I swat him on the shoulder. “You better not come in there. I won’t be able to focus on my job if I know you’re in there distracting me with those muscles and dirty smiles.”
Dax laughs, knowing I’m teasing. It’s what we do. Trade flirty jokes, often full of innuendo. But that’s all it ever is. Joking. Teasing.
That doesn’t mean I wish for once he’d mean it. But right now him staying out of the club is not a joking matter. The last thing I want is him and his friend coming in to pay a little visit to me, the cocktail waitress. Because as of tomorrow I’ll be up on that stage. And the idea of taking my clothes off in front of Dax is the last thing I want to imagine.
Except I do. Over and over again that night when I get in bed and grab my vibrator. All I can think about is him, hard and needy, his eyes glued to my body as I strip for him. His hand going to his cock. Dax coming hard while watching me.
And that’s all I see as I make myself come, wishing it was him and not my favorite toy getting the job done.
Yeah right. If only.
Dax
The music pouring from behind the bathroom door thrums in time to the fantasy going through my head. Each heavy beat mimicking the brutal pounding I wish I were giving Whitney right this minute.
Her under me. Her on top of me. Her on her knees while I give it to her from behind. Or up against the wall. Or on the kitchen counter. Anywhere really. Or everywhere, if I’m being honest. All I want is to fuck that girl everywhere and every way possible.
I grit my teeth and try to focus on the game on TV, but it’s really fucking hard after what I saw earlier.
Whit didn’t know I was home. I came out of my room and headed to the bathroom, only to see her fucking dancing in her room. In nothing but her bra and panties. It took everything I had not to barge in there and throw her on the bed and show her what I’ve wanted to do since the moment she moved in.
Raking a hand through my hair, I debate for the millionth time if it would really be such a bad thing. People do it all the time, right? Friends with benefits.
Added benefit here is that we share the same apartment. Except that’s probably the very same reason I haven’t done anything about this near constant hard-on she gives me. If I were to fuck it up, I’d be out roommate. Even worse, I’d be without her.
And I like having her around. She’s pretty fucking awesome. Not just her body that’s what fantasies are made of—mine in particular—but everything. We have fun. So I’d hate to ruin it.
Even if I do have to jerk off to thoughts of her on the regular. I mean, what’s a guy supposed to do? It’s the only way I’m able to function around her. Though it’s been harder and harder lately to keep those thoughts tucked away.
Like right now. Knowing she’s naked in that bathroom. Maybe even shaking that eyes in a way that shouldn’t be legal—just like I saw her doing earlier.
“Fuck.”
I get up and go to my room to grab some headphones, needing to drown out the sound of that music with something less boner-inducing.
Just as I’m walking past the bathroom, the door flies open, the music amplified. Clouds of steam pour out from where she stands in front of me with her eyes wide and her mouth in a perfect little O.
Totally fucking naked.
“Oh my god, Dax,” Whitney squeals, darting forward in what looks like an attempt to get around me. Then she halts and starts backward, apparently deciding a retreat to the bathroom is a much better choice than brushing against me. Something she’d have to do to get past. Because I’m rooted to the spot.
She jerks to a stop again, as if she’s paralyzed with indecision just as much as I’m paralyzed by the sight of her body in front of me.
We stand there like that for seconds that feel like forever. Staring at each other. The air between is thick with tension. And desire. I can’t hide the way my eyes drop down, slowly taking in her body. I can’t stop them from greedily drinking her in. I don’t think I could tear them away if my life depended on it.
Shit.
Fucking perfect.
Full, round tits, so lush and perky, the nipples tightening into hard buds as I caress them with my eyes.
I want to groan when her breath hitches and her tits rise and fall in a way that begs me to reach out and grab them.
Lower, lower, my eyes rake over her flat, toned stomach, coming to rest on her pussy. Totally bare.
Goddammit. That’s the last thing I need to know. And the one thing I wonder about night after night as I lie in bed with my dick in my fist. The dick that is currently straining against my jeans, begging to sink into her wet heat.
Only a matter of seconds pass, but it feels like we stand there for hours. Somehow, I gather every last remaining ounce of self-control. Leaning forward, my body towering over hers, I reach behind Whitney.