Three's Company

57. Selfish

Oil her hair, she thought, yep, that told her right then and there that they were too comfortable with one another.

"That's exactly what I was thinking." She replied sarcastically. "God, you really know how to get a woman hot and bothered."

Heath rose a brow, perplexed. "But you wanna relax, no? I thought you like it when you have oil massaged in your hair, it puts you to sleep so quickly."

"I don't want to sleep, you idiot."

"Oh, okay." His fingers caressed the silk material of her dress, analysing her sultry features. "Wanna play cards again?"

"Oh my god," She thumped a hand against his chest roughly, "you're so infuriating sometimes!"

Getting off of him, she got off the sofa before she was sinking her knees into the plush rug beneath her feet.

He watched in confusion, only coming to the realisation when her steady hands reached out to grab ahold of the band of his pants and boxers in one. She tugged hard, letting it snap against his skin.

"Oh." Then he was choking on his own spit, coughing out. "Oh. You want that kind of distraction?"

Her stare was deliberate and full of carnal desire.

He weighed the options and tried to reason with himself, it was probably not wise to do anything of the sort. They were in the process of healing and, well. Shit. Well, what exactly?

Maybe a little preview wouldn't hurt, after all.

Before he could shake some dignity back into him, her sexy fucking voice circled his ears. "Take it off."

Holy fucking shit.

Yeah, no, fuck his goddamn dignity. He was sure he didn't have any in the first place.

He would make to behave correctly in the morning, he thought as he leaned forward a little.

He had been craving to touch her since the first night, it was getting harder and harder to hold off – pun most definitely intended.

His fingers hooked into the neckline of cotton shirt from behind his head, and he peeled it off in a split second. He then moved to his hips, raising his thighs off the sofa so that he could push his pants down. When they came to the middle of his thighs, her dainty hands took over and she pulled them down the rest of his legs until she yanked them off fully.

For a second he was struck dumb, and then carefully, quietly spoke. "You're in control, beautiful. This is all you. If you wanna stop, we stop. If you want more, you decide it. Let me hear you say it." He licked his dry lips, moistening them. "Who's in control?"

"Me."

"Who?"

Mona's laugh was winsome and girly. "Mona." She said more firmly, before her eyes took in his hard pulsing cock.

"Mm, yeah. That's right. Mona Khadijah El-Issa."

If he was being honest, he needed this. Badly.

It was killing him. Everything she did turned him on, he knew it was fucked but he couldn't help it. She could breathe heavily and that would be enough for him to go raging hard.

Take this morning for example, he walked into the kitchen to find her on tip-toes as she attempted to grab something off the top shelf, it caused her skirt to lift invitingly a few inches and he caught a glimpse of the stocking tops she had on. His cock pulsed at the sight.

For an hour straight he had a hard on until he was forced to dismiss himself and lock himself in the shower where he fisted himself at the sight of her fucking stockings.