Birthday Girl

I pull into my driveway a little after nine and look up at the house. She won’t be asleep yet, and I’m in no better condition to deal with her than I was four hours ago when work ended. But I can’t put it off anymore. We need to talk.

I see a small light on in the kitchen that I know is probably the one over the stove, but the rest of the house is dark, and part of me hopes she actually is in bed, because I don’t want to do this.

Jumping down out of my truck, I slam the door and walk to the house. Slipping the key into the deadbolt, I twist it and open the door, stepping into the dark living room. There’s no light streaming in from anywhere, and I don’t hear her music playing. I know my standing her up didn’t go by unnoticed. She called a couple hours ago but didn’t leave a message. She’s undoubtedly angry.

I take in a breath and instantly smell warm cheese and spicy meat. Pizza.

Walking into the kitchen, I pull open the oven and find the large box from Joe’s and take it out, setting it on top of the stove.

I flip the lid. Every piece still sits in the box, untouched.

My stomach knots, and I feel like shit. Of course, I knew she would have something for dinner. Heading back into the living room, I pick up the remote and turn on the TV, seeing the dark glass come to life and the cover of The Lost Boys (1987) appear on the Netflix screen. She had everything ready for a night in.

Trailing upstairs, I stop at her bedroom door, not seeing a light from inside streaming underneath.

I knock twice and wait. When there’s no answer, I twist the handle and open the door.

Through the moonlight coming in through her window, I see her bed still made and an empty room.

My pulse quickens. She doesn’t have a working car yet. Where did she go?

Did she have to work, after all? I check my phone again for texts, but I don’t see anything.

Maybe her sister gave her a ride.

But she would’ve told me if she had to work.

Dialing Jordan, I jog down the stairs as the line rings and turn the television off again.

When the line picks up, a blast of music hits my ear and I flinch, pulling it away just a hair.

“Hey,” she says, and I’m surprised she sounds so…calm.

“Where are you?”

“Out,” she replies. “I’ll be home later.”

“Are you working?”

She laughs, and I hear another woman’s voice and a string of chatter in the background. “Uh, no,” she finally answers.

Then I hear a bellow of what sounds like forty men cheering in the background, and I straighten, trying to figure out what the hell’s going on.

“Jordan, I’m sorry I was late,” I tell her.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry I was late!” I shout into the phone. “Work had to be done, and I had to stay.”

“Then why didn’t you call?” she replies, her voice growing louder. “You weren’t at work. You were at Red’s, and I don’t wait. Not anymore. I’m out with my friends, and I’m having fun. I’ll be home later.”

And then all the music in my ear and the DJ’s voice in the background falls dead and the line cuts off as she hangs up.

Hangs up on me.

I lower my phone and stare at the ended call. Ok, so she’s mad. I think. She didn’t sound mad, though. Or drunk. She just sounded indifferent, and for some reason, that feels worse. I can deal with anger, but not with a girl who sounds like she’s perfectly content with whatever conclusions she’s drawn. Shit.

Then it occurs to me what the DJ in the background was announcing.

Wet T-shirt Night at The Hook.

My eyes widen. She wouldn’t be that stupid, would she?

Goddammit. What the hell am I supposed to do? Is she out having some fun like she said or is she checkmating me? Is she trying to entice me to come and get her by threatening to do something I won’t like, or do I stay right where I am, call her bluff, and see what happens? This is why women and I don’t get along and my relationships don’t last. I don’t have the head for this bullshit.

But the fact that she went out at all is because of me. If I had come home when I told her I would, she’d be curled up next to me on the couch right now, taunting me with her eyes, her hands, her smell, and that sexy-ass way she arches her back when she stretches.

I sigh and shake my head.

I want her so badly.

Sticking the phone in my pocket, I pull out my keys and head for the door. As soon as I open it, though, I see Cole standing there with his hand out like he was just about to open it.

I halt, my eyebrows shooting up.

“Hey,” he says, his voice unusually pleasant.

