His Touch(5)

By: Melinda Minx

“You’ve got this, man. Even though you bailed on me as wingman, I’ll let it slide.”

I roll my eyes. “This is fucking stupid, I shouldn’t--”

Dash shakes his head. “Do what your cock tells you, Hunt. That’s always been my philosophy, and it’s never failed me.”

“What about that time you got the shit kicked out of you by that lady’s husband?”

“It was totally worth it,” Dash says, grinning. “Pussy is always worth it, and the one you’re about to plow into is--”

I shove him. “Watch it, man.”

He cackles. “Shit! She’s already got you wrapped around her finger, huh? Never knew you liked ‘em so young--”

“Two White Russians,” the bartender says, sliding the drinks over.

“Get fucked, Dash,” I say, grinning.

Dash takes a big swig of whisky. “That’s the plan.”

I bring Elise her drink. “You had a White Russian before?”

“Of course,” she says, her voice way too defensive for it to be true.

She takes a small sip, and her eyes widen. “It’s good.”

I nod. “They make good drinks here.”

“What drink should we try next?” she asks me.

An evil grin fills my face, and I say in a low whisper. “Coffee. At my place.”

She chokes on her drink a bit, and she pulls her long hair back behind her ears as she blushes.

“What do you do, Hunt?” she asks, sipping at her drink.

I’ll do whatever you want me to. “It’s boring, and do you really care?”

“You must be pretty good at whatever you do,” she says, looking me up and down.

“Business,” I say. “And yes, I’m very good at it. What about you?”

“I, uh, I’m a student still.”

Please don’t say high school.

“Where?” I ask.

“I just started at NYU,” she says.

I let out a sigh of relief.

She laughs. “Afraid I was still in high school?”

I grin. “Nah, I was just worried you went to Columbia or something. I’m not a fan of that place.”

She laughs. She knows I’m full of shit, but she doesn’t call me on it.

“I’m majoring in business,” she says. “My mom basically forced me to, but I do like it. You probably could give me some good advice and tips, huh?”

I’ve got one tip I can give her, and it’s hard and ready. “Yeah,” I say, “I’m sure I could, but that’s not really what I’m planning for tonight.”

“You don’t want to discuss it over coffee?” she asks, smiling.

“I don’t usually talk much when I’m doing coffee with a woman.”

“How do you like your coffee?” she asks.

I lean in closer to her, and I gently move her hair over her shoulder and run my hand through her dark strands. “Black…”

She bites her lip. “I like mine with extra cream.”

I burst out laughing, and she crosses her arms and pouts at me.

“You’re so fucking--” I start, but she looks so legitimately angry that I stop in mid-sentence.

“You’re so fucking hot,” I say. “You’re…”

I squeeze her arm, and her lips part. She grabs hold of my bicep, and I can feel her trembling through her tight grip.

I lean closer toward her, and she squeezes my arm even harder. She’s scared, but her eyes are telling me “yes.”

I lean in even closer, never breaking eye contact with her. Her lips part even wider, and finally her eyes close. I go in.

Our lips press together, and her taste fills me. I want more, and I slide my tongue right into her mouth without wasting any time.

She freezes in hesitation for a few moments, but soon I feel her tongue warm against mine, and she slides it along my lips. I inhale deep through my nose as I drink up her wet tongue and full lips. I can’t get enough of her taste and her smell.

My hands grip her tiny waist, and her full breasts press into my body as we kiss. I slide a hand along her arm until it’s resting on the bare skin of her back. Her skin is smooth and delicate, and it’s soft as silk. But not as soft as her lips.

I bite her lips gently, and I feel a stifled moan rumble across her throat. Her hand runs up and down my strong, tattooed arm, while she digs her nails into my muscular back with her other.

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