, but she reminds me daily that it’s her name on the lease. Stubborn as she is about being independent, she refused my invitation to move in with me at the loft and got her own place in Hell’s Kitchen. Yeah, not my first choice, either, but it’s roomy and within walking distance to the office.
It only took a week to realize that we might as well have gotten a place together. We agreed to wait until after the New Year for me to officially move in, mostly to make her father happy, but before that I only spent a handful of nights at the loft.
Now I’m here full-time, and spoiler: she’s not getting rid of me.
“Thousands of people live in apartment buildings and still have dogs,” she says now. We’ve been over this already. Nothing she’s saying is new.
Nothing I’m saying is new either. “We work all day.”
“We’ll hire a dog walker.”
“A cat would be easier.” I’m not even a fan of cats. Just…are we ready for a dog?
“A cat is not the same as a dog. You said you were a dog person.” She narrows her eyes in my direction. “I feel like I might have been duped.”
“I am a dog person. I love dogs. I also love kids. It doesn’t mean I want one of either now.”
She tosses the handbook on the nightstand and stretches out on the bed. “Yes, you do. I know you do. Imagine it. A furry buddy sleeping at your feet. You could train it to bring you your slippers when you get home.”
In her new position, the light blue edge of her panties peeks out from under her shirt. “You’re too adorable.” So adorable that my boxers are about to tent. I rub my semi through my underwear. “Lift up your shirt—I want to see your tits.”
“Will that get me a dog?”
“Possibly.” Probably. After all, my new mission statement is Make Genny Happy. Best job I’ve ever had.
She sits up, lifting the tank slowly to expose her firm, round breasts. Her nipples are pink and peaked and my mouth waters from the sight of them. After a bit of teasing, she pulls the shirt off all the way and throws it to the ground.
I let out a sigh. My life is pretty goddamn awesome; I’m not going to deny it.
“You’re so fucking hot.” I stroke myself, hardening completely. “Move your panties to the side. I need to see your pussy now.”
She leans back against the headboard and, with two fingers, pulls aside the crotch of her panties to reveal the lips of her pussy. Jesus, she looks just like a Playboy pinup.
Guess what. It gets better. Because next she takes her panties off altogether. “If losing my shirt gets me a dog, what will losing my panties get me?”
It will get her finger-fucked, that’s what it will get her. She already looks wet, and I can’t help myself—I have to feel. I head over to the bed and stick two fingers inside her. Damn, she’s soaked. I rub in and out of her a couple of times before pulling away.
“Done with me already?”
“I have to get ready for work,” I say, licking my fingers. “And you’re such a naughty distraction.”
With her eyes locked on mine, she puts her own fingers inside herself. “You mean, I have to take care of myself?”
She’s so fucking coy I want to either spank her or eat her. Maybe both.
I glance at my watch. I guess I have a few minutes to spare. And I do have that new mission statement to live up to.
With my boxers pulled down just far enough to release my erection, I sit on the bed next to her and bring out what she calls my bossy tone. “Climb up on my cock. I’m going to make you come.”
I should mention that she loves my bossy tone.
She’s scrambling over me in a matter of seconds, positioning my cock at her entrance before sliding down.
And oh my god, I practically forget my name. Forget everything but how tight and wet and luscious she is. She feels so good I have to take a few deep breaths to stop from coming right away.
I love it when that happens—when I have to struggle a little to get control. It’s like racing my car around a series of tight curves. The challenge is what makes the ride so fun.
When I have myself in check, that's when I push on the gas. “Faster, baby.” I spank the outside of her upper thigh.
She speeds up, her muscles tensing and her tits bouncing as she works herself up and down on my cock. “Just like that, Genny.”
It’s better than the goddamned Indie 500.
I run my hands along her hips, itching to take the wheel, but just as eager to see where she’ll take us on her own.
Or, rather, with my guidance.
“Touch yourself,” I command now. Like a good girl, she brings her index finger to her mouth and licks it before bringing it down to massage her clit.
“Like this?”
“Just like that, baby. Feel how hard that makes me?”
“Yes,” she pants. “Yes. You’re so hard. Fuck. I’m going to come.”