The Lineup Page 25

“Oddly, I do.”

  “Which is why”—he reaches behind my seat and lifts up a duffel bag—“I brought an overnight bag.”

  “You’re spending the night?”

  “Yup. I’m going to go upstairs to your place, brush my teeth, and then stick my tongue down your throat. Pizza for dinner?”

  “Uh,” I laugh, “sure.”

  He fist-pumps. “Pizza and making out. Best night ever.”

  I could think of other reasons why it’s turning out to be not only the best night ever, but the best day ever, and they all start with the energetic man next to me.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  JASON

  Pizza and making out, wow, what a great night, right?

  Wrong.

  I was so wrong.

  When we got to Dottie’s apartment, she gave me a quick tour, let me set my bag down in her bedroom, and then she ordered some pizza while I brushed my teeth. I’ve avoided kissing her ever since I became acquainted with my new friend, trash can number 34298. I know this because this was the number I read over and over again when my head was stuffed inside.

  I planned on making up for lost kissing time. Which is what we did while waiting for the pizza.

  It started off casual, you know what I’m talking about. An innocent touch here, a purposeful caress there. She scooted onto my lap, sitting sideways, and we made out. It was sweet and innocent, nothing that spoke SEX SEX SEX in bright neon letters. And we kept our hands out of the private zones. It was perfect.

  Pizza arrived. We ate. We talked. We laughed. It was a great dinner and then we decided on a movie to watch. She wanted action, I wanted romance—naturally—so we settled on True Lies, which is a little of both. Before the movie started, we both decided to change into our jam-jams and that was the turning point of our night.

  I came out in a respectable pair of flannel pants and a plain white T-shirt. Yes, the shirt is purposefully tight just as a subtle reminder of what I have to offer.

  Guess who didn’t get the subtle memo? Our resident hottie . . . Dottie.

  She strutted into the living room wearing another one of those godforsaken nightgowns—not that I’m really complaining, but I kind of am, because how the hell am I supposed to pay attention to the intricate plot of True Lies with Boobsy McGee sitting next to me with no bra on, acting as if everything is just casual, like I don’t want to stick my penis in her cleavage?

  Because I do. I want to dipstick her tits so bad it’s all my mind can think about—dip, dip, dip, DIP—I can’t think of anything else other than whipping my proud penis out of its confines and testing out the warmth of her boobs.

  Oh, and don’t you even think for a second that she chose her nighttime wear without thought. There was a lot of thought put into her choice. There was malicious thought, because I’m going to let you in on a little secret. When we were making out, I told her I didn’t want to take it any further tonight than just kissing and I saw it, the look of disappointment cross her face right before it turned to calculating.

  She avoided getting handsy and only using her mouth before pizza arrived but now that it’s movie time, she threw down the gauntlet with that little number she’s wearing.

  Hell, I’m pretty sure I can see the outline of her nipples.

  But what she didn’t take into account is, even though I’m suffering inside, I have more willpower than it might seem. She might be taunting me with her spaghetti strap, silky nightgown that hits just above her thighs, but guess what, lady? I’ve had to pee on my hands many times to make them tough for catching, and letting pee sit on your hands for an obscene amount of time takes more willpower than one can imagine. And side note: peeing on your hands is an old catcher’s trick; it’s disgusting, but it works to toughen up the hands.

  Despite currently living in a fiery hell of denying myself sweet release, I’m outwardly as casual as one can get. Hand draped over this girl’s leg, one arm spanning along the back of the couch, slightly slouched, but still able to have a good view of the television. I’m acting like I’m watching the movie, perfectly content with where I am, but from the corner of my eye, I’m watching Dottie like a hawk. The small shifts that make her boobs pop, the tiny touches that graze my inner thigh . . . every move is full of intent.

  She wants me.

  But it’s not going to happen. I’m holding strong. I will court this woman the right way, damn it.

  “Love this scene,” I say, my voice sounding surprisingly normal despite how tense and tight my balls feel right now.

