Moody Bastard

He cracked his knuckles, then rubbed the back of his neck, his head spinning in complete and total confusion. If a slim little woman like Sydney could get him this hot, while two lesbians sucking on each other’s tongues couldn’t, there was something very odd with the state of his life and the world as he knew it.

Unarousable?

He could barely walk here. His cock strained in his pants so bad, he was about to burst the zipper open. He kept glancing at the clock, wondering when this would be over. He wasn’t going to get involved with an innocent like her. She was for men stupid enough not to even make a play for her. Not for men like Damien. Pinching the bridge of his nose as he fought to calm down, he spotted a photograph of a blonde nerdy guy and her. They were laughing. They looked…happy.

He cracked his knuckles restlessly again.

“That’s the man you want to seduce?”

“Yep.” She was naked again. All bony legs and creamy skin.

“Or should I say kid?”

“Just because you’re almost middle aged doesn’t mean its ok to bully younger people.”

He snorted, then told her, “Get on the bed. Raise your hands.”

She hopped on the bed, looking almost child-like, then she scooted back to the headboard and raised those slim arms. He felt her eyes on his face as he came over. He became aware of her breath, warm and hot, on the side of his neck, her delicate wrists under his fingers, her body small. Too small. He could break it. If he took her hips and rammed inside her too hard, he could break her.

“What do you fantasize a man does to you when you’re bound?” he asked, thickly.

He could feel her eyes on his face as he made a knot around her wrists, then hooked the leather strand around the slits of her intricately carved wooden headboard.

“We can’t play out my fantasy exactly because I’m saving my v-card, remember,” she whispered. “And my fantasy definitely includes being taken.”

He leaned back thoughtfully. “Do you masturbate, Sydney?”

She sucked in a breath, her abdomen clenching visibly. A surge of moisture gathered between her legs—his nostrils flared as the scent permeated him. His balls were turning blue so fast, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He rubbed the back of his neck, all his muscles tightening in need. “Do you masturbate, Sydney?” he demanded, his voice rougher than he’d anticipated.

“Yes. Do you?” she shot back.

“Of course. Nobody can survive their teenage years without masturbation.” His voice dropped as he looked at her through his lashes. “How often do you do it?”

“I…maybe once a month.” She bit her lower lip almost shyly, those blue eyes vulnerable and endearingly expecta

nt. “You, Damien?”

He noticed her breathing stopped as he bent forward, rechecking the tie. “Easy. I’m just making sure it’s not too tight.”

Pleased when he could stick a finger in each wrist, he edged back and let his eyes run slowly down her body again.

“I’d rather be masturbated by someone else.”

Her hair fell down her small shoulders, and splayed on the bed, she looked like a naked little doll, big innocent blue eyes, pouty pink lips, big lashes. It made him feel indecent to have a hard-on, while looking at something as pure as her.

The fact that she was still a virgin didn’t help.

Thoughtfully, he twirled a lock of brown hair around his finger, missing her red hair. She’d had the loveliest red hair, but it was brown now, brown and too drab for someone as spirited as her. Still, her blue eyes were the most magnificent thing he’d ever seen. And her body…

Small, narrow hips and an even smaller waist, she was still exquisite. Her pussy… His eyes snagged there. His mouth watered. She had a strip of cute little red curls.

She hadn’t painted that. His jaw ached and his cock strained in his pants. How easy it would be to get her hot…get her to the point where she didn’t even remember making him promise not to have sex with her, getting her hot and to that point where all she said to him was yes.

Pushing the thought aside, he coasted a hand along her sides, and her breasts started heaving. She had big, beautiful pink nipples, the areolas a fucking mouthful he wanted to tongue. He met her gaze, keeping his eyes shuttered, keeping her from knowing he desired her, he was hungry, that every day he’d regretted he’d denied her, even if it had been the right thing to do. It still was.

“I could masturbate you,” he rasped thickly, too selfish not to feel her. “You can get used to a man’s touch. I could ease into your climax…it would be close to your fantasy.”

Her slim throat worked to speak, then she closed her eyes. “You don’t have to. I know you’re used to models and…I only wanted pointers.”