Cam

TAYLOR

Taking a deep breath, I said, “So,
um. I guess I’m going to kiss you.”

He shook his head. “No, red, I’m
gonna kiss you.”

I wasn’t sure what the difference
was, but it sounded really hot when it came out of his mouth.

“Okay,” I whispered.

He leaned down because he was that
much taller, his nose brushing against my hair. I felt the heat of his breath against
my neck. “You didn’t ask me where I was going to kiss you.”

I licked my lips again. Was it hot
in here? His scent was dark, like leather and spice and a tang of sweat.

“Oh, um, we can do it right here.”

He shook his head slowly. “I meant
on your body. If I’m gonna get my mouth on you, it’s gonna be your pussy.”

I moaned.

I did.

That was me.

My eyes fell closed and–holy shit.

“That way I get your panties. You
want to get bingo, don’t you?”

“B… b-ingo?”

“Or just an O?”

I felt like I was going to topple
over so I grabbed his forearms. They felt like they were carved from hot
granite.

“You want that?” he asked.

Did I want an O from Mr. Hottie?

He lifted his head so our gazes
held again.

I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t
know his name. What his favorite color was. If he liked gel or mint toothpaste.
All I knew without a shadow of a doubt was that he could DEFINITELY give me an
O with his mouth. On my pussy.

My vagina clenched, the closest
thing to a cheer it could give. Along with soaking my panties. That he was
going to keep.

What other options did I have?
Right, continue to be the designated driver for my drunk friends. Go home to
who-the-hell-knew-what with my Dad. Maybe he’d be passed out. Maybe he’d want
me to cook him a grilled cheese. Maybe I’d find more broken dish pieces. 

None of that… heck, nothing sounded
as good as an orgasm from Mr. Hottie.

There was only one answer.

“Yes.”