  “Jamie Lee Curtis was made for this movie. She does such a good job.”

  “Couldn’t agree more.”

  Dottie shifts on the couch and leans into my body, her legs tucked under her, curling in the opposite direction than me. Her hand falls to my chest and her head rests on my shoulder. “That’s better. More comfortable.”

  Yeah, maybe for you.

  But I take advantage of the position and drape my arm over her, drawing lazy circles on her exposed clavicle.

  “Do you think you could ever be in the secret service?” she asks, her finger casually working its way up and down my chest.

  “No. I’m too much of a pussy,” I answer honestly, hoping it deters her in her pursuit to touch me.

  It doesn’t.

  “I could see you doing it. You’re a protector.”

  “Yeah, when I’m put in a position I need to be. I will defend anyone in my life to the day I die, but that doesn’t mean I want that as a job.”

  “True, but maybe an action hero.” She pushes up so she can look down at me. “You have the body for it.” She reaches down and pulls up the hem of my shirt. “You sure have the abs for it.”

  The cold air hits my stomach, causing my muscles to twitch.

  “I’ll be honest, I’ve never dated anyone with the kind of body you have.” Her hand drags my shirt up higher until my stomach and chest is exposed. “How many hours do you spend in the gym?”

  “Enough,” I say on a gulp. With a wicked smile and an exploratory finger, she circles my nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my groin. “Dottie,” I warn.

  “Just exploring.”

  “Exploring can get you in trouble.”

  “What if I want trouble?” she asks, moving her hand down my stomach to the waistband of my flannel pants where she slips her hand underneath. Because I’m an idiot, I’m not wearing briefs. Therefore, her hand connects directly with my cock, her palm rubbing over the soft skin for a brief moment, feeling how I’m instantly hard in her hand.

  “Dottie, come on, babe, I’m trying here.”

  “Trying what? To torture both of us?” she asks, moving her hand down to my balls where she massages them as well, and holy fuck does it feel good.

  Really fucking good.

  So good that a hiss escapes my lips as my head falls to the back of the couch.

  “I want to court you, do it right.”

  “And I want to feel your dick inside me. Which do you think will bring us more pleasure?”

  Valid point.

  But still . . .

  I reach down and take her hand out of my pants, my penis hating me. I look her in the eyes and say, “You deserve more.”

  “I deserve you,” she says, her words so full of hidden meaning that I can feel her desperation in those three little words. “This isn’t just fucking to me, Jason. This, us, it means something to me. I know it’s been quick between us, but I feel something for you. I think I’ve felt it since college, since the first time I saw you. I don’t want to wait. I want to enjoy you . . . us.”

  “I want that too,” I say, cupping her cheek. “But I’m serious about this. I want our first time to be special and worth the wait.”

  Her face falls, the smile disappearing, the spark in her eyes evaporating as she turtles in on herself and nods. I’ve never seen her like this before. Vulnerable and disappointed, waving her white flag and letting someone else get their way.

  I’
ll be honest, I don’t like it.

  Do you know what else I don’t like? Dottie pulling away. Dottie not snuggling into my chest. Dottie staying silent during the movie. Dottie mentally removing herself from the night. I can’t have that, nor do I want it.

  And there seems to be only one way to take care of it.

  “Fuck it,” I say, standing from the couch and pulling my shirt off.

  Dottie’s eyes widen right before I pick her up from the couch and toss her over my shoulder.

  “Jason,” she says, concerned. “What are you doing?”

  I don’t answer her.

  I don’t speak a damn word.

  I walk to her bedroom, shut the door, and then set her on the bed where I observe her. Excitement erupts in her eyes.

  She’s about to understand what it’s like to be with Jason Orson.

  “Take your tits out of your nightgown.” She reaches for the hem, but I bark, “No. Leave it on. Just take your tits out.” Her eyes widen . . . probably from my tone of voice. When it comes to the bedroom, I don’t fuck around.

