Chapter 1: The Setup and the Stare
The console controller was still warm in my hands, but the game had been forgotten the second Amelia stretched. It was a slow, deliberate arch of her back, her arms reaching for the ceiling, and the hem of that impossibly short skirt riding up. Way up.
The lamplight caught the slickness between her legs.
My breath snagged in my throat. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. The dark, neat curls of her bush were right there, and the skin around them glistened. My mouth went dry.
She held the stretch, a satisfied groan rumbling in her chest, before letting her arms drop and fixing me with those smoky grey eyes. That perpetual smirk was wider now, knowing. “You clocked out about three rounds ago, loser. Pay up.”
I managed to blink. “Pay what?”
“The bet. First to five wins. I just smoked you 5-2.” She settled back into the couch, one muscular thigh draped over the back of it, leaving her completely, unabashedly open. She wasn’t adjusting her skirt. She was letting it stay there. “That’s twenty bucks. Or…” Her tongue touched her top lip. “An equivalent favor.”
The air in the room thickened, the hum of the dormant TV suddenly loud in my ears. I could smell her – a mix of her clean sweat from our mock-fight over the controller, and something warmer, muskier, coming from between her legs. “You did that on purpose,” I said, my voice rough.
“Did what?” she asked, all innocence, but her eyes were blazing with mischief.
“The stretch. The… no underwear thing. You’ve been planning this.”
She laughed, a low, dirty sound. “Maybe I got hot. Maybe I wanted to be comfortable. Or maybe,” she said, leaning forward just enough to make the couch creak, her crop top straining over the hard planes of her abs, “I wanted to see how long it would take for you to stop pretending you weren’t staring at my tits all night.”
I had been. Everyone stared at Amelia. She was a fucking monument. “It’s distracting,” I admitted, setting the controller down slowly.
“Good.” In one fluid motion, she swung her legs off the couch and stood up. She loomed over me, all six-foot-something of carved muscle and intention. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of my sweats, pulling. “Now, are you paying the debt or not?”
I let her pull me to my feet. Our bodies were close now. I could feel the heat coming off her. “What’s the favor?”
Her hand slid down, palming me through the fabric, finding me already hard and aching. She squeezed, making me gasp. “I think you know.”
Then her mouth was on mine, and it wasn’t gentle. It was all teeth and claiming tongue, a kiss that tasted like victory and cheap beer. She bit my lower lip, sucking it into her mouth before breaking away, her breathing ragged. “Get on your fucking knees.”
The command shot straight to my dick. I dropped, the carpet rough against my knees. From here, the view was obscene. The short skirt was a fringe around her thighs, framing that wet, dark cunt. The scent of her was overwhelming.
She tangled a hand in my hair, not guiding, just holding. “Look at you,” she murmured. “Always so polite. Now be useful.”
I didn’t need another order. I leaned in, burying my face in her. She was salty and tangy, her folds hot and slick. I licked a slow stripe from her entrance up to her clit, and her thighs trembled. Her grip in my hair tightened.
“Yeah. Just like that.”
I got to work, my tongue circling her clit, flicking it, then flattening against it. I pushed two fingers inside her, and she was so fucking tight, her inner walls clamping down immediately. She groaned, a deep, raw sound, and began to rock her hips against my face, fucking herself on my mouth and fingers. There was no finesse now, just a hungry, grinding rhythm.
“Fuck, right there,” she panted. “Don’t you dare stop.”
I couldn’t have if I wanted to. She held me locked in place, her movements growing more frantic. I curled my fingers, searching, and found that rough spot inside her. When I pressed against it, her whole body went rigid.
“Oh, god!” The curse was a shout. Her release hit her like a convulsion, her cunt pulsing around my fingers, a fresh gush of wetness coating my chin. She rode it out, grinding against me until the shudders subsided.
For a second, there was just the sound of our breathing. Then her hand loosened in my hair. She looked down at me, my face wet with her, her own eyes dark with lust. “Stand up.”
I rose, unsteady. She immediately shoved me back towards the couch. I fell onto it, and she followed, straddling my lap in one smooth, powerful motion. She yanked my sweats and boxers down my hips, freeing my cock. The cool air was a shock, then the hotter shock of her as she notched the head against her opening.
She paused, hovering, making me feel every trembling inch of that contact. “You want this?” she breathed, her forehead against mine.
“Yes.”
“How bad?”
“Fucking terrible, Mommy. Please.”
That smirk returned. “Good girl.”