Wet (2 page)

“Not on my account. I like that outfit.”

“Hmmm.” She takes a swig of beer as she studies me, the corners of her mouth turning up.

I nod at the buzzing cell phone she set down on the table. “Is that your ex trying to reach you?”

“No, not my ex.”

“Oh, so there are others.”

Of course there are others . . . I mean, look at her.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s that damn profile on my Tinder page. I made a mistake saying that I have
a very open mind
.”

“Why is that a mistake?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the weirdos that contact me.”

I take a long sip of my beer as I watch her. This woman is making my head spin. “Do you mind me asking something?”

“Not at all.”

“Why are you using Tinder? I have to think that men are falling all over each other to be with you.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t want to
be
with anyone. I’ve done that and I like being on my own.”

Puzzled, I point to the phone. “So?”

“You really want to know? You won’t judge me?” She pauses and appraises me like she’s trying to determine if I can be trusted.

I nod—my curiosity piqued.

She squares her shoulders and boldly stares me in the eye. “I want sex, lots of sex. Nothing more. I’m only looking for hookups.”

I cough, almost spitting up my beer.
Is she serious?

“Initially it was my girlfriend’s idea. After the crash and burn of my marriage she knew that my self-esteem was low, and thought if I had some fun I’d realize how
hot
I am.” She laughs and rolls her eyes playfully.

“I can’t believe you ever questioned that,” I reply.

She shrugs. “My husband’s lack of interest preyed on me after a while.”

I shake my head in disbelief. Her ex must be nuts.

“I’d always been a ‘good’ girl, so I thought my friend was crazy to suggest doing hook-ups on Tinder . . . but I agreed to try, and for the most part, I’ve had fun.”

“I bet you have.” I grin, imagining how men must react to her. A few years ago she would’ve been my ideal woman.

She taps the phone with her manicured nails. “And Tinder is an efficient way to sort through the crowd.”

“Then why did you throw your phone in the bushes?”

She leans back into her chair. “This last creeper pushed me over the edge. He wanted me to wear a latex body suit and sit on him.”

My eyebrows knit together. “What?”

“Exactly! So you can see why I’m agitated!”

“So you’re not a fan of squatting in latex body suits?” I ask, trying to keep a straight face.

“Hell no. I want hot sex. I’m not interested in being taken to dinner, or saran- wrapped for some kinky weirdo. Is there anything wrong to just want to get screwed?”

I shake my head. I can’t believe this woman. She’s already drained her beer and she’s at the fridge getting us two more.

“Well, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that at all,” I say.

“You’re a man. Tell me if I’m being unreasonable. If you saw me on Tinder would
you
want to straight-up screw me?”

I set my beer down. “Um, Ms. Jacoby.”

“Oh, for God’s sake call me Elle.”

“If I was a Tinder guy I’d really want to do that, Elle. But I’m a
take you to dinner and get to know you
kind of guy.”

She laughs loudly and waves her hands toward the ceiling. “Damn, can I get a break! My sprinkler man won’t even screw me!”

I pick my beer back up. “I’m not a sprinkler man.”

She purses her lips together and her smile fades. “I’m sorry . . . I offended you.”

“I’m a landscape architect.”

“That’s so hot.”

I shake my head in reproach. “Remember I’m just helping out my dad until he’s fully mobile again after his surgery. Regardless, fixing irrigation systems is an honorable profession.”

“Right, sorry.” She glides her fingers along the curve of the beer bottle before looking up at me with a coy smile.

“So is sex really all that matters to you?” I ask.

“Maybe it won’t be when I finally get some that’s satisfying.”

Oh, good Lord
. How much restraint can one man be expected to have?

I let out a sigh of regret. “Well, I’d love to help you out but I don’t do casual sex. Been there, done that.”

I square my shoulders after making my declaration. After almost two years of following my abstinence program, I can say I’m confident I’ve moved on from my sex-obsessed ways, but it still makes me cringe with a sense of loss after the words leave my lips.

She pounds her fists on the table. “My timing is always shit. So if I’d met you during your
been there
period you would’ve screwed me?”