  Unsure, she removes her breasts and I take a second to stare at them. When she goes to rub them, I snap at her again. “Don’t fucking touch them. Just let me stare. I want to watch your breathing pick up, see how aroused you get from this.”

  In the silence of her large bedroom, I stare at her and watch every movement she makes. A little intake here, a slight shift there. How her eyes go hazy with lust, how her legs start to slowly part, and that’s when I see it. She’s wearing nothing underneath. The fucking vixen. She knew exactly what she was doing this whole time. I’m about to make sure she never regrets her decision tonight.

  “Reach up with your right hand and play with your nipple. Massage it, pluck at it, pinch it, roll it; do everything and anything that makes you wet for me. Spread your legs wider, because I want to see that pussy glisten.”

  She bites her bottom lip and does as I say, playing with her nipple. There’s something to be said about a powerful woman, one who runs her world every day, breaking down and giving in to the demands of her man in the bedroom. It’s hot how responsive she is, how willing she is to listen. I love everything about it.

  With my thumbs, I snag the waistband of my pants and push them down only to step out of the fabric and toss them to the side with a flick of my toe. Cock jutted out, I grip it with one hand and slowly start to stroke up and down, giving her an eyeful.

  She licks her lips and her hips start to rock as she stares at me.

  “Switch your hands. Make yourself moan. I won’t be touching you until I think you’re fully ready, so give me the goddamn show I deserve.”

  With that, she pulls on the fabric of her nightgown, exposing her lower half completely and then spreads her legs all the way, presenting me with one of the most gorgeous and erotic scenes I’ve ever seen.

  “Pinch your nipple harder, I want to hear you moan.”

  She pinches, and her hips lift as a low moan falls past her precious lips.

  “Again.”

  She pinches. Groans.

  “Again.”

  This time her head falls to the side, her chest heaving.

  “Again.”

  Her other hand roams up her body to her other breast and she applies the same pressure.

  As she continues to work her nipples until she’s dripping wet while small cries fall from her lips, I hold the base of my cock, keeping the pressure tight around the root and then slowly pulling the built-up pressure to the tip of my dick, only to repeat the stroke. Together we touch ourselves to the point that we’re both breathing heavily. Fuck. This is so fucking hot.

  “Are you ready for me, Dottie?”

  “Yes,” she moans, her pelvis rotating, seeking relief.

  “Touch yourself. Let me see how wet you are on your fingers.”

  Without hesitation, she drags her fingers down her body to her pussy. With two fingers, she swipes over her slit and then holds them up to me. I walk over and closely examine them and then, I pull them into my mouth, sucking on the tips, making Dottie’s eyes widen.

  “Get on all fours.”

  “I want to see you when you fuck me.”

  “You will, but on your knees for now.”

  She does as I say, and I take my time to take in her pert ass, how the nightgown fabric barely skims her skin. Normally I like to be completely naked, but the nightgown has now become a part of this.

  I step up behind her and slide my hand over the globe of her ass and then to her lower back, dragging her nightgown with it until it hits her shoulder blades. Circling my hand to the front, I find her breast and cup it, giving it a few squeezes as I line my rock-hard erection along her ass.

  “Do you feel that, Dottie? Do you feel how fucking hard I am? That’s because of you. Whenever you’re around, you do this to me. You entice me, intrigue me, make me so goddamn horny with need. That’s why I’m about to fuck you into this mattress, because I can’t take your teasing any longer. But if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this on my terms.”

  I pinch her nipple and she rears back on a scream.

  “Oh God, Jason.”

  With my free hand, I run my finger along the nub, testing how wet she is.

  She’s soaking, but I’m not about to give in. Instead, I stroke her lightly, pretending my finger is a feather, keeping the pressure as soft as a whisper so she knows I’m down there, but I’m down there for one purpose: to torture her.

  With my dick still rubbing against her ass, I continue to pinch her nipples and stroke her until she lowers her head to the mattress and groans out in frustration.

  “Jason,” she cries out. “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Please, fuck me.”

