His need to feel my skin touch his was something he’s needed from the very beginning, and I know it’s because he feels the closest when our bodies are touching so intimately, but right now, all it was doing was turning me on even more.

I was a sexual being and not being able to ride the fucking bologna pony to pleasure town was torture; it actually made it hard for me to breathe.

Did I say hard to breathe, no, I meant it made it hard to keep my finger out of my vagina.

Fuck, I was so horny, and being on top of Jett, with his hand stroking my hair and him just breathing me in had my pussy wetter than a fucking typhoon blowing up a flesh valley. My hip occasionally would rub against his, and I could feel his hardness, his beautiful cock against my thigh. What I wouldn’t give to see that cock right now, to feel it in my hands, to torture him with my fingers, with my tongue.

It would be so easy, I would just start lightly grazing him, letting him know that, yeah, I was interested. Maybe tease him a little by wrapping my fingers all the way around his cock, but then pulling away to keep him on his toes. But, fuck, I couldn’t pull away for too long because I wouldn’t be able to stay away. So, I would return, but this time, I would apply more pressure, running my fingers along the veins that would be now showing from how turned on he was. I would…

“Goldie,” he whispered in a strained voice. “What are you doing?”

“Laying here, what are you doing?” I asked, confused as to why all of a sudden his body was stiff.

“I’m wondering why your fingers are wrapped around my cock.”

Testing my left hand, I felt it under my body out of the danger zone, but when I went to locate my right hand, I found it under Jett’s briefs, squeezing his cock.

“Jesus,” I muttered, as I pulled my hand away and reprimanded my rogue appendage for misbehaving. “Umm, just making sure you still had a dick. It’s been some time, you know, just wanted to make sure things didn’t fall off,” I mumbled, as I scooted off of him and back to my side of the bed.

Skin on skin contact was a bad idea. No, it was the worst idea in the world because right now, every last inch of me was tingling, my hands were itching to go back into the dark cave of Jett’s briefs, to test his cock one more time, to see if it was just as hard as I thought it was.

Instead of turning toward him, I flipped on my back and stared at the ceiling, waiting for him to say something. He shifted on the bed and drew closer; he knew exactly what he was doing, he was enticing me, trying to get me to crack.

It was working.

He smelled so good, like he took a two hour bath in pheromones and forgot to dry off. The urge to hump his leg, to drool all over his chest, to stuff his cock in every orifice I had, including my belly button was overpowering. Something was going to happen; the pull was too strong. I needed something from him, a little touch, a little taste. My pussy was begging for it.

“Can you not be so close to me?” I snapped, while I pulled on the blankets and wrapped them up around my chin to try to block the delicious smell of the man and keep a protective blanket layer between us. I practically swaddled myself to keep from having any more villainous hand expeditions.

Fucking phalanges, can’t trust them, can’t live without them.

“I’m sorry, do you want me to leave?” Jett asked, all sweet and concerned.

I wanted to flip him off, to punch him in the crotch, and kick him square on the shin.

No, I didn’t want him to leave. That would be saying, “No, ma’am, I don’t want the corn dog that’s made out of gold,” or something to that effect. What I wanted was for him to have never fucked things up between us because if he was able to control his temper, his psychotic-ness, then we wouldn’t be in this mess. I wouldn’t be sexually frustrated, and I wouldn’t be wavering between wanting to poke him with a fire stick and letting him poke me with his stick.

What a predicament.

Without saying another word, Jett started to get out of the bed, making me want to scream at the absurdity of the situation.

“Ugh, don’t fucking go,” I said in an annoyed tone.

“That’s convincing,” Jett responded with a half-smile.

“Stop it, just stop it,” I demanded, while poking him in the chest. “God, I’m so annoyed with you right now. You’re acting all sweet when I need to be mad at you. I want to be mad at you.”

“But, you’re not…”

“I am! It’s just that, my horniness is taking over. I can’t think clearly when your rock hard body is pressed against mine. Do you really think that’s fair, Jett?”

“Fair? Are you serious right now? You’re wearing a thin tank top with no bra and you were just laying on top of me. I could feel every movement of your nipple against my chest, and then you go and grab my dick like you’re digging around for gold. Do you think that’s fair?”

“Oh, poor rich billionaire, a girl was fondling your dick,” I said in a smarmy voice. “Grow a real problem.”

“You’re quite sassy tonight.”

“No, Jett. I’m horny,” I sat up and pulled the sheets down. I pointed at my crotch and said, “There is a dried up lady cactus down there; she hasn’t been cleaned out and rehydrated in weeks. She’s desperate.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

Refraining from smacking him on the head, I held my hands down and said, “Oh, you’re just enjoying this all too much, aren’t you?”

“Just a little,” he admitted, but held up his hands before I could go bat shit crazy on his ass. “I only admit to that because, ever since I met you, you’ve been a maneater, teasing me, disobeying me, making my life that much more difficult in the bedroom, so it’s a fresh breath of air to see you struggle.”

“Oh, is that right? You like to see me struggle? Fine!”

Without a word, I stuck my hand down my shorts and found my clit, not even giving him a warning. I started playing around with the little beast that’s been tormenting me the past couple of weeks.

A low growl escaped Jett as he watched me finger myself. Ha, take that, you fucker!

He watched me with determination, and when I thought I’d cracked him, when I thought he was going to lose that stone veneer, he pulled his boxer briefs down, freed his erection, and started stroking himself while he watched me.

Tou-fucking-che.

Instantly, my eyes flew to his cock, where his hand squeezed tightly around his shaft and pulled on it, tugged the fuck out of it, and then rounded the head of his cock with precision.

My mouth filled with saliva as I watched what he was doing with fascination. Every stroke of his hand hardened his length, and a small glisten of moisture formed at the tip of his beautiful cock.

Oh, hell.

Like a razor to a stray pube, I felt myself move toward him. Fuck, I was gross. Note to self, don’t use that analogy again.

His eyes were trained on me as I moved closer; he knew exactly what he was doing; he knew he was enticing me, and damn if it wasn’t working. I only had so much willpower, and the minute Jett took off almost all of his clothes, my last shred of willpower was used. It was only in time that I found myself moving closer and closer to him.

“You’re not playing fair,” I said.

“Hey, I’m only participating in what you started. You can’t play with fire, Little One.”

“How am I playing with fire?” I asked, while I ran my hand up his leg, making his breathing pick up.

“You know damn well what you’re doing.”

“And, like you don’t know what you’re doing? You think I can sit next to you and just watch you touch yourself and not be intrigued? I might be mad at you, but I still want you.”

With a smirk, Jett nodded at me and said, “Prove it.”

It was his bait; he was trying to get what he wanted, but hell if I wasn’t a stupid flopping fish because I grabbed right ahold of his bait and let him reel me in.