Sweet Thing (Naughty Things 2)

And a few seconds later, it’s all over.

That hot feeling is gone, the unquenchable desire quenched.

But Ryker’s face lingers in my mind. His angled jaw that felt a little like sandpaper when he kissed me. And the kissing. His tongue. His… threats if he stayed any longer.

“Ryker,” I whisper, lowering the still-vibrating vibrator down between my legs again. “Ryker,” I say again, closing my eyes.

It takes a little longer this time, but that’s OK. And when I’m done I strip off all my clothes and take the vibrator to bed with me.

CHAPTER SIX – RYKER

“Seventeen,” I say, over and over again as I walk back to the co-op. When I get there I realize my driver dropped me off because I said I’d call him when I was done so he didn’t have to wait in the parking lot.

Which I do. Call him, I mean. Still muttering, “Seven-fucking-teen,” as he answers the phone.

“Mr. North. What was that?”

“Can you come pick me up?” I ask.

“Be right there, sir.”

I end the call and loiter out in front of the building, hands in my pockets because I don’t know what to do with them.

Seventeen.

And it doesn’t even matter that she’ll be eighteen in two days because even eighteen is too damn young.

Hell, twenty-five is too young. I’m thirty-five. Even if she was her sister, I’d have almost nothing in common with her. I’ve done this enough to know that it’s pointless. Younger women are just more trouble than they’re worth when you’re my age. They are exploring, they are testing limits, they are going places. Always going places.

Which… fine. I’m not even interested in a relationship. It’s never anything more than one night. And besides, I just have a thing for them. I don’t know why I’m attracted to the young ones, I just am.

But this… “No,” I caution myself. “No, no, no.”

This is a very big mistake waiting to happen. Because at twenty-five, most of these girls understand what I’m doing.

Which is using them. But most of them are using me too.

Not all of them. But most of them.

Some of them are like Aria, though not that young. Hell, I’ve never dipped that low before. But some of them are sweet like her and not dirty. They have romantic ideas, and expectations, and are shy, but eager.

Those are the best ones.

Shy and eager.

And with these girls I always have to explain to them it’s just sex. I make sure they understand.

Seventeen… they don’t get that. Not even at eighteen. Two days. I laugh. Two days makes no difference at all. At seventeen their minds are filled with what-ifs and possibilities.

I’ve fucked them as young as twenty before and even that’s a mistake.

So seventeen is just no.

Put her out of your head. Pretend this night never happened. Just… forget about her.

But I can’t. God, I can’t. I picture myself doing things to her. The exact things I said I’d do. Lifting up her little skirt, pulling her panties down to her knees and leaving them there as I finger her to climax with her face pushed up against a wall.

And by the time my driver pulls up a few minutes later, I’m hard.

I get in the back seat trying to adjust my cock so it can spread out along my leg underneath my slacks.

I want to jack off to the image of her sweet, sweet face moaning and twisting as I make her come with my fingers.

“Home?” the driver asks. “Or somewhere else tonight, Mr. North?”

It’s too early for me to go home. I don’t usually go home until late on workdays. And on Friday nights I go to bars, or restaurants, or the fake apartments of little girls.

Stop it, I warn myself.

You are not going to fuck this girl. Not even on Sunday when she turns eighteen.

You are going out tonight. You’re going to pick up some random woman, take her home, or go to her place, fuck her brains out while not thinking about Aria Amherst’s pink panties, and you’re going to get rid of this hard-on and never think about what just happened again.

“Mr. North?”

“Yes,” I say. “Take me home.”

Because I need to jerk off to those pink panties before the memory fades.

When I get up to my penthouse apartment uptown my hard-on is still raging. I take off my jacket, throw it on a chair, and unbuckle my belt as I walk towards the couch and take a seat.

Two seconds later my cock is in my fist and I’m jerking off as I picture what it would be like to be inside her sweet pussy.

“Aria,” I mutter, pumping my cock. “What are you doing to me?”

I close my eyes and picture the way her tits pressed against her button-down shirt. Imagine myself ripping her buttons off and pulling her shirt aside to reveal a pink bra that matches her panties. Then pulling that down so her breasts lift up and her nipples perk out.