I open my mouth to speak but it takes a minute to find my voice. “H—hey,” I stammer, a little shaken at seeing him suddenly. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day. I was even out to a couple of your usual haunts during my lunchbreak. Where the hell have you been?”

“Yeah, I know, sorry.” He walks in and heads for the kitchen. “I had some things to tie up.”

He goes for the fridge and pulls out a soda, then turns and leans against the sink as he pops the top.

“So, what’s going on with you?” I stand at the island. “Your mom shows up this morning, saying you quit your job?”

He flashes me an amused look like I’m overreacting.

“If you kept me posted, I wouldn’t nag,” I burst out but try to make it sound like banter.

He glances behind him out the window, seeing something, and pushes off the counter, heading through the laundry room and into the backyard. I follow him.

“I’m fine,” he calls over his shoulder. “I actually have a new job. That’s why I quit.”

He walks over to the pool and starts pulling the tube for the vacuum up. I’d completely forgotten about it. It had been going since yesterday afternoon.

“A new job?” I ask, taking his slack from behind him. “Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises. Where’s the job?”

He starts laughing, and I scowl.

“Why are you laughing?” I demand. Does he know how worried everyone is about him, and now he acts like he’s got everything together, and we’re supposed to not ask questions?

“Because I’m excited,” he says. “I’ll tell you soon. I promise.”

“Is it legal?” I pull the tube, feeling the weight of the vacuum as it starts drifting across the pool toward us.

His back shakes with another laugh.

I quirk an eyebrow.

“I promise, this job is as legal as it gets,” he tells me, a private joke in his words I don’t understand. “I’ve got a steady paycheck coming, medical, dental, retirement, the whole works.” He glances at me. “I’m not on drugs, and I’m not in trouble. I’m absolutely fine. I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I just didn’t want it to be awkward for Jordan.”

I drop the tube, having reached nearly the end.

“So, you’re fine, then?” I ask, for clarification.

“Yeah.”

“Will you come home?”

But he shrugs, looking unsure. “It would be uncomfortable, I think. I want Jordan to stay here as long as she needs.”

I approach him. I’m still a couple inches taller than him, but I’m always surprised at how much bigger he seems every time I see him.

I hesitate to say it, because I don’t want her to go anywhere, but I know Cole’s place is here. “I can find a different arrangement for her,” I tell him.

I can figure something out to make sure they’re both taken care of.

He doesn’t seem to need to think about it, though. “No.” He shakes his head, squaring his shoulders. “It wouldn’t be worth it. I’ll have my own place soon anyway.”

“Really?” Now I am worried. This new job seems a little too good to be true. “You’re making me nervous again,” I tell him.

But he just starts chuckling again, and then he turns his attention back to the vacuum, and I join him in hauling it up.

“Listen,” he says, “I wanted to get my first tat before this job starts. I was thinking we could get one together. Would you want to?” He flashes me a nervous look, and I can tell it was hard for him to ask. “Like next weekend?”

A tattoo?

The last one I got, he was two, I think. It’s not really what I’m into anymore, but I’d definitely do it for him. I’m just grateful he’s even asking to do anything with me.

“Yeah.” I nod. “Sounds good.”

I even know what I want to get, too, the idea pops in my head so fast.

“Come on,” he nudges, pulling on the vacuum. “I’ll help you with this, and then I’m gonna go meet up with friends, okay?”

“Yeah.” I pull on the last of the tube, and the vacuum emerges, draining water.

I have a little errand to run, too, actually.

I don’t even think anyone under twenty-one is allowed in this place unless they’re an employee, and Jordan better not be. I have a fleeting thought on the way over to call and report Mick Chan for letting a nineteen-year-old in his strip club, but it’s not like I didn’t take advantage of lenient bar owners when I was nineteen, either. Plus, it would just piss Jordan off more. I can hear her now. Oh, I’m old enough for you to go down on but not old enough to have a drink?

Well, yes, legally speaking. If she wants to get technical about it, anyway.

