A Betting Man

Chapter Thirty-One

Justin's Point of View

This beautiful girl, with her fingers wound tightly in my hair – fingers which tug and pull and grasp in desperation, unable to find a satisfying purchase anywhere on my body – is almost too much. I've never felt such a lust, such a longing or desire to claim any one person before. And as much as I want to take things slowly, to adhere to her internal wishes even when she can't, I find myself equally lacking in self-control.

I push her against the wall, kissing every inch of exposed, smooth skin that I can find. As soon as my shorts are pushed past my hips, my cock springs free and is instantly grasped by her small, warm hand. I hiss against her shoulder.

"Fuck, Addie," I pant. This encourages her, making her grip tighter, and she slides her hand slowly up and down my shaft.

I don't think I've ever been harder in my life.

We stay like this for a moment, me kissing and panting against her skin while she pumps her hand up and down my cock. I'm desperate to be inside of her, so much so that I envision myself turning her around and taking her right here on the patio. Or else slipping her bikini out of the way and hoisting her around my hips, where she'll fit easily around me as I claim her against the wall.

But I want to do this right – to do one thing right – so I reach a blind hand out and eventually yank the back door open. I lay my hand across hers, regrettably causing it to still.

"Let's go inside, baby," I murmur against her lips, urging her along, but we never disengage as she backs through the doorway and pulls me with her. I have to pull my swim trunks back up so that I can walk, but Addie's breasts remains exposed and at my disposal. I eventually reach around and pull the tie, causing the entire top to loosen and spring open, and she quickly pulls the tiny bit of fabric over her head before callously tossing it aside.

We're suddenly going at it in the kitchen, just as urgently as on the patio, and I'm not sure how we're ever going to make it to the bedroom at this rate. When she tries to slip her hand inside my shorts again, I stop her.

"The stairs, baby, the stairs," I urge her. Otherwise, I'm going to take her right here on the fucking kitchen table.

She nods in understanding and rushes to the staircase, pulling me along, but as soon as we hit the first step there's a loud, frantic knocking at the front door.

We both freeze. My heart is hammering madly, and Addie's wide eyes seek mine.

"Who the hell is that?" she breathes, alarmed. They're knocking like the goddamn police, and the first thought that enters my mind is that someone took offense to a free peep show of me and Addie on the porch. But could the police really get here that fast?

Addie whips around me to retrieve her bathing suit from the floor, quickly making sure everything is covered.

"Just wait for me upstairs," I tell her, vowing to get rid of this intruder as quickly as possible. She nods, giving me one last searching look, and disappears up the steps.

The intruder is knocking again when my hand turns the doorknob. And to my surprise, it's my old, widowed neighbor, Mrs. Cope.

I instantly wonder if she somehow received a free peep show, but her relief says otherwise.

"Justin! Thank heavens. Will you please come quick? My entire house is flooding!"

I have no idea what she's talking about, but my dick is softening and she's insisting I go with her. I yell to Addie that I'll be right back and follow her out the door. She walks with a purpose, easily scaling my yard and then hers, and goes on and on about how her son lives fifteen minutes away and how her house will be under water by the time he gets here.