Page 47
Story: Arm Candy Warrior
Johnny doesn’t waste any time getting his hands on me. “I’m impressed as hell with you, my sexy Kyla,” he purrs, and then we lose ourselves in a kiss that has rivaled all our other kisses. It’s the proof of two people who desperately want to share their feelings with one another but can’t. It’s a wild coming together due to our connection until an invisible barrier holds us back from the breech.
Basically, all I get is a lady hard-on with no way to release.
19
Johnny treats me like his princess as I ready myself for the celebration at Candy’s. Kudos to him for thinking of it. He just marketed their strip joint to a bunch of rowdy customers ready for a good time. The plan is genius.
As of tonight, there’s a whole cabinet of the shampoo I like in the shower area. There’s also brand-new makeup: foundation, eyeliner, mascara. All that’s missing is an actual closet with all my clothes, but Johnny’s thought of that too. He holds up a skintight purple dress when I step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around myself. I dry my hair as best I can then run the towel over my body before dropping it to the floor. Johnny stares, gaze dropping until my nipples peak. Listen, if he’s going to rev me up, he has to deal with the consequences, too.
He hands the dress to me, taking up a spot in the corner where he watches me shimmy into it pulling it over my hips and then pushing my arms through before making sure everything is in place. The fight didn’t last long enough to get battered. My face is fine. My knuckles hurt a little, just as they do after every fight. Other than that, my forearms are a little sore from blocking her punches, but all-in-all, probably one of the better fights I’ve walked away from.
Johnny walks up behind me, wrapping his arm around my midsection, his other hand drifting up my thigh. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk away from you tonight.” His hand breeches the hem of my dress. A muscle jumps in my upper thigh as he gets closer.
I push my ass back into his hips, and he moves his other hand up to grip my breast. The dress is so tight, I can’t use undergarments. I wet my lips and bite down to keep from uttering something embarrassing. I turn toward the mirror that’s just over the sink and lock gazes with him. “Should I be pushing you away?”
He moans, dropping his head to my shoulder and playfully biting me there. It turns me on more than it should. “Yes,” he croaks out. “You should definitely be shoving me away.”
He steps back, giving me space. Perfect timing, too, because the door to the room opens. Johnny whirls to tell the person off, but it’s Oscar who strides in. “Your father needs to see you.”
I try to calm my beating heart. “Your father was here?”
Johnny straightens his shirt and rearranges himself. “He wanted to watch you fight again.”
Yeah, sure. I bet that’s all it is. I share a look with Oscar that I’m sure says exactly what I’m thinking. If Johnny hasn’t seen it yet, he will soon. Then again, he probably already knows that his father is checking on his assets, and it doesn’t make a bit of difference to him.
“Watch her?” Johnny asks Oscar. “I’ll be back in fifteen.”
Johnny cups my ass before leaving the room. As soon as he exits, Oscar locks the door behind him.
I glance at the lock. “What are you doing?”
“Protecting you.”
He moves forward, and I turn to face him. He studies my burning cheeks. “You’re flushed.”
I could tell him it was from the fight, but I’d be lying.
“I watched you from the box, hiding a stiff one the whole time. Then again, I don’t think I was the only man doing that.”
He hooks his hands under my legs and lifts me until I’m sitting on the sink. He rolls the fabric of my dress back and pushes my knees apart. He trails a hand up my thigh, and my heart starts to pound.
“Let’s see how much Johnny got you riled up.” His fingers pass over my slit, and I tremble. “Damn,” he says, jaw hardening as his hands find me slick with my own desire. “Just for that, I’m going to make you cream for me.” He plays with my slit and then pushes a finger inside.
I grip his shoulders. “Is this smart?”
“Is any of this smart?” he asks, pumping his fingers in and out of me at a steady pace. I pull him forward to kiss me, and he groans. His thumb passes over my clit, and then he pulls me closer to the edge of the sink to get a better angle. I gasp into his mouth and then bite his lip playfully. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” he asks, lips still against mine as he forms the words. “Too fucking many. I drive myself crazy.”
“Mmm,” I murmur into his lips. He’s pulled taut with need, but his movements are still at expert status. He knows exactly where to touch me to get me off quickly, and it’s working. “Fuck. Oscar.”
“You won for me, didn’t you?”
I nod. “Did you notice my outfit? I tried to get it as close to a cheerleader’s uniform as I could.” The bra cut was triangular in shape, thick bands for my straps and around my back. The closest I could find to make Oscar’s dream come true. The little booty shorts are what I imagine cheerleaders wear underneath their skirts, too, though I don’t have any personal experience of that myself.
“Aw, fuck, Princess.” He keeps his movements steady, still concentrating on my clit, pressing circles there with the pad of his thumb until I’m gripping him so tight, I’m sure it must hurt. I straighten my fingers to keep from hurting him and then reach down, cupping his cock. It jerks in my hold. “Fuck.” He pulls just far enough away to look at me. There’s something there that yanks me over the edge, sending me into a spiral of the richest pleasure. Oscar holds me until I come down, but the look on his face when I touched him still lingers between us. Why did he look shocked?
Slowly, he removes his finger, and then pulls me off the edge of the sink. I slide down his body until my tiptoes hit the cement floor. “You should get ready. We don’t want Johnny wondering what we’ve been doing in here if you’re not farther along than you were when he left.” He kisses my forehead and then reaches around me to wash his hands. He pulls out a few paper towels from the dispenser and frowns back at me. “This isn’t going to be soft.” He wets them, the towels turning a dark brown before he carefully runs them over the area he just played with until I came apart.
