How to Stay Out of Prison: A Modern-Day Woman's Guide

Chapter 12

Nixon~

It was probably super insensitive of me, but I knew that I couldn't fix her self-esteem issues tonight, so I was willing to compromise and do whatever it took to make her comfortable enough to let me fuck her; I would work on her self-confidence tomorrow.

Then the next day.

Then the day after that if I needed to.

Then for the rest of our lives if she wasn't magically cured of her insecurities by the day after next.

Her eyes were full of so many emotions that she looked sweet and endearing. "You still want to do this?"

I reached down, grabbed both of our shirts, then quickly threw mine back on. When I started pulling her shirt back down over her head, I said, "Hell, yeah, I still want to do this."

"But...but I just spazzed out on you," she informed me as if I hadn't been here to witness it. "Why aren't you running away like any sane man would?"

Tugging on the hem of her shirt to make sure that she was covered again, I looked into her eyes, then said, "Because your sexy outweighs your crazy?" I voiced it like a question, and the girl didn't disappoint.

Her little hands started flailing at my chest like a flapping bird. "Get out," she snapped. "Get the hell out of my house, you jerk."

Instead of conceding to her wishes, I grabbed both of her wild hands with one hand, then wrapped my other hand around her waist, turning her until I had her pushed up against the wall. I had her caged in with her cheek pressed against the wall, my body covering her entire back.

My right hand had a death grip on her hands-because, well...she was crazy-but my left hand was already snaking its way down her stomach, over her pelvis, and it didn't stop until it was nestled in between her thighs.

Now, while most guys would do almost anything to get laid, I wasn't most guys. Of course, don't get me wrong; nothing on this earth felt better than sinking your dick into a warm, wet, willing pussy, but I didn't lose my mind if it's been longer than a month.

So, I wasn't manhandling Lyrical because I needed to get laid, or now that I'd had her tit in my mouth, I felt like she owed it to me to follow through. No. I was manhandling this nutjob because she'd been so spectacularly vulnerable when she'd asked if she could put her shirt back on that I couldn't think of anything else but trying to make this woman see herself through my eyes. For the most part, I was an asshole and not very people-friendly, but something about Lyrical called to the part of me that wasn't a complete dick. The part that I reserved for my friends and family wanted to get to know Lyrical.

I started rubbing her center through the fabric of her simple cotton pants, and I could feel the heat from her pussy warming my fingers. Now, while I did imply that I wouldn't cut my arm off for some sex, having my hand between Lyrical's thighs, feeling the heat coming off her, had me damn near in a frenzy.

Lyrical immediately stopped struggling when I started rubbing her pussy, and she let out the sweetest, softest, sexiest moan. "Oh, God..."

"Here's the thing, Lyrical," I said, my voice a whisper next to her ear. "I don't care if you are crazy. I don't care about anything other than getting inside that sweet, hot, tight pussy of yours." She rubbed her ass against my groin, and I took that as a positive sign. "And if we have to be damn near fully clothed to make that happen, then that's what we're going to do."

"Nixon..."

I didn't give her a chance to argue with me-which, let's face it, odds were that she was going to-before I was releasing her crazy hands, then unbuttoning her pants, pulling down her zipper next. My right hand was inside her panties within milliseconds, and my fingers were already parting her slick folds, tunneling their way inside her pussy.