For A Good Time, Call... by Jessica Gadziala Read Free Book Online Page B

thrusting forward into my mouth. I felt my body
shudder and his arms moved downward, encircling my back and trapping
my arms to my sides. I was completely at his mercy and I realized
with more than a small shot of fear, that I was completely
comfortable with that.
    Hunter
pulled my body tight against his. I sighed into his mouth, pressing
my tongue into his. Getting lost in the sensations. I felt like I was
floating and drowning at the same time, like I was fully submerged
but free. That's what kissing Hunter felt like: freedom. After a life
of being imprisoned.
    His
teeth grazed my lower lip then started planting soft, quick kisses
over my lips, before they left me entirely. I whimpered and I could
feel his laugh come out as air across the bridge of my nose. He
rested his forehead against mine, still holding me against him.
“So... pasta for dinner?” he asked, infuriatingly calm
while I felt like my body was in utter chaos.
    His
arms slid downward then released me and he pulled the door open,
moving me with it until I stepped out of the way. Was he kicking me
out? It seemed like the sonofabitch was kicking me out.
    Then
he was slowly closing the door and I was sure of it. I was getting
kicked out. What the actual hell?
    I
walked back to my apartment, unlocking the door, closing it, then
collapsing against it.
    So...
that just happened. I slowly slid down to the floor, pulling my legs
to my chest and encircling them. I felt frustration laced through
every fiber of my being. Every bit of me was craving something it
knew I wouldn't give it. Horny was horny, but this felt like more.
This felt stronger. This felt overpowering.
    Maybe
it was because I spend all my time denying the possibility of sex. My
body got used to not having it. It wasn't even an issue anymore. I
dealt with the physical frustration with the aid of my trusty
vibrator.
    But
now I got a taste of what I had been missing out on, what I had
denied myself. And my body was reacting with years worth of repressed
need. My skin felt like it was humming with it. I pressed my thighs
together for a second, a hand going to my lips. If there was ever a
kiss to end the famine, that was the one. A huge feast of a kiss.
    Which
was great and all, but then I was kicked out. Like some common whore.
And that was unacceptable. I heard his door slam shut and the
elevator chime then stood up and made my way to my bedroom. Good.
Leave. I slipped out of my shoes and jeans, then reached in my
nightstand.
    Thank
god for vibrators.
    I
laid down on the bed and twisted it on, closing my eyes and trying to
get lost in the sensation. Trying to ease the aching desire. But ten
minutes later, I brought it into the bathroom, dropping it in the
sink and running the water over it. My O was not going to make an
appearance.
    I
blamed Hunter.
    I
went back to my closet and picked out a quick outfit: a plain tight
black club dress, black tights, and a pair of polka dotted shoes. I
wouldn't go back to the same club as I was at last night. It just
didn't feel right about it. I would go back eventually. Maybe in a
week or two. Besides, I usually didn't do the same place two nights
in a row.
    I
pulled my hair out of its braid, grabbed my wallet, and went to the
door.
    “That's
a little overdressed for pasta and movies, don't you think?”
Hunter asked, standing in the open door holding a brown bag in his
arm.
    I
thought it was canceled. I really did. I wouldn't have gone through
the work of getting changed if I thought we were still on for the
night.
    “I
didn't think we were still doing that.”
    “Why?”
he asked as if genuinely perplexed as to why I would think that. So
kissing your neighbors was totally normal for him then.
    Well,
fine. I could play the 'who can pretend to care less' game. And
what's more... I would win. I had been playing this particular game
my whole life. “I heard you leave,” I said, shrugging a
shoulder.
    “Yeah,
to buy groceries, remember?” he asked, holding up the