Sliding my keys into my pocket, I head across the parking lot and pull open the door to The Hook. The music bounces off the walls and vibrates under my feet, and I inhale the familiar smell of the orchid-scented shampoo Mick always uses for the carpets. It smells like the flood of perfume you get walking into a high-end casino that’s trying to cover up the odor of cigarettes. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in here, but all of a sudden, I’m nineteen again.

I pay the cover and walk in, stopping as I pass the bar and see the sea of people in the place. Young guys, older men, a few women and couples, purple lights under the white stage and streams of smoke drifting up into the air from the orange ends of cigarettes.

Apprehension takes hold. I shouldn’t have come here.

I should leave before she sees me. She’s an adult, she’s taken good care of herself for a long time, and that little voice in my head is right. If I can take her to bed and keep her up half the night going at it, then she’s old enough to make her own choices. She should be able to go with her friends. I want her to go out with her friends.

I just don’t want her here, because I know Mick wants her, she needs money, and I made her situation in my home feel shaky tonight. She’s upset, and what if she starts thinking she needs to move out? What if she has a few drinks and decides she needs to make some extra money?

I run my hand through my hair, feeling the gel I put in it and remembering how I got cleaned up for her. I even changed my clothes.

I glance down at the navy blue suit I bought last year for Cole’s graduation, but I left off the tie tonight. Just a white shirt, open at the collar, and some black shoes. I don’t know why I put it on, because I’m feeling fucking stupid now, but I think I just want her to know that I’m not an open book. I can be different. I can still surprise her.

I back up to leave, praying she hasn’t seen me, but the crowd in the club cheers and bellows, and my attention is drawn to the stage where a group of girls stand in a line.

They’re dressed in everything from jeans to skirts to thongs, looking nervous but giggling and playful. A couple women have already started the contest, and it seems the will to win three-hundred dollars now calls for more extreme measures than back in my day. Two women are already wet, some older woman coming by and dumping pitchers of water all over them as they reach inside their drenched shirts and jiggle their breasts and then turn around, straddling the floor as they shake their asses for the roaring crowd. More water gets dumped all over their backs. Heads of wet hair fly, and they may as well be fucking naked. They practically are.

Some of the guys have their camera phones out, and I’m pretty sure that’s not allowed, but no one cares. These women are not amateurs, are they? Jordan can’t do that shit.

Can she?

Just then, a gang of women pull a young blonde on stage, and I see Jordan resisting them, laughing but shaking her head nervously.

What the…

I can’t hear her, but I see her lips mouthing no over and over again as she digs in her heels and tries to pull her arms away from her sister.

Someone from behind reaches in front of her and unzips her little, white sweatshirt, and I launch forward, but then a pitcher of water is dumped all over her chest, and I halt, momentarily frozen.

Her eyes go wide, her mouth falls open, and she looks like she’s in shock from the undoubtedly cold water as she just stands there with her hands out in front of her and her sweatshirt now draping down her bare arms.

The ends of her hair are wet, but her long, sexy layers wisp around her face, and water streams down her stomach, making her skin glisten.

Where did she get that lingerie top? It’s cream-colored and lacy, thin straps over her shoulders, and damn-near see-through. Her dark nipples are visible from here, as are the curves of her breasts as the wet fabric clings to her body.

And my eyes burn as they drift around the room to every guy watching and catcalling her. She should be wearing that in my fucking bed. Not on a goddamn stage. I ball my fists.

She seems to break out of her shock, because she suddenly hugs her arms to her body and darts off stage, leaving her sweatshirt behind. She launches down the steps and runs along the wall, toward the hallway where the bathrooms are. Some girls at a table grab for her, calling her name, and she keeps going and turns her smile back at them and blushing to her friends. Or her sister’s friends.

Suddenly, she looks up and locks eyes with me, coming to a halt. The girls at the table see her stop and follow her gaze, glancing between the two of us.

