Page 24

Fourteen
Patrick
“Hello—earth to Patrick?”
I look up to see Cari standing in front of me. As soon as she has my attention, she smiles. “Which one?” she says, jiggling the pair of hangers she’s holding, one in each hand.
I look past them, at her. She’s wearing her white silk robe and nothing underneath. Her nipples push against the pale, thin fabric and it hangs open just a bit, giving me a hint of soft, curving breast. I know that if I let my gaze dip just a bit lower, I’ll catch a glimpse of her firm, tanned thighs. The dark, shadowy cleft between them.
“The black one,” I say because I know it’s her favorite, forcing my eyes to retrain themselves on the baseball game I’m pretending to watch. I love baseball—loved it since I was a kid. I haven’t known Cari for half as long but right now, with her standing half-naked in front of me, it’s no contest.
“Yeah?” She aims a slim, arched brow at the dress I chose. “You think it’s fifth-date worthy?”
The dress in question is little more than a black lace tube that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs with straps so thin you have to squint just to see them. It’s what she was wearing when I suggested she move in with me. Every time I see her in it all I can think about is helping her take it off.
“Yeah.” I shrug like I don’t care. “It looks good on you.”
A slow smile spreads across her perfect face, lifting the corners of her full, lush mouth. “You think so?”
I shrug again. “Sure.” I keep my eyes glued to the flat screen. All I can think about is what’s going on under her robe while she’s got me so deep in the friend-zone I’m helping her pick out dresses for her date with her douche de jour... what was his name? Tim? Travis? It didn’t matter. It was their fifth date and I know what that means.
Someone’s getting fucked tonight. It just isn’t going to be me.
Choice made, she retreats to her room to finish getting ready. A few seconds later, old-school Madonna—Lucky Star—floats through the open door. She always listens to Madonna when she’s getting ready for a date.
As soon as the music clicks on, I shift my gaze to the full-length mirror that hangs on the wall, to the right of the flat screen. From where I sit, I have a perfect view of Cari’s bedroom... and she never closed her door.
I watch while she hooks the hanger of the dress she’s decided against over the back of her closet door before tossing the other one on the bed.
The black one. The one I chose.
She unties her robe and I watch it slink down her arms to pool at her bare feet. She’s suddenly naked. Her breasts, full and firm, sway gently as she gathers up her long, caramel-colored hair and winds it into a loose bun at her nape. If she looks up or catches my reflection in the mirror, she’ll know I’m watching her. Catch me perving out but I can’t stop staring. For a second, I can almost taste her. Feel the hard bud of her nipple against my tongue.
All I can see is the smooth curve of her ass under my hands as I lift her hips to meet mine, her legs spread wide while the thick, blunt head of my cock rubs against the soft, wet folds of her pussy. Teasing her until she moans before driving into her in deft stroke, fast and hard...
She’s going to catch me but I can’t look away. My cock is throbbing, pushing against the unforgiving fabric of my shorts. There’s no hiding it. If she looks now she’ll see.
She’ll see that maybe I’m not such a nice guy after all.
Con was right. Asking Cari to move in was a mistake.
“Fuck you, Conner,” I say under my breath, standing to limp my way into our tiny kitchen. Across the hall, I can see directly into Cari’s room—no mirror required. Instead of letching, I turn my back on what’s going on and reach into the fridge to pull out a beer. Twisting off the cap, I plink it into the trash before taking a long, hard swallow while I contemplate dumping the contents of the ice cube tray down the front of my pants.
Like it would help.
I take another, longer pull from the beer in my hand and drain it before tossing the empty in the trash.
Looks like another Friday night filled with MLB and masturbation.
It doesn’t have to be that way, you know. Text Sara, she’d be over here, panties in hand, before you even hit send.
Thinking about Sara makes me feel guilty. After she gave me her number that night, I didn’t call but she was more persistent than I gave her credit for. She showed up at Gilroy’s night after night until I finally asked her out, out of some weird sense of obligation. We ended up dating for a few weeks before I broke it off. She was nice girl and deserved better than me fucking her while I’m thinking about Cari.
Yeah? She made it pretty clear she isn’t interested in better. She’s interested in you.
“Hey, bring me one,” Cari says, pushing all thoughts of Sara out of my head. Just the sound of her voice, soft and husky, is enough to make my cock twitch.
“Comin’ up,” I say, jerking the fridge open to grab two more beers, twisting the caps off before turning around. She’s just shimmying into the dress, black lace and silk, sliding up long, lean thighs. I catch a glimpse of more lace. Cherry red this time, a thin strip of it strung between the cheeks of her tight, round ass. I can’t imagine the one covering her pussy is much bigger. My cock isn’t just twitching, it’s throbbing and straining against the front of my cargos. There’s no hiding the raging hard-on I’ve got going.