The Worst Kind of Promise: Chapter 25

She’s all in. I’d pump my fist in the air if I had a hand to do it with. One small step for man, one giant leap for Kit-kind.

I watch and admire the way Faye lights up with excitement when she finds a book that piques her interest. She keeps handing them to me, and yeah, there might be a slight ache in my arms, but I’d carry enough books to fill up a library for her. When she finally decides that thirty-some-odd books are enough, I pay at the checkout, hefting each bag up my arm.

It’s past three by now, and we still haven’t eaten lunch yet. We make the short trek to the car, and Faye pops open the trunk for me.

“You hungry?” I ask, hauling the bags inside, thinking back to when I had all her luggage back here. The beginning of everything.

Faye sighs wistfully. “Food sounds great right now.”

I hip-bump the trunk closed and lean against it. “What do you feel like?”

“Oh, uh…” Her face scrunches up adorably, and I want so badly to take it in my hands and kiss her a hundred times over. Kiss her so many times that she’s swollen mouthed and panting for her next breath of air, until her pupils are dilated and that gorgeous blush of hers is a patchwork of pink all over her cheeks.

“You pick.”

“Princess, I’ve been down this road. I know how it goes. I’ll throw something out there, you veto it, I offer something else, you also veto it. And we go back and forth until you eventually just tell me what you feel like.”

“I’m not that picky,” she bickers.

I clasp my hands together and point them at her. “Pizza.”

“Isn’t it a little hot for pizza?”

“Chinese food.”

“I love it, but it is super greasy.”

“Sandwiches.”

“The bread is always so…dry.”

I scrub a hand down my tired face, chuckling at how well I know her. Even though she drives me up the wall sometimes, my heart only beats for her. Hell, it would still beat for her if she yanked it out of my body, stomped on it, and threw it out the window to be flattened by a four-wheeler. Not that she would ever do that.

I stare at her in silence.

“Okay, fine. I see your point,” she mumbles in defeat, scouting for the nearest restaurant. Even as the sun hangs lower in the sky, it still swathes her in a canary halo, one that lightens her eyes and brings out their underlying gold tones.

“What about burgers?”

Despite the fact that I’d eat anything put in front of me right now, hunger isn’t what pushes me toward the idea. It’s the dick-wetting sight of watching Faye bite into a burger twice the size of her head, all while grease drips down her chin as she makes those little orgasmic noises.

Fingers snap in front of my face. “Hello?”

“Yeah, I said that sounds good.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“I did in my head.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, eyeing me before turning around and tromping toward the burger joint—Been There, Bun That—across the street. She’s halfway across the parking lot by the time I come up behind her and pinch her ass—which is covered by one of the prettiest sundresses I’ve ever seen. Pale blue, decorated in a floral print, with a ruffled hem that ends around mid-thigh and a sweetheart neckline that leaves little to the imagination.

She squeaks, swatting blindly at the air behind her. “What was that for?”

“You put a masterpiece in front of me and expect me not to touch it?”

She scowls at me, but I don’t miss the hint of color suffusing into her cheeks. “You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot,” I clarify.

As I hold the door open for her, she just laughs. She pretty much laughs all the way to our table that’s situated in the far corner of the restaurant. And it’s that genuine, airy kind of laughter that I love hearing—the kind of laugh I could record and play on repeat and never get tired of listening to.

Our waiter gets us started with some drinks and menus, and the whole time, I’m still wondering how I got so lucky to be seated across from the most beautiful woman in the world. She has her face tucked behind her menu, and her hair’s been thrown up into some messy updo because of the heat.

“What looks good to you?” she asks.

I’m not looking at the menu. I’m not looking at anything aside from her. I’ve noticed that the more time she spends in the sun, the darker her freckles become. I’ve noticed a lot about her that hadn’t been on my radar before, like the little nose crinkle she does when she’s thinking, or how she always slightly pouts when she’s frustrated.

When I don’t say anything—because I’m too dumbfounded—she looks up at me. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Lust teases its way up my spine. “Not for food.”

Faye’s menu clunks onto the table, and her eyes enlarge.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” I admit, my gaze drifting downward, regret locking around my throat like a serpent.

“No, don’t be.” Her response is hasty, surprising me so much that I look up from the table to meet her eyes—eyes laden with a seductive darkness.

Trouble, spelled out in all capital letters. Trouble, offering me the chance to turn back from the metaphorical chain-linked fence with the KEEP OUT sign splayed on it.

Faye leans in, lowering her voice. “Tell me what you would do to me if we weren’t in public.”

I’d freak out if we weren’t seated at a pretty secluded table. And luckily for us, the lunch rush must’ve wiped out a lot of customers, because there’re only a few stragglers left.

She’s as sexy as sin right now in that form-fitting sundress, with her perky breasts pushed up between her arms, taunting me. Not to mention that I can faintly make out the outline of her pebbled nipples against the thin fabric, and my hardening dick stirs behind the grain of my pants. She’s gonna kill me, and I’m fully going to let her.

Internally shoving down the moan rising inside me, I lean forward, matching her intensity. I’m so horny that I can barely think straight.

“We don’t have to be in private,” I whisper, reaching my hand under the table, brushing against the caps of her knees.

The table is small, which means we’re close enough for our legs to touch if we maneuver just a bit. I also take up a lot of