Mister O

Damn her. I grin ear to ear. I love these pencils. They are just the motherfucking bomb.

I grab a sheet of paper and sketch out a simple dog, laughing, as if he’s chuckling at a joke his master told. I snap a photo and send it to her. I keep the bow, placing it in a kitchen drawer. I don’t know why. It’s too small to be of any use in the bedroom. But I save it anyway.

I pull on a pair of basketball shorts, drop my laundry bag and the new detergent with the doorman to send out for cleaning, and head to the gym a few blocks away, where I log several sweaty miles on the treadmill and do a long round of weights. An hour and a half later, I open the door to my apartment as my phone buzzes with a reply from her, under the new nickname I gave her in my contacts.

Princess: I see you’re enjoying your new pencils. Meanwhile, I’m enjoying a pint of mint chocolate chip. It tastes sooooo good.





I stop in my tracks. Not because the text is dirty, but because I’m picturing her eating ice cream and imagining how her mouth tastes.



Cone or spoon? I need the full licking visual.



Her reply comes quickly.

Princess: I’m licking a spoon right now.





Mint chocolate chip tastes good licked off other things, too.

Princess: Is this a lesson now in how to eat ice cream?





Actually, this is your first lesson in dating. Starting tonight. How to send a flirty text . . . Mint chocolate chip ice cream tastes so good licked off someone you like . . .



She doesn’t respond right away, so I leave the phone on the kitchen counter, but I can’t stop thinking about her and ice cream and how the cool of the mint and the sweetness of the chocolate would mingle on her tongue. How she’d taste different than she did after Speakeasy, but still just as alluring. How I could drive her wild with a kiss that didn’t stop, that made her knees weak and her panties damp. One that turned her on so much that she’d break the kiss to lick her way down my chest, to the waistband of my shorts, yanking them off. She’d raise that sexy eyebrow, lick her lips, then get them intimately acquainted with my dick.

In case there was any question, yes, I’m hard as fuck right now.

Actually, if we’re going to get technical, I’m pretty sure this is the textbook definition of pitching a tent. My dick aches for attention. I’m so wound up from wanting this girl I can’t have, and this boner isn’t going to fade gently into the night.

I strip out of my gym clothes and head straight for my shower, turning the water as hot as I can handle. Considering I think even her eyebrows are sexy, I clearly need to get this girl out of my system. An unapologetic, no-holds-barred shower jerk will do the job.

The power spray setting works best for that. I adjust the mode selector, and water pours down, wetting my hair, sliding down my chest, running over the ink on my arms.

Since I’m not going to have Harper for real, maybe I won't be so fucking aroused around her all the time if I give her a thorough workout in my mind. She’s been in the shower with me many times, and she gives great head in here. With her banging little body and smart, sexy mouth, she’s played a starring role in a handful of shower jerks during the last few months. Maybe more than a handful. Like ten helping handfuls. Or ten times that.

But who’s counting when your hand is full?

Not me, that’s for damn sure.

As steam fills the bathroom, I wrap my hand around my hard-on in a nice, long, lingering tug.

I let out a breath.

A reel of images flashes in front of me, and this is so easy, since I see the world in pictures. The hottest ones snap before my eyes as my fist curls tighter.

Her crawling across my bed on her hands and knees, wearing nothing but those fuck-me glasses.

Her unbuttoning her shirt, spreading it open, revealing her luscious tits to me. Tits I’d love to fuck.

My blood runs hot, and a shudder races through me as that particular picture fights its way to the front of the line. I stroke up and down my shaft as I thrust between those delicious breasts. She’d push the soft flesh together with her hands, creating a warm valley for my dick. Her tongue would dart out, licking the head on each stroke.

I draw a shaky breath as my hand slides along my length, imagining Harper’s mouth on me instead. Tonight I’d like her on her knees, the red lips that say those dirty things wrapped around my dick while she sucks, licks, and takes me deep.

I groan, and the sound is swallowed by the relentless pounding of the hot water on the tiles. I stroke harder and faster, desire flaring in my muscles, skating over my skin as I see her in all her naked beauty, pleasuring me. Then, out of nowhere, the images flip.