The two vertical dips in her stomach on both sides of her belly button glimmer, covered in drops of water, and the sight of her skin makes my cock fill with blood.

She wore that. She purposely put it on, which means she was considering going up there. I raise my eyes from her body and stare at her, taking a step forward.

Mine.

She backs up a step.

I move again. And so does she.

“It was an accident,” she snaps, her eyebrows pinched in a scowl. “She was just playing around. I don’t need any crap about something that wasn’t my fau—”

I rush up to her and wrap my arm around her waist, taking her face in my hand and pulling her mouth to mine.

She whimpers, surprised, and I don’t care who sees us at the moment. Without breaking the kiss, I walk her backward, into the hallway, and around the corner.

She tears her mouth away. “What are you doing?”

But God, I’m so hungry. I dive for her lips again, tasting her tongue and threading my hand through her soft hair.

“No.” She pulls away from me.

I drop my arms, my heart pounding and my fingers still buzzing with the feel of her skin.

“I’m not going to fight with you,” I tell her, breathing hard, “and I’m not going to ask you to come home. I just want to say I’m sorry.”

She lifts her chin, feigning ignorance. “About?”

“The pizza, the movie…”

“Forgetting me,” she adds.

I approach her, trying to stay calm and keep my hands off her. “I didn’t forget you. I can’t…forget you.”

She’s quiet, holding my eyes, and I’m not sure what’s going on in her head, but I just needed to say it to her face. I don’t want her acting out because she thinks I was being careless with her.

Without another word, she twists around and heads down the hallway, pushing through the exit.

“Where are you going?” I follow her.

“My sister has a change of clothes in her car,” she answers, still sounding impatient with me. “I’m fine, and I’ll be home later, okay?”

She reaches Cam’s white Mustang in the crowded parking lot and goes to the driver’s side.

“Stop.” I come up behind her, putting my hand on the door in front of her. “Just let me explain.”

She twirls around, a sympathetic look on her face. “Oh, I’m sure you have an excuse. A really good one. No worries.”

She turns back around and reaches for the handle, but I need her to listen. Just for a second.

“Stop. Please.” I breathe hard, staring at the back of her head. “Jordan, I…

I swallow, just wanting her to turn around and look at me with her sweet smile and gentle eyes again.

I drop my voice to barely a whisper. “I can’t lose him,” I tell her.

She stills, and all I can hear is her breathing. Did she have any regrets when she woke up this morning?

She finally turns and looks up at me, nodding calmly. “I know,” she says softly. “So you have to lose me. I get it. I don’t want to hurt him, either.”

She spins around again to open the door, but my head falls forward into her neck, and my eyes close. She’s like water slipping through my fingers, and I’m dying here.

“I’m falling for you,” I whisper.

Slowly, she turns around again, and I don’t know if I should’ve told her that, but I raise my weary eyes, taking in her quiet expression. Her eyes look equally floored and something caught between desire and struggle to hold back.

“I knew you were out there somewhere,” I tell her, quirking a sad smile. “The girlfriends, women I dated, Cole’s mother…. I never wanted to marry anyone, because they weren’t what I was looking for. I had started to think I had my sights set too high, and you didn’t exist.” I clasp the back of her neck and run my thumbs down her throat. “Turns out my dream girl belongs to the one person it would kill me to hurt.”

Tears well in her eyes, and I bring her in, my lips meeting her forehead.

“I don’t mean to scare you,” I go on. “But you kind of scare me, because I want you like I need air, and…”

She nods. “And complications,” she finishes for me.

Pulling back, she looks away, and neither one of us are sure what to do next. The problem is there to stay.

“I needed time to think tonight,” I explain. “I’m sorry I stood you up.”

“And what did you figure out?” She drops her eyes, pulling at my fucking heart. “With all your thinking?”

I don’t hesitate, because I know I can’t stop. “That I can put off feeling guilty until tomorrow.”

