Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

John

When I get to my bedroom, I pace back and forth in front of my computer, knowing I should not do what I’m about to do. With my cock lodged in my jeans like a damn missile, however, I have no choice. I’m more primed to fuck than I’ve ever been in my life. Blood pounds in my temples and my hands fist, unfurl, fist again.

What I wouldn’t give to have Lyssa lying on my bed right now, blonde hair spread out on my comforter, tits spilling out of her pushup bra. I wouldn’t even bother taking her panties off, I’d just rip a hole in them and feed my dick home. Later. Later, I’d eat her pussy like nobody’s business. I’d make her cream on my tongue so many times, she’d lose count. But I’m a man possessed right now. The need to claim her with a hard fuck is burning me from the inside out.

I rake a hand down my face and release a pained laugh. How the hell is this happening? I’ve never wanted a female for my own—and the first and only time it happens, she’s posing as my son’s girlfriend. Worse, I can’t let them know I’m in on the ruse without possibly jeopardizing my relationship with Mason.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter, taking off my shirt and hurling it toward the hamper.

I’m only capable of resisting another five seconds before I unzip my jeans, finally freeing my pulsing erection. I sit down in front of the computer, my fingers hesitating over the keys momentarily before pulling up Instagram and searching Lyssa’s handle—and there she is. So beautiful and bright and young, she makes me feel energized and way too old at the same time. I should be shot for fantasizing about the girl cooing over a puppy in one picture, laughing in another while someone out of frame presents her with a birthday cake, complete with candles.

Nonetheless, I find the picture I’m looking for. The one of her kneeling in the sand at the beach, unpacking sandwiches from a cooler. She’s barely covered in an emerald green thong bikini, her ass cheeks round and spankable. Whoever is taking the picture made her turn her head and laugh, brightening the world around her. She’s a goddamn angel, glowing in the sun.

I’m going to murder whoever touched her.

I’m going to track them down and end them in her honor.

There won’t be a single trace left behind.

I’ll visit her in New York after it’s done, find her in a park some afternoon while she’s studying and tell her she’s safe now…

My head falls back and I grip my dick, yanking on it roughly, base to head.

Christ help me, I’m sick. I’m stroking off to the thought of her looking up at me like I’m her hero. Throwing her arms around my neck and letting me hold her. Letting me rock our bodies together, knowing it’s wrong. Knowing we shouldn’t—

A loud crashing sound above my head freezes my blood.

When I hear a distinctly feminine squeal, my cock is stowed and I’m already halfway to the door, sprinting up the stairs two at a time. Lyssa’s whimpers alert me to which bedroom is hers and I burst inside, ready to strangle whoever scared her with my bare hands. My usual logic has deserted me. All I can think is she’s in danger and I have to save her.

So when I find her huddled naked in the shower—very much alone—I’m extremely relieved, but definitely confused. At least until she points a shaking finger in the direction of the still-running shower nozzle. “Spider. Huge. Huge. Get it, get it, get it. Oh my God. Please.”

Something happens that hasn’t taken place in a long time.

I laugh.

It climbs my rusted throat and cracks like lightning, echoing off the walls of the tiny room. Lyssa’s back snaps straight, her nose in an indignant wrinkle. “Don’t you dare laugh.”

“Sorry.” I hold up my hands and approach the shower, calling on my honor so I won’t ogle her naked. My honor must be out to lunch, though, because my eyes can’t help but catalogue her wet shoulders, shapely thighs—and hell, that sweet, hairless pussy peeking out from between her bent legs. Son of a bitch.

My kingdom for one lick.

Forcing myself to focus on the task at hand—spider removal—I spot the culprit dangling behind the shower head. “Shit, he is pretty big,” I comment, reaching into the shower to turn off the water—which is ice cold.

“I told you. He has at least seventeen eyes.”

I open the shower window, cup my hand around the ugly motherfucker and shoo him out onto the sill, closing the window behind him. “All gone.”

She shivers. “Thank you.”

Hating the fact that she’s cold, I nab the closest towel and wrap her in it, lifting her out of the shower basin. On the way to the bedroom, I count the droplets of water on her eyelashes, study the indent in the center of her bottom lip, and generally pine for this gorgeous girl I should be keeping at arm’s length. It doesn’t help that she’s ogling my bare chest like she wants to touch it, taste it. Doesn’t help when she glances up at me like some kind of hero. I want to be her hero.

