“Just about,” I said, taking her offer and kissing her throat all over, inch by inch. “No pegging, no threesomes—those’re my only rules.”
She exhaled softly. “Myles, stop, stop.”
I pulled away. “What?”
She stood up. Paced away, head down, hair falling over her face. “You’re seducing me and I need food. You keep kissing me like that and I’m gonna end up riding your face, and then I’ll end up riding your cock again, and I’ll get messy and need another shower, and you’re still sticky.” She picked up both towels, which she’d discarded on the floor.
I laughed. “You say all that like it’s a bad thing.”
She headed for the bedroom. “We had sex last night, this morning, and I just gave you a handjob. It’s time for breakfast. I need my energy so I can keep up with you.”
I snickered. “So you can keep up with me? Babe, you woke me up for sex last night. If anyone has to keep up with anyone, it’s me with you.”
She pivoted to stare at me. “I think it’s a mutual thing. We both have out of control libidos. My point is, I’m fucking hungry.”
And avoiding something, I thought, but didn’t say. “You had a condition, but you never said what it was.”
She shrugged again, moving into the bedroom. “Nothing. Never mind.”
I followed her. She rummaged through a drawer, pawing through a loose pile of thongs and lacy underwear in every style imaginable—not one pair of plain white briefs to be seen. She snagged a purple thong and stepped into it—when she was pulling it up with a sultry wiggle of her curvy hips, I pulled her back against me. “Lex.”
She writhed away. “Ew, you’re getting me sticky!”
I laughed, but kept my sticky belly away from her, leaning over her shoulder with my upper torso, arms pinning hers to her sides. Kissed her neck. “Don’t use the never mind cop-out with me, Lexie Goode. Say what you were gonna say.”
“It was silly, Myles, I was being silly. You really want a handjob every day?”
I growled. “I want you every day. All of you. Every part of you. There is not a single moment of the day that I don’t want you, however I can get you. Hands, mouth, pussy, ass, tits, I want your body.” I nipped her skin over the ridge of her shoulder. “I want your mind, your soul, your heart. Your talent. Your wicked, vicious, crazy tongue.” She wiggled, wanting to get away, but I didn’t let her. “You, Lex.”
She fought my hold. “Okay, I get it.”
Not the reaction I was expecting. I let her go. “What’s wrong? I’m confused.”
She stepped away from me. “Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t like being held like that, so I can’t get away. Please don’t do it again.”
I watched her closely—her body language spoke of something buried way deep, even as she made it sound like a simple preference, something she just didn’t care for. I guess I’d been aware and had gotten hints of this for a while now, but this was the first time she had ever said anything. “Lex. Be real for me, yeah?”
She spun around, glaring up at me. “What, Myles? What do you want from me?”
“I’m not sure how we got here, honestly. We were talking about handjobs and now you’re acting like…” I wasn’t sure how she was acting, which meant I wasn’t sure how to finish that statement.
She clearly didn’t like whatever implication she heard in that ellipsis, however. “Like what, Myles? How am I acting? Like I don’t appreciate being restrained?”
I felt this building into a blowup, and figured I’d take the easy, if cowardly way out. “I’m sorry, Lex. I won’t do that again.” I knew I’d just let her avoid something much deeper, but had no clue what or how to unearth it from beneath the miles of wall and layers of defenses I’d just witnessed. “I’m gonna shower.”
I went into the bathroom and took a shower, taking my time.
When I got out, Lexie was dressed in a minuscule denim skirt with an aged, frayed hem, so short and so tight the bottom curve of her ass cheeks slid out from under the hem when she moved, revealing occasional glimpses of the lacy purple of her thong. Above the skirt, a white button-down shirt was tied up underneath her breasts, all the buttons open to leave her breasts spilling out—only somewhat shielded from being completely exposed by a gauzy, lacy, sort-of-translucent but not quite opaque…camisole, I think it was called. The camisole did nothing to support or constrain, and only served to highlight the size and natural movement of her cleavage with every step.
Her hair was swept to the left, messy and artfully tangled. No makeup except a hint of shiny pale pink stuff on her lips. Oh my—and some sparkles all over her cleavage.
“Fuckin’ hell, Lex.”
She smiled at me brightly. “You like?”
“The skirt, the cleavage, or the titty sparkles?”
She shook her chest at me. “You noticed, huh?”
“You realize I’m going to try to lick that off, later?”
This made her frown. “I wonder if they make edible titty glitter?”
I laughed. “If they do, I volunteer to try it.”
“Feed me, then we can discuss the logistics of edible titty glitter.”
And it was as if nothing had happened.
But down in the pit of my stomach, something was unsettled. I’d gotten a glimpse of something dark in her evasiveness and fight picking. The girl had secrets.
I already knew about her affair with the professor, and her subsequent expulsion from the university, revocation of her scholarship, and the abortion.
Which just begged the question…what else could she be hiding?
Lexie
Myles had really rolled out the red carpet for me, for this trip to Ketchikan. I’d have been fine with plain old first-class commercial from Dallas to Seattle and a pond-hopper prop plane to Ketchikan. But, no. Not Myles. He wanted to butter me up so I’d make