I snatch up her lips and kiss her hard, feeling her slowly melt into me and pressing her body to mine. Heat floods through me, and I grow hard, moving my hands around her back, gripping her ass and lifting her leg by the back of the knee. I trail kisses over her cheek and down her neck, and she lets her head fall back, giving me free rein as I press her into the car and nibble her throat and collar bone.

“Pike, someone will see us,” she pleads.

But I’m so damn hungry for this. The strap of her top falls down her arm, and I pull the cup off her breast and dive down, taking a mouthful of her flesh, nipple and all, in my mouth.

She gasps. “Pike. Oh, God….”

She moans as I kiss and suck on her, nibbling on the pebbled skin of her nipple.

“Jesus, we gotta get home,” I groan. “Or I’m going to fuck you right here.”

“Hey, Pike,” someone calls.

I pop up, Jordan yelps, and I wrap my arms around her as she tucks herself into my chest, trying to hide her barely clothed body.

“Shit,” I growl and turn my head, seeing Ben Lovell in his police car, idling right next to us. How did we not hear him drive up?

“Ben,” I say, breathing hard. “What the hell?”

He’s doing a lousy job of hiding his amusement as he answers, “Just doing my rounds, man,” he says. “Is that Chip Hadley’s girl you got there?”

“None of your business.” I shift, trying to make sure Jordan is out of his view.

But he still tries to peer over at her. “You okay, honey?” he asks, still smiling.

She hugs her arms to her body, covering her nakedness as she folds her smile between her teeth. “Um, yes, sir.”

He chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “Goddamn,” he mumbles under his breath, shifting his car into Drive and slowly moving on.

I wait for him to leave the parking lot before I turn to Jordan. “Don’t worry. He’ll keep quiet.”

Lovell isn’t a gossip.

She quickly pulls up the strap of her top and crosses her arms over her chest, looking around nervously.

“Come on.” I take her hand, leading her to my truck. “Let’s go home and go for a swim.”

“Naked?” she taunts.

I pull open her door for her, shaking my head. “No,” I reply. “Wear the shells. I’ve been dying for the chance to peel that suit off you.”

She smiles and climbs in the seat, and I walk around the car, opening my door. She takes out her phone, probably texting her sister to let her know she’s leaving, and I start the engine, kicking it into gear.

Before we’re even out of the parking lot, she crawls up next to me and starts nibbling on my neck.

“Speaking of suits…” she says, sliding a hand inside my jacket and caressing my chest. “I could get used to this look on you.”

“Don’t,” I warn. “It’s only for special occasions.”

“And I’m a special occasion?”

“I think you know you are,” I tease. “I don’t widen my comfort zone for just anyone.”

I flash her a smirk, not the least bit annoyed she’s flipped my whole carefully constructed, boring world upside down. I’m doing things I wouldn’t normally do just to please her, but she’s also making me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time. Some of them, never. I actually found myself entertaining a list in my head today of all the things I want to do with her. Take her to baseball games and on road trips, and I actually sifted through fucking eBay today for 80’s cassette tapes I thought I could surprise her with, like I’ll still be around for the holidays and her birthday next year, for crying out loud.

She makes me excited for everything to come. Whatever that is.

I turn to her, trying to keep one eye on the road and kiss her at the same time, but I just end up laughing.

“Buckle up. You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

She plops back on her ass and scoots over, pulling on her seatbelt.

“Oh,” I say, glancing at her, “and I know Mick wants to hire you. You’re not working there. You got that?”

She rests her head back on the seat, staring out the windshield. “Oh, are you laying down the law now?”

“I don’t like worrying. This gets settled now.”

I don’t really think she’s serious, but I like things carved in stone.

She just shrugs. “My sister makes good money. She’s not hurting anyone, and I’m not letting anyone support me.” She pauses and then continues. “I guess I’ll do what I have to do. I don’t really need your permission, you know?”

I dig in my eyebrows, the irritation of this situation crawling up my back.

But then I remember how hard she had to be pulled on stage tonight, obviously deciding that a wet T-shirt contest was not for her, no matter if she had gotten dressed for it or not.