Instead of leaving her and going back downstairs—like I know I should—I lean down and press a kiss to her temple, saying gruffly, “You want to tell me why you needed to take a cold shower?”

Her gaze evades mine. “That’s how I like them.”

“Is that right?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“You’re about the worst liar I’ve ever met, sweetness. And I’ve met plenty.”

Her chin drops. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

Reluctantly, I settle Lyssa onto her feet, but we make no move to separate. Her bare toes brush mine, my palms chafe the terry cloth at her hips. “Calling you a bad liar is one of the highest compliments I can give you. Means you’ve got a good heart…” My attention falls to her mouth. “And a tongue that doesn’t like being deceptive.”

“Oh,” she whispers. “I guess I’ll let you get away with it, then.”

I chuckle quietly. Damn she’s cute. “What sort of compliments do boys usually give you?”

She pulls her towel more securely around her. “Boys don’t really interest me.” Her head jerks back when she realizes her error. “I mean, b-besides Mason. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” I drawl.

“And speaking of Mason…” Her swallow is audible, her focus back on my bare torso. “You probably shouldn’t be in my room right now without a shirt on. I-I’m in a towel. Someone could get the wrong idea.”

“What idea is that?”

“That you and I are…”

I bend my head, pressing my mouth to her ear. “Dying to fuck each other?”

“Oh man,” she complains. “You had to say it out loud, didn’t you?”

“We’re both thinking it, Lyssa. Both feeling it.” I’m suddenly desperate to get the truth out of her. I don’t want to goad her into betraying my son’s trust, but this whole situation is absurd. We’re aching for each other and can’t give in because of their damn charade. I resent anything and everything that is keeping me from Lyssa. My body, my heart, my mind all know she’s mine. The universe sent her to me and I hate the fucking obstacle in our path to being together. Obliterating obstacles is kind of my thing, but eliminating this one comes at a high price. “Got a question for you.”

“Okay,” she murmurs warily.

I point toward the still-open bedroom door. “Why are you and Mason sleeping in separate bedrooms?”

“He’s writing his econ paper!” Lyssa sputters.

I take hold of Lyssa’s towel where it’s knotted, using my hold to turn her around and pin her against the bedroom wall. “Lyssa…” I groan while looking her over, head to toe. “I’d fail the goddamn class before I lost one night of being balls deep in that little pussy.”

Her mouth forms an O, cheeks pink. “That’s no way to speak to a lady.”

“You going to pretend I’m not making you wet? That’s a lot of pretending for one day.” My lust takes control of my actions, one hand lifting to unknot her towel and throw it down on the floor. “Should we find out the truth?”

Lyssa gasps, pupils dilating with excitement. “Y-you can’t…” Her fingernails scrape through my chest hair, down to my stomach, before scrubbing back up, rubbing my pecs. “We can’t.”

“We could.” My mouth hovers above hers, so close I can taste her delicious breath. “If you were honest with me.”

She hesitates to respond, but she’s wetting my lips anxiously, begging without words for a kiss.

“Maybe you need some practice being honest with me, Lyssa.” I trail my fingertips over her hip to her belly button, teasing the soft skin there before venturing lower to the juncture of her thighs. When I part the folds of her pussy with my middle finger and wetness spills down past my knuckle to my palm, I almost come in my jeans. “You’re soaked, sweetness,” I growl, teasing the entrance of her cunt with the pad of my finger. “That’s an undisputable truth. Repeat it back to me.”

“I’m soaked,” she whimpers, arching her back off the wall, presenting me her lush tits. “I-I’m soaked. Can you…”

Yes. I’ll give you anything you want in this world.“Can I what, Lyssa?” I ask, rimming her clit with excess moisture and making her moan.

Her eyes beg me for relief in the most innocent way. Like she has no idea what relief entails. “Can you make the throbbing go away?”

It takes my last reserve of willpower not to yank her off the wall, throw her on the bed and mount her sweet body. To show her, yes, the hell I can. Over and over again. But her guileless question has just made something else very obvious. Something I hadn’t considered until now. “Are you a virgin, Lyssa?”

“Who me? No way!”