  Satisfied, I release my grip and flip her to her back. The shocked look soon subsides when I tear her nightgown over her head, and then place both my hands on her knees. I spread them wide and take a look at her, completely exposed. Smooth skin stretches over her body, skin I want my mouth all over.

  “Are you on the pill?”

  “Yes.” She nods.

  “Good, because I want nothing between us.” I bring my aching cock to her entrance and move it up and down along her wetness, coating my dick in her arousal. “I love seeing your aroused pussy on my dick. I love seeing how wet you get from my touch, just from looking at me.” I rub her again and she shifts, trying to get me to enter her. “How many times do you plan on coming tonight, Dottie?”

  “As many as you’ll allow me.”

  “Perfect answer.” I slide my hands down to her inner thighs and drop to my knees. Keeping her spread, I bring my face down to her pussy and flick my tongue along her clit.

  “Oh fuck,” she cries out, her hands gripping the comforter. “I don’t know how much I can take.”

  “Are you begging me to eat your pussy, Dottie?”

  “Yes . . . please, Jason, yes.”

  “Fuck, I love hearing my name fall off your tongue like that, so desperate, so needy.”

  Not wasting any more time, I move my mouth to her pussy, open wide, and suck her in right before swirling my tongue over her clit over and over and over again.

  I’m vibrating my tongue, flicking, swirling, pressing down on her clit and then of course, sucking on it.

  She writhes on the mattress, her shoulders twisting and turning, her mouth falling open, her eyes squeezing shut. Her hands drop to my head, her fingers digging into my hair, pulling, tugging, trying to grip anything as I hold her hips to the mattress, not letting her set the pace, but letting me control when she comes.

  “Fu-uck, Jason. Please. Jesus, please.”

  I pull away and lightly kiss the inside of her thighs, moving back to her mound, and above, then back. Flick my tongue, swirl. Pull back. Kiss her thigh and repeat.

  Her arm flies over her eyes, and I’m almost positive she’s about to cry from sweet torture. It’s in that moment that I realize I have her right where I
want her.

  With my thumbs, I spread her lips and flatten my tongue against her clit, giving her long strokes with medium pressure, enough to make her come in seconds.

  She screams out my name as she heaves up and down, her body twisting and turning until she calls out for me to slow down.

  “I can’t . . . take, oh God.” I flick her clit again and her hips drive forward. So fucking responsive. It’s sexy as shit.

  When her body settles, I bring her legs up to her chest and say, “Hold on to your knees. Keep them wide.”

  Eyes still watery from her orgasm, her breath trying to catch up, her hands reach out, shaky and unsteady and she grips her knees, spreading herself wide.

  “Perfect.” I hover over her body and bring my mouth to hers where I very softly kiss her along her lips. I reach up and cup her cheek, allowing my thumb to stroke her cheek a few times. “You’re gorgeous, Dottie. So fucking beautiful.” She presses her cheek into my hand and for a second, we share an intimate moment as my dick lines up against her wet pussy. Tempting me, begging me to thrust deep inside her. I wait a few more seconds, marveling in the way her soft lips play with mine.

  “Are you ready for me?”

  She nods.

  “Good, because I need to be inside you like I need my next breath.” I grip the base of my aching cock and position it at her entrance. Slowly, I start to enter her, taking it one painstakingly inch at a time.

  “Shit, Jason,” she says, her mouth falling open and her eyes widening. “Slow, I need”—she swallows hard—“I need you to go slow.”

  And I need to go fucking fast or my dick might just break off, but I understand. I’m larger than most, so I grin down and bear the sweet torture.

  “Relax, Dottie.”

  “I know.” She nods, taking another deep breath. “Feels so good, but unlike anything”—she moans when I push forward another inch—“unlike anything I’ve ever felt.”

  I can say the same about her. Warm and tight, like I’m dipping myself into heaven.

  Wanting her to relax, I drop my mouth to hers and take one of her breasts in my hand. I massage and pinch her nipple while I trail kisses over her mouth, to her jaw, down her neck and back up.