I let out a little snort, remembering the way she protested. “I don’t even know what I’m concerned about,” I say, my voice thick with humor. “You’re a good girl. You don’t have what it takes to work there.”

“I’m not a girl.”

I press my lips together to stop smiling, but it’s hard. I know, I know, she’s a woman.

“And if Dutch or that little prick Jay or any of the guys who work for me come in?” I press. “You gonna be able to wear a bikini behind the bar and serve them drinks, or even worse, take off your clothes and dance for them? Let them use you to get off? Sit in their laps and rub up on them for forty bucks?”

I can’t help but laugh under my breath at the ridiculous notion. If she actually thinks about it and mentally puts herself in that situation, she’ll know it’s absurd.

She turns her head toward me. “Are you laughing at me?”

“I’m saying I know you,” I tell her, evening out my tone. “You and I both know you don’t have the guts any more than I would, so let’s stop wasting time arguing about something that will never happen.”

She faces forward and turns silent, but I see her jaw tense as she stares out the windshield. Assuming I know her mind more than she does is probably condescending, but she’s acting childish, keeping up this pretense. She has more common sense than that, and I don’t like games. She knows she would never be able to deal with those customers, and she definitely can’t strip and dance naked. She’d probably be so embarrassed to be stared at she’d break into tears.

Seven minutes later, though, I pull into the driveway, and she hops out before I’ve even killed the engine.

“Jordan?” I call, swinging my door open.

What the hell? We’re not fighting again, are we?

But she glances over her shoulder as she walks toward the porch. “I’m just gonna get in my swimsuit.”

I stand there, twirling the keyring on my finger. Oooookay.

Awareness pricks on the back of my neck, and I turn my head, scanning the neighborhood for Cole’s car or his mother’s. Then I dart my gaze over the windows of nearby houses for peeled-back curtains or movement.

I’m sure there’s talk on the block by now.

People notice things, and Cole is rarely here, while his girlfriend and I are constantly together. It won’t take long for people to come to their own conclusions.

By the time I make it into the house, Jordan is nowhere to be seen. Trailing upstairs, I pass her closed bedroom door and head to my room to change into swim shorts. She’s still in her room when I come out, and I head back downstairs to grab some water bottles and turn on the backyard lights. The pool lights up, and I turn on the radio affixed underneath the cabinet, some chick singing about Guys My Age already playing on the station Jordan has it tuned to.

My phone beeps with an unfamiliar ring, and I walk over to the island and pick it up.

Jordan. Why is she FaceTiming me?

Answering, I see her appear on the screen, but she’s looking down at me, like her phone

is propped up on something lower than her. Like her desk. Her hair drapes around her, and I can’t really see anything else other than the glow of the overhead light.

“What are you doing?” I ask, carrying the phone into the living room.

But she remains silent.

I sit down on the couch, leaning my elbows on my knees and watching her. A small smile plays on her lips, and she moves her head left and then right, and I can tell she’s toying with me. She stands up straight, and I lose sight of her face, but her beautiful body comes into view, and I see that she’s wearing the shell bikini.

My heart skips a beat, and I have to fight back a smile. Her breasts bulge outside of the little pink fabric, and the thin strings look so delicate on her tan skin. I want to ask her to turn around, but I’d rather just have her down here.

The screen jostles, and I see she’s repositioning the phone farther back, and when she comes into view again, I can see part of the desk, her body, and her face now. She leans into the desk, eyeing me with a flirty look, her arms pressing into her body and, coincidentally, her breasts, too.

I quirk a smile. “Yes, Jordan?”

“I’m not a kid,” she says, her smile suddenly disappearing.

A feeling of trepidation courses through me, and I knew this was too good to be true. She’s teasing me, and she’s not coming down now.

I sigh and lay back on the couch. “Then stop acting like one,” I reply.

She stares down, pinning me with her defiant eyes. “I’m not a kid,” she says again.