I watch him while he does this, awestruck by his compassion for me after the fact. When he finishes passing a dry paper towel between my legs, he looks up. “You should be getting ready.”
Basically, all I get is a lady hard-on with no way to release.
19
Johnny treats me like his princess as I ready myself for the celebration at Candy’s. Kudos to him for thinking of it. He just marketed their strip joint to a bunch of rowdy customers ready for a good time. The plan is genius.
As of tonight, there’s a whole cabinet of the shampoo I like in the shower area. There’s also brand-new makeup: foundation, eyeliner, mascara. All that’s missing is an actual closet with all my clothes, but Johnny’s thought of that too. He holds up a skintight purple dress when I step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around myself. I dry my hair as best I can then run the towel over my body before dropping it to the floor. Johnny stares, gaze dropping until my nipples peak. Listen, if he’s going to rev me up, he has to deal with the consequences, too.
He hands the dress to me, taking up a spot in the corner where he watches me shimmy into it pulling it over my hips and then pushing my arms through before making sure everything is in place. The fight didn’t last long enough to get battered. My face is fine. My knuckles hurt a little, just as they do after every fight. Other than that, my forearms are a little sore from blocking her punches, but all-in-all, probably one of the better fights I’ve walked away from.
Johnny walks up behind me, wrapping his arm around my midsection, his other hand drifting up my thigh. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk away from you tonight.” His hand breeches the hem of my dress. A muscle jumps in my upper thigh as he gets closer.
I push my ass back into his hips, and he moves his other hand up to grip my breast. The dress is so tight, I can’t use undergarments. I wet my lips and bite down to keep from uttering something embarrassing. I turn toward the mirror that’s just over the sink and lock gazes with him. “Should I be pushing you away?”
He moans, dropping his head to my shoulder and playfully biting me there. It turns me on more than it should. “Yes,” he croaks out. “You should definitely be shoving me away.”
He steps back, giving me space. Perfect timing, too, because the door to the room opens. Johnny whirls to tell the person off, but it’s Oscar who strides in. “Your father needs to see you.”
I try to calm my beating heart. “Your father was here?”
Johnny straightens his shirt and rearranges himself. “He wanted to watch you fight again.”
Yeah, sure. I bet that’s all it is. I share a look with Oscar that I’m sure says exactly what I’m thinking. If Johnny hasn’t seen it yet, he will soon. Then again, he probably already knows that his father is checking on his assets, and it doesn’t make a bit of difference to him.
“Watch her?” Johnny asks Oscar. “I’ll be back in fifteen.”
Johnny cups my ass before leaving the room. As soon as he exits, Oscar locks the door behind him.
I glance at the lock. “What are you doing?”
“Protecting you.”
He moves forward, and I turn to face him. He studies my burning cheeks. “You’re flushed.”
I could tell him it was from the fight, but I’d be lying.
“I watched you from the box, hiding a stiff one the whole time. Then again, I don’t think I was the only man doing that.”
He hooks his hands under my legs and lifts me until I’m sitting on the sink. He rolls the fabric of my dress back and pushes my knees apart. He trails a hand up my thigh, and my heart starts to pound.
“Let’s see how much Johnny got you riled up.” His fingers pass over my slit, and I tremble. “Damn,” he says, jaw hardening as his hands find me slick with my own desire. “Just for that, I’m going to make you cream for me.” He plays with my slit and then pushes a finger inside.
I grip his shoulders. “Is this smart?”
“Is any of this smart?” he asks, pumping his fingers in and out of me at a steady pace. I pull him forward to kiss me, and he groans. His thumb passes over my clit, and then he pulls me closer to the edge of the sink to get a better angle. I gasp into his mouth and then bite his lip playfully. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” he asks, lips still against mine as he forms the words. “Too fucking many. I drive myself crazy.”
“Mmm,” I murmur into his lips. He’s pulled taut with need, but his movements are still at expert status. He knows exactly where to touch me to get me off quickly, and it’s working. “Fuck. Oscar.”
“You won for me, didn’t you?”
I nod. “Did you notice my outfit? I tried to get it as close to a cheerleader’s uniform as I could.” The bra cut was triangular in shape, thick bands for my straps and around my back. The closest I could find to make Oscar’s dream come true. The little booty shorts are what I imagine cheerleaders wear underneath their skirts, too, though I don’t have any personal experience of that myself.
“Aw, fuck, Princess.” He keeps his movements steady, still concentrating on my clit, pressing circles there with the pad of his thumb until I’m gripping him so tight, I’m sure it must hurt. I straighten my fingers to keep from hurting him and then reach down, cupping his cock. It jerks in my hold. “Fuck.” He pulls just far enough away to look at me. There’s something there that yanks me over the edge, sending me into a spiral of the richest pleasure. Oscar holds me until I come down, but the look on his face when I touched him still lingers between us. Why did he look shocked?
Slowly, he removes his finger, and then pulls me off the edge of the sink. I slide down his body until my tiptoes hit the cement floor. “You should get ready. We don’t want Johnny wondering what we’ve been doing in here if you’re not farther along than you were when he left.” He kisses my forehead and then reaches around me to wash his hands. He pulls out a few paper towels from the dispenser and frowns back at me. “This isn’t going to be soft.” He wets them, the towels turning a dark brown before he carefully runs them over the area he just played with until I came apart.
I watch him while he does this, awestruck by his compassion for me after the fact. When he finishes passing a dry paper towel between my legs, he looks up. “You should be getting ready.”
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