𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟏𝟎𝟏 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐗𝐗𝐗

• 30 •

With the wide range of Keenan Travino glares that I keep receiving, I should start rating them: one being just 'Gia, you're annoying', five being 'I'm not saying sorry to an inanimate object', and ten being 'Did you just say that you're leaving after sucking my dick?'

The one before me was a ten out of ten. Frown, check. Steam through his nose, check. Jaw clenched, check. Grumpy old troll eyebrows, check. Do I sound like I'm enjoying myself? I am. Leaning close, I laid a kiss on the corner of his mouth after denying him multiple times of a peck to my lips. "I'm leaving," I repeated, smiling as I pulled away.

Keenan grabbed my wrist before I could turn, "Not safe," he muttered as he pulled me back and unbuttoned my jeans. Then came the zipper. He was doing it casually, weighing the same as lighting one of his cigars. The man tugged my pants down and I watched with sheer entertainment.

"I have a car." I defended lamely. The wet material was dragged down my legs. I lifted one foot and Keenan slid the sleeve off. Same with the other. I got chills when my underwear was discarded too, thrown into the growing wet heap on the floor. "I'm leaving," I repeated, but made no move to prove it.

Keenan grabbed my legs and hauled me on top of him, knees on either side—a mainstream position, though it's common for a reason: its convenience. He pulled my shirt over my head. "Not safe for you nor your taxi." he mumbled, calling my Lemon a taxi.

I put my hands on his shoulders. Keenan held himself up with one hand, spreading my wetness with the tip as the other gripped hard on my hip. With narrow, unentertained eyes, I spoke, "Don't mock my Lemon unless you wanna have to apologize to a yellow car too." I could see it: Keenan Travino holding an umbrella in the middle of a rainy night, saying sorry to a pastel yellow vehicle.

Keenan rolled his eyes to the side. Did I like it? I didn't. With a finger, I tilted his chin up. His eyes were still tired, but the chocolate browns looked like black, twinkling with silver glitters of intrigue. "Don't roll your eyes at me." I told him.

A smile was threatening to form on his lips, but Keenan kept his mouth in a firm line. Then, he rolled his eyes again. My fingers tangled into his brown hair, a few locks light, most of them dark, and some strands gray. Keenan was beautiful—effortlessly in a rugged, roguish way. I watched the small changes in his expression when I slowly sunk down on his lap, length piercing into raw flesh. The man licked his lips, his eyelids flickered, then came a grunt—soft, low, almost like I only imagined it.

His hands held my waist and I pried them away. "Touch me and I stop," I told him, surprising myself with the change in my voice—it was Gia, but a sex-craved, just-woke-up Gia. Then, giving into the want of letting our lips touch, my teeth bit his lower one, tugging and letting go to suck right after. That Janella kiss was really unnecessary.

Then, I moved. Slow at first, lifting myself before landing hard against his hips with a slap of skin. My hands traced the sides of his neck, his shoulders, his collarbones, and his arms before settling on his chest, all the while keeping the agonizing pace. Keenan's hands were gripping the edges of the couch and I wanted to laugh. The man could easily throw me off, flip us over, and have his own way, but chose to play the game with me. I picked up some speed.

I hugged his neck and kept bouncing, throwing my head back with the spine-tingling sensation of once again being fucked raw by Keenan Travino. Then I felt it: a slap to my ass. I stopped and acting on impulse, my fingers wrapped around Keenan's neck. Holy shit was an apposite reaction. No seconds to think about my actions were spared when I stared him down, signature looks switched: a glare on my face and an annoying-ass smile on Keenan's.