And I watch as she reaches one hand behind her neck and the other behind her back and pulls both strings, the pathetic little pieces of fabric falling off her body and to the floor.

I swallow a hard lump at the sight of her. I was going to do that, dammit.

Her hard nipples stand out at me, and the skin on my palms buzz with the memory of her in my hands. My stomach flips, and my cock is swelling with need already.

Please don’t do this to me.

But I can’t look away.

I can’t hear the music in her room, or maybe she’s hearing mine in the kitchen, but she starts swaying a little bit and rocking her hips, closing her eyes and running her hands up, down, and all over her body, face and hair. She looks like dessert.

Biting her bottom lip, she plays with me, caressing her tits and slipping her hands down her stomach and playing with the hem of her bottoms, threatening to pull them down.

She taunts me with her eyes and the promise of seeing something good. Like a stripper.

Realization hits, and I finally know what she’s doing.

I shake my head, my body on fire for her. “You can’t do it,” I tease.

She can’t take off her clothes and dance.

“You’re right,” she says, turning around and looking at me over her shoulder. “I can’t do it. I’m just a little girl, right? A silly, little girl.”

She faces me again, giving me a coy smile as she tilts the screen down, and I notice that she’s straddling the rounded corner of the desk. Still standing, she places one hand on the desk and the other one up on the wall, I think, with the corner of the wooden desk resting between her legs.

And I watch as she slowly starts humping it. Her hips roll and her stomach fans in and out as her ass moves and grinds over the tabletop, and I can hear the friction of the fabric over her pussy rubbing against the wood.

Oh, Jesus. My chest rises and falls faster as I watch her do the most beautiful thing I think I’ve ever seen. God, I love watching her. Her tits sway with the movement, bouncing a little when she starts going harder, and my mouth has gone so dry I can’t swallow.

“You wanna see me do this?” she teases, her big eyes telling me she knows damn well I like what I’m seeing.

“Stop fucking around and get down here.”

She drops her head back instead, running her fingers down her face and body, cupping a breast and squeezing it before trailing the hand down her stomach.

“I told you I had a vibrator,” she says, looking at me again. “I don’t use it, though.” She increases her speed, and I can hear that the grinding has gotten harder. “I like to be in control. I like to work for it, like I’m fucking a real one.”

I lick my lips. “Jordan…”

“Shhh….”

She opens her mouth and moans and then lifts a knee, placing it on the desk to widen her legs. Sweat cools my brow, and I sit up, leaning forward again.

“I like you watching me,” she says. “You’ve always watched me, haven’t you? Always wanted to have your fun with me.”

I falter, knowing what she says is true. I’ve wanted her since the first time I saw her.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “I always knew, and I always liked it. Keep watching me, Mr. Lawson.”

I swallow, my mouth still so dry. “I am,” I breathe out.

“Oh, God,” she moans.

My eyes burn, and I’m desperate to blink, but I can’t take my gaze off her. I can almost feel it. Like the corner of the desk is my fingers she’s fucking, and her soft flesh is grinding on my hand. Or my fucking mouth, I don’t care. I’ve never been so jealous of an inanimate object.

“Move the phone to the bed,” I tell her. “I want to see you from behind.”

She slows her movements, shaking and breathing hard, and I can tell I caught her just as she was chasing her orgasm.

Oh, well, she’ll have to work harder to get it back again.

Walking the phone to the bed, she props it up against something and quickly looks back and forth between the screen and the desk to make sure I have her in view, and then walks back to the desk corner.

Running her fingers through her hair, she glances at me over her shoulder, smirking. I tighten my fist, anxious for the feel of that perky ass.

But before she lifts her knee again, she slips her fingers under the hem of her bikini bottoms and slides them down just below her ass. And she leaves them there. Planting her hands on the desktop, she leans over it, lifts her knee, and arches her back for me, jutting out her ass as she starts dry humping the corner of the desk again.

Her behind, her hair falling down her back, her way of moving and taunting…. I reach down and adjust my cock, now painfully stiff and ready. To have this view of her, I’m dying.

