“What do you mean?” she asks, frowning at me.
“I mean I’m used to women throwing themselves at me, but I’ve never had anyone try and break in through my balcony,” I explain with a chuckle. “I admire your dedication.”
“First of all, I am not throwing myself at you, and second, I wasn’t breaking in,” she retorts defensively. “Didn’t you hear me knocking?”
She walks farther inside, and I close the door, my gaze following her across the room. My eyes are firmly on her ass as her hips gently sway which every step. My jaw tightens at the sight of her panties riding up her ass.
What the hell is she doing on my balcony in her underwear?
I’m surprised I have time to think that—considering how busy I am imagining what she would look like with those tiny panties off. I sigh, the thought my tongue sliding along her bare pussy is nearly too much for me to handle.
She sits down on my couch, carefully trying to cover herself up, much to my amusement. I walk over there and stand against the wall, knowing I’ll have the best view of her there. She flushes as I stare at her.
“So, are you going to explain to me why you’re on my balcony at six in the morning, wearing next to nothing?” I finally ask.
She glances down, her face going crimson as if I’ve just reminded her that she's practically naked. I step forward and lean against the back of my armchair, mainly because I’m so fucking hard it’s getting uncomfortable.
“It’s a long story,” she mumbles.
I shrug, spreading my hands out. “I’ve got time.”
The combination of lack of sleep, alcohol, and her turning up in her underwear is driving me crazy. Inappropriate visions pour through my mind of her crouched on her knees, wrapping those plump, red lips around my length.
She glares at me. “I really don't want to get into it right now. Do you have a shirt or something I can borrow?” she asks. She’s shaking. I’m not sure if she’s cold, or just really fucking embarrassed.
“Sure,” I say.
I walk down to my bedroom, ramping up the heating on the way. I retrieve the lilac sweater that’s been hiding in my closet for the last few months. Honestly, I’ve got no idea who left it here, but I knew it would come in handy one day. I walk out and toss it to her. She gratefully puts it on. I grin as it clings to her petite frame and barely covers her waist. Her eyes blaze as she glares at me.
“This is all you have? Do you even know who it belongs to?” she asks accusingly.
“Yes, and no. Sorry, it’s laundry day.” I smirk, even though I’ve got a closet full of shirts that would cover way more of her, and she knows it.
I much prefer to have this conversation with her wearing as little as possible.
Watching her sitting here in that sweater is doing nothing to tame my erection, though. At this point, I think the only fix is going to involve plunging my length into her pussy. Or down her throat, because at least I already know she’s up for that.
Contrary to what most people believe, I don’t wave my cock at everything that moves. Just most things. But there was something about Alana that sparked my interest. And when she turns up at my apartment in nothing but a skimpy set of underwear, how am I'm expected to react?
“Can I get you a coffee or something?” I ask her. She nods and even manages a smile.
“That would be good,” she says.
I walk into the kitchen, glancing back to check on her every now and then. I'm dying to know what happened, but she's keeping pretty tight-lipped on the details.
“So, you haven't told me how you wound up on my balcony yet,” I point out as I fill the coffee pot.
“I know,” she says, her face going red. “There's a reason for that. It’s embarrassing enough, without you knowing all the details. I feel sick every time I think about it.”
I frown. “Is this something that I should involve the police over?” I ask.
She glares at me, her eyes flashing. “You think I'm stalking you?”
I chuckle at her feistiness. “That’s not what I meant. I was asking if someone hurt you?”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” she mumbles. “Well, unless you count my dignity because that's pretty much shattered.” She frowns and looks up at me. “I just don’t want this to affect my position at work,” she says softly.
I smirk because her only position I care about at the moment is the one that allows me to slide my cock inside her at the right angle.
“How about this,” I begin. “You tell me why you're here, and then we can forget this ever happened.”