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My heart hiccups.
“I’m so sick of jerking myself off in the shower thinking of you, I’m going to watch you play with yourself. Imagine it’s me.” He arches his hips up into his hand. The bulge in his pants is unmistakable. I completely downplayed the situation. I’d be giving myself more props except for the fact that I’m turned on too.
I lower the zipper at my hip and shimmy out of my stiff leather pants.
“Your panties are damp,” he groans, getting restless on the couch. He puts his back against the arm, facing me, so he can get a full-on view.
“Is it that obvious?” I breathe.
He reaches his hand under his waistband and gives himself one long stroke.
I watch as he does it, and more juices flood my panties. Unclasping the back of my halter-top, I pull it off. Johnny’s hips jerk up. “You’re not wearing a bra. Fuck.”
I sit there in my panties, watching Johnny run his hand down the length of his cock in the inside of his pants, biting my lower lip. “Can I see you?”
He fumbles with his zipper only because he’s trying to take it down quickly. He shoves his pants and boxers down and his cock springs free. I hook my thumbs around my panties and move them over my knees, shucking them to the side.
“Spread those knees, baby,” Johnny orders. “Pretend it’s me.”
I do as he says, giving him ample view as I reach my hand to my clit, swirling the pad of my finger there. I buck, biting down on my lip.
“No, no,” he says. “Let out those beautiful sounds. I want to hear everything.”
I do as he asks, releasing my lower lip, watching as he strokes his hard cock in movements that match mine.
“Pretend I’m licking that slick pussy.”
“Ohh,” I moan, thrusting my hips in the air and swirling over my clit faster. I’ve always needed clitoral stimulation to come. It’s just my body, and from personal exploration, I know it won’t take too long to throw myself overboard by concentrating here. “I want you,” I tell him, locking eyes briefly before I return to watching him pleasure himself. His movements become more hurried too. “Fuck, Johnny.”
“Do I feel good?” he asks, eyes laser focused on my wet folds.
My toes curl into the leather. I imagine him forgetting everything and just coming over, entering me bareback. “Yes,” I breathe, throwing my head back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes, it feels good.”
His breathing quickens. I peek at him. I’ve never watched a guy jerk off before and it’s hot as fuck. Especially because it’s Johnny losing all his inhibitions. Letting his guard down for once. Just living in the moment. I’ve no doubt he’s an amazing lover.
I reach with my other hand to tweak my nipple and let out a low cry.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”
I work myself faster. My orgasm is within reach, coming up fast. “Johnny, I’m going to,” I warn him.
“Yes, come on me, baby.”
It hits, and I’m suspended in air for a moment. Johnny’s gaze trained on my fingers makes the heights of my pleasure that much more. I cry out. “Yes!” My fingers still swirl, urging every last wave I have in me to hit. Before mine’s even finished, Johnny opens his mouth. The noises he releases are so fucking hot that my core still throbs. Rivulets of cum squirt onto his shirt.
We stare at one another. I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do with Johnny Rocket, but he’s imprinted on me now. If I lose him, whether it’s to him being a terrible guy or to me being a terrible person, I’ll be heartbroken.
31
It’s Johnny who remembers I wanted to discuss something with him. So later that night, I tell him everything we saw. Then, I back it up with the pictures and the audio of us in the car. I tell him all of us were trying to help the Crew until I think he officially feels like shit for punching Oscar. Okay, maybe only a little like shit. He’s definitely not going to be knocking Oscar’s door down to apologize but it’s a start.
I keep Oscar’s mom out of it because I can’t tell him we were at the costume party, but I do tell him we were so concerned that they were fucking over the Crew that Oscar broke into Dunnegan’s office to steal some files because of his loyalty to Johnny, not to Dunnegan.
“Who has the files now?”
“Oscar,” I tell him. “I think. Unless he gave them to Magnum.”
I watch him carefully, and it’s apparent he knows nothing about what’s going down at Candy’s. He can barely stomach when I tell him that the girl—without using her name—was obviously drugged up.