I discreetly peek at the latest message, and my breath hitches.
Him: My dick is so hard right now. I’m dying to be inside u.
I don’t indulge him this time. If I don’t respond, he’ll eventually stop, right?
Wrong.
The messages keep popping up, each one filthier than the last.
Gonna take it slow next time. Savor every single second.
So fucking slow, baby. Just slide in and out of your tight pussy…
Until you’re begging for more.
I grab my glass and choke down some water. I’m aware of Dean’s soft chuckle, audible even with the music blasting in the bar.
I won’t give u what u want, tho. I’ll keep feeding u my cock, inch by inch.
And then I’ll take it away again.
Every time u beg me to pound into u, I’ll go even slower.
Gonna torment that sweet pussy all nite, baby.
All. Fucking. Night.
I shoot to my feet like someone lit a fire under my ass. “I need to use the ladies’ room,” I blurt out.
Ignoring the broad grin stretching Dean’s infuriatingly sexy mouth, I dart away from the booth as fast as my high-heeled boots can carry me.
Fuckity fuck. I’m so turned on my thighs are actually sticking together, and I’m worried there might be a wet spot on the back of my jeans. To make matters worse, Megan hadn’t even made a dent in her drink, which means we won’t be leaving any time soon. Which means I need to collect my composure and extinguish every spark of desire that’s burning like jet fuel through my blood.
I hope to God that Dean quits sexting me when I get back.
If he doesn’t, there’s a good chance I might orgasm at the table.
*
He keeps sexting.
I keep ignoring him.
Our battle of wills lasts for more than an hour, and I can’t say I’m not impressed by his persistence. Not to mention the sheer amount of dirty words he has in his vocabulary.
When I notice Dean visibly squirming on his side of the booth, I flash him a cheeky grin and finally text him back.
Me: Ur just torturing yourself, honey-pie. Better stop b4 the blue balls set in.
I punctuate that with two emojis that seem fitting for the situation—a pair of blue circles.
Dean sighs and rises to his feet, but not before he does some strategic rearranging down below. I think I’m the only one who sees him do it, and my smile grows impossibly wider.
“I’m going to change up these tunes,” he tells the group. “Whoever keeps putting on Aerosmith rock ballads is bumming the hell outta me.”
As he walks off, my eyes betray me by homing in on his backside. His black pants hug his taut buttocks like a glove, which makes me wonder, are cargo pants usually that tight? I didn’t think they were. Maybe Dean has a tailor on retainer who makes him special cargo pants that show off his ass? That seems like something he would do, vain bastard that he is.
Either way, his ass is yummy. Damn it, everything about him is yummy. I can’t help but admire the way his broad shoulders fill out his long-sleeve Under Armor shirt, or how his blond hair is the perfect amount of tousled. Then I lose him in the crowd, and I feel a flicker of relief because now that he’s out of sight, I have some time to get my raging hormones under control. The respite is brief, though. When he returns to the booth, he’s still as gorgeous as ever and I’m still a horny bundle of nerves.
He resettles in his seat just as the current song ends and the opening strains of Dean’s selection blare out of the speakers.
It’s Cheap Trick’s “I Want You To Want Me.”
I can’t stop a burst of laughter, which earns me a strange look from Fitzy. “Did I miss the punchline?” he asks.
“Nope. Sometimes I just laugh for no reason,” I say flippantly. “I’m weird like that.”
Megan pipes up. “It’s true. She is.”
I swallow another laugh and avoid Dean’s eyes as his song continues to play. I’m not surprised when my phone vibrates.
Him: I could’ve gone with something a lil more subtle. But why play games? I’m goddamn aching for u, Allie.
Shit, he called me Allie. He means business.
I lift my head, and the intensity burning in his gaze makes my heart stutter, then propels it into a hard gallop. Dean is already insanely attractive to begin with, but when he’s turned on? He’s absolutely spectacular.
With his smoky green eyes at half-mast, lips parted slightly, strong throat working as he swallows, I can almost believe he is aching. That he’s truly in physical pain from wanting me so bad. But this is Dean, for crying out loud. He probably springs a boner if a light breeze floats over his crotch. Seriously, just bump into him and you get him hard. The guy is obsessed with sex, and half the girls at this school can attest to that, because half the girls at this school have slept with him.