Irritated over another obvious lie, I crowd her against the wall. Hard. I stamp my mouth down over hers to trap any screams—then I push my middle finger inside her. “Ahhh, Christ,” I grit out, as soon as her cry of surprise fades. “This pussy here is as virgin as they come, sweetness. Tighter than fuck, just begging for me to take it on its maiden voyage.” I twist my finger until I find her G-spot and tease it. “Now, you’re going to practice being honest with John. Tell me you’re a tight, little virgin girl.”

Her head thrashes on the wall. “I…I’m…”

“Say it or I’ll let you keep throbbing.”

“No! No.” She licks her swollen lips. “I’m a tight, little virgin girl.”

My cock jerks painfully in my jeans. “No one’s been inside you.” Least of all my son.

“No one,” she sobs, running her hands up to my shoulders and clinging, her perfect pussy starting to pump and thrust against my hand. “John, please. Why do you make me feel like this?”

“I’m your man, Lyssa.” I lick the side of her neck, obsessed with the flutter of her pulse on my tongue. “And you’re the one I didn’t even know I was waiting for. Not until you had the nerve to walk into my house with this unfucked pussy and tell me it’s not mine. I should redden your ass.”

“Later, okay? D-d-don’t stop what you’re doing.” Her teeth start to chatter and her green eyes shoot wide with wonder. My hand is drenched with her lust. She’s the most beautiful creature ever to walk the earth, especially when her thighs start to tremble and she goes for broke riding my hand. “Oh. Oh! John.”

I coax her into a kiss, intending to swallow her screams. I’ve never been much for kissing anyone. But as soon as my tongue is inside her mouth and she’s giving me access to explore, I’m eating at her mouth like a hungry animal. I’ll never be able to live without kissing Lyssa again. It’s an instantaneous habit. Goddamn, nothing is sweeter than the feminine whimpers being released onto my tongue, her lips sexy and plump, writhing over mine.

I need to come.

Oh God, her mouth is my fucking end.

With a guttural sound, I take my finger out of Lyssa’s cunt, spin her around toward the wall and reach over her hip, shoving two fingers this time inside of her wet, dripping pussy. “Get up on your toes,” I growl into her neck. “Couple of humps of that ass and I’m going to blast off in my pants. Your mouth did that, little girl.”

Conforming my lap to her firm tush, I pump my fingers into her slick hole in time with the drives of my lower body. I’m tucked right in between the tight crack of her ass, nothing but denim separating us. My forearm wraps around her belly and lifts Lyssa off the ground, humping her furiously into the wall while finger fucking her. My other hand clamps over her mouth, because I can feel her poised on the edge of a climax, same as me.

“Mine,” I growl in her ear. “Mine, mine, fucking mine.”

It gratifies me like nothing else when claiming her out loud is the final push she needs to orgasm. Her body twists between me and the wall, her screams trapped by my cupped palm, her ass wiggling and rubbing all over my aching cock until it finally gives up the battle of a lifetime and give my balls permission to erupt. “Fuuuuuck,” I groan, darkness and light exchanging places over and over in front of my eyes. Hot, sticky come shoots into the fly of my jeans and down the legs—and still I roll my hips, refusing to give up a single second of the pleasure Lyssa’s body provides. “You work that ass so nice for me, sweetness. All over my big cock. God, you’re making me come like a motherfucker. You and that mouth.”

Finally, my climax to end all climaxes ebbs and Lyssa goes limp against me. I start to settle her onto her feet, but hold her tight when I realize she’s completely boneless. Passed out.

Almost stupefied by affection, I turn her around gently, picking her up to cradle her against my chest. My heart goes crazy inside my chest looking down at her flushed, sleeping face and I want with my entire soul to sleep beside her, but…

I can’t do that.

Christ, I can’t do that.

Not without coming clean to my son and telling him I’m in love with Lyssa. We’ve already crossed the line, but both Lyssa and Mason deserve better than me sneaking around. I have to do this right. Even if it means having the conversation about Mason’s sexuality earlier than he intended.

But how could I have predicted Lyssa? Or the way she’s consumed me?

I lay her down on the bed carefully and cover her with the comforter, taking a few greedy minutes to memorize the beauty of this girl sleeping. Then I close the door to her room and walk down the hall to Mason’s room. Knocking yields no results, so I open the door and look inside, finding him sleeping, too.

My confession will have to wait until tomorrow morning.

Too bad I never get the chance.