“Mmmm, that’s what I like,” she pants, meeting my eyes over her shoulder. “Watch me. Watch me fuck for you. I’ll do whatever you say. It’s all for you.”

She goes harder, stronger, and faster, and I’m not sure if I want her pussy in my mouth or around my dick first. I’m taking her from behind tonight. I have to have her like this.

“Jordan…” The phone cracks in my hand.

“You like it?” she taunts. “You like when I play with myself for you?”

“Baby.” I rise from the couch.

I need her.

“Mmm, I like you watching,” she groans. “Am I being good now?”

I don’t take my eyes off her as I climb the stairs.

“I wish there were ten more of you watching me,” she says, “wanting me.”

If there were any more of me, she’d have a huge problem tonight.

“Pike, I’m so wet. You could slide right into me.”

My dick jerks and pulses, and I reach her door and twist the handle.

“You like it?” She pumps faster. “I’m so hot and wet for you.”

The door’s locked, and I jiggle the handle, dying to get inside.

“Jordan?” I call, my patience non-existent. “Open the door.”

“Oh, Pike. Oh, God.”

I look down at the screen again, seeing her hair damn-near touching her ass as she throws her head back and fucks the desk. God, her ass…

“More, more, more, more…” she whimpers. “I’m coming. Oh, God. Yes!”

“Jordan, shit…” I yank at the door, ready to knock it down. “Open the door.”

Don’t come without me.

“Fuck me!” she cries out, moaning and whimpering. “Yes! Yes…yes…yes.”

Her voice gets lower and calmer as she rides it out, coming on the other side of the door and finishing without me.

“Jordan?”

Goddammit, I don’t want her satisfied yet.

But the door doesn’t open, and when I look at the phone, her movements have slowed, just the barest grinding and little sounds out of her as she finishes herself off. I’m going to bend her over that fucking desk right now.

“Jordan, Jesus, open the door,” I growl.

She straightens, putting her foot back on the floor and pulling her bikini bottoms back on. Walking over to the bed, she leans down and meets my eyes, a dreamy look on her face.

“I love seeing you enjoy that,” she says, the sweet look of contentment on her face. “I love seeing that I can hold your attention. And not only can I do it, Pike, but I think I liked it.”

She curls her lips in a little grin.

I jiggle the door handle again. “Jordan, open the door.”

She just tsks. “I’d like to, baby, but…” She sighs. “The dance is over, and you’re not allowed to touch the girls.” And then she winks at me. “’Night, sugar.”

The light on the screen disappears as she ends the call, and the whole hallway suddenly goes dark. I stand there, trying to figure out if she’s actually doing what I think she’s doing, when the light under the door disappears, as well, and I realize she’s shut off her lights.

She’s going to bed?

I yank at the door. “Jordan,” I bark. “What the fuck?”

I hear a drawer open and slam shut and then the bed creak with weight. After a few moments, there are no sounds, and my worst fears have come true. I have a raging hard-on. What would she do if I broke down the door right now? Shit!

I let my forehead fall into the door, and I’m about to throw up my man card and cry.

“When I get a hold of you, it won’t be pretty,” I warn her. “That’s a promise. You’re in for it.

My phone beeps, and I look down, swiping the screen.

Go to bed, the text reads.

My stomach twists, and I’m halfway between going downstairs and blasting music so loud she can’t sleep while I work off some steam doing laps in the pool or picking another fight to get her out of bed again.

It’s late, though, and if I work out now I’ll be up for hours. I have my hand and the Internet, don’t I? Although I don’t need porn when just the memory of her a bit ago hasn’t left long enough to let me get soft yet.

Trailing down to my room, I slam the door shut behind me and crash to the bed, rubbing my aching groin.

Another text beeps in.

And don’t jerk off, it says.

I clench my teeth and whip the phone off to the side, hearing it hit the dresser and drop to the floor.

I better wake up and find her on my dick in the morning or no one is safe tomorrow.