“Without a doubt. Screwed is too simple of a word for all the things I would have done to you.”

I take a deep breath and glance over my shoulder at the kitchen layout. “I’d have you bent over your kitchen island as we fucked, or your legs would be wrapped around me as I took you against that wall.”

“You’re killing me here! Are you good in bed?”

“Good?” I smile, remembering those days. “That wasn’t the adjective most women used. What do you think?”

“My guess is a big fat
yes
.”

Leaning back, I stretch out my legs under the table. “Let’s just say, back in the day . . . I’m not ashamed to say I did all right.”

She huffs and folds her arms over her chest. “I bet you did. And I bet you have a big cock too.”

Good Lord, no more beer for her.

My eyes roll back. “You’ve got a filthy mouth.”

“So what. Do you?”

“Have a big cock? Is this information you really need to know?”

She looks down under the table. “Ha! You’ve got big feet!”

Jesus, this woman.

“And you’re so tall.” She grabs my hand. “And you’ve got thick fingers. You know what they say . . .”

I watch her trail her fingers over mine as she gives me a sultry wink.

I lean over, and whisper into her ear, “I’ve got a huge cock.”

She looks drunk with lust as she bites her lip. “Hung like a horse?” she whispers.

“Yep.”

“Oh for God’s sake.” She scoots her chair closer. “Show me.”

Her eyes are twinkling, yet it’s hard to tell if she’s teasing or not.

“Yeah, sure.” I take a long draw from my second beer.

“Come on,” she presses, seeming hopeful.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, besides the fact that that would be a complete violation of my new lifestyle, I’m hard right now. I don’t want to scare you, Elle.”

“Ooo,” she moans.

“Not to mention, you have quite a beer buzz going on and I don’t play that way.”

Her cheeks grow pink as she picks at the label on her beer bottle.

“That’s gallant of you but I don’t think you’d be taking advantage of me, if that’s your concern. Besides, I’m four years older than you. Some people might think I’m taking advantage of a younger man.”

I arch my brow and shake my head.

She tries to peek under the table. “So are you really hard, or are you messing with me?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” I set down my beer. “But I’ve got to go. I’ve got another client’s system to check out, since I’m the sprinkler man and all.”

“You aren’t going to let go of that are you? Is this some kind of cruel punishment?”

“No.” I can’t resist giving her a hard time. “Are you always this direct?”

She blushes an even darker pink. I could totally get addicted to this woman.

“No, since I’ve been single I’m usually just flirty, but as you said, I’ve had a few beers and you’re incredibly handsome . . . I really didn’t expect to look out my window and see a man like you on his knees.”

“So I should be flattered?”

“Absolutely. You caught my eye, and then got me all hot and bothered. How tall are you anyway?”

“Six foot two.”

“And you work out. It’s not just your fine body, it’s your face . . . something about that sharp jawline and your green eyes.” She fans herself. “Oh my.”

“You’re pretty amazing yourself, even if you have a filthy mouth.”

She gets a devilish look in her eyes. “So can you show me your jumbo cock then? I promise not to touch it, so you won’t be breaking your rules.”

What’s in this beer? I’m seriously considering her offer.

“This is the weirdest customer conversation I’ve ever had.”

“
Please
.” She tugs on my index finger and something about that makes my cock harder and weakens my will.

“You’re one pushy woman.”

“If you show me yours . . . I’ll show you mine.” She skims her fingers down between her breasts. “I’ve seen you admiring them.”

That captures my attention but I’m not sure I trust her. “You’re crazy.”

“I may be crazy, but I’ve got great breasts.”

“So tit for tat, or shall I say tit for cock?”

She laughs with delight. “Yes!”

She’s so damn cute when she laughs. I’m going to have to tell Dad about her so he never sends me here again. I’m liking her way too much. I mean, I’m seriously considering showing her my cock and that’s testing my
Abstinence Until Love
program. Who am I kidding? It’s a complete violation.

Still the longer I look at this sexy woman, the weaker I get. My resistance is crumbling like a soft-baked cookie.

She sets down her beer and runs her hands over her breasts slowly.
Damn.
I’m doomed.

Standing, I polish off my beer before I set the empty bottle down on the table. I nod at her. “Well, it’s really hot when you touch your tits but are you going to show me?”

“Are you?” Her eyes grow wide like she can’t believe I’m going to do this.

I narrow my eyes and slowly start to undo my belt. I’m feeling that mind-bending surge of lust from the old days right before I’d score a particularly hot woman. My heart is pounding, and I can’t believe I’m caving.

She runs her fingers along the hem of her tank top and then slowly inches it up. I start to drag my zipper down so I can pull out my cock but it’s not going smoothly. I’m so fucking hard it hurts and it’s making everything tighter. It’s going to take some maneuvering to get it out. The whole time I’m screwing around with the zipper I’m cursing myself inwardly for being so weak willed.

“Do you need help?” She’s grinning like it’s Christmas morning.

If she could only know the kind of help I’m picturing.

I huff. “I can do this. It’s just what we were talking about is making this difficult. If I’d known I’d be playing show ‘n tell I would’ve worn looser jeans.”

She waves her hand at me. “Move your fingers,” she says.

I rest my hands on my hips as she fixes her stare on my crotch.

“What?”

“Oh my God! It’s huge! Is that anaconda in your pants really you?”

“Of course it’s me! What do you think it is?”

“I knew a guy once who stuffed socks down there.”

What do you bet it was her ex?

“Are you serious? What the hell good is that? As soon as your pants are down the jokes on you.”

She shrugs. “Why do women wear padded bras? False advertising I guess. So seriously, is that padding or the real deal?”

“Let me put it this way . . . why would I stuff socks down my shorts to go on a work call? I had no idea you were going to be intrigued by what kind of heat I was packing.”

“Good point.”

I look at her tits that are still covered as I fumble with my zipper again. Her excited nipples are so defined through the fabric that they give the term ‘perky’ new meaning. I have this kid-like compulsion to not show her mine until she shows me hers. It’s ridiculous because at this point I may never get my jeans open. “Well?”

She pulls the fabric up excruciatingly slow as her gaze fixates on my fingers trying to work the zipper further down. When the bottom of her breasts are exposed I start rethinking my
done that
stance. I can already tell that her tits are epic, making me reconsider shifting back into the
been there
category.

Her nipples are hard for me. My cock is hard for her. It all seems so straightforward.

Wait
, what the hell am I doing?

“Hurry and get that bad boy out so I can imagine licking it,” she purrs.

Licking it?
I stare at her mouth and wonder how my dick would look between her pretty lips.

I can picture her on her knees gazing up at me through those thick lashes. My blood starts to boil as I slowly burn for her.

For a second I’m ready to throw all my hard work out the window, but then in my mind I see my dad’s face and it’s jarring—reminding me of my promise to him and to my sponsor. It pains me when I carefully zip my fly back up.

She gives a little pout and fondles her breasts to tease me. “What are you doing? Are you really going to turn me down?”

I close my eyes and chant my oath to myself.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, like the fact that I’ll always be a horny bastard

The courage to change the things I can, like not screwing every broad that asks me to.

And the wisdom to keep my cock in my pants . . .

I open my eyes with renewed resolve.

“Sadly, yes I am.”

She pulls her shirt down low and full-on pouts.

“Believe me, there will be regret. However, I made a promise to my dad and a promise to myself. I used to be completely out of control, but now I’m a reformed man.”

“That sounds so dull.” She sighs and leans forward on her elbows. “I mean, what fun is that?”

“When I meet
the one
, it will be worth the wait. I want what my parents have.”

Her eyes go soft. She glances down at the table and rubs her fingers over the surface deep in thought. When she looks back up at me her eyes are glassy. “I wanted that once and even thought I found it, but I was wrong. I really hope you find it, Paul Junior.”

Her tender reaction makes me think there’s more to her than this vixen. I smile at her. “Thanks, Elle. And I hope you find the right guy to give you all that great sex you deserve.”

Before she lets me out the front door she turns to me, suddenly seeming more sober. She stares in my eyes. “Should I be embarrassed? Maybe it’s the beer, or maybe the heat, but there’s something about you. You brought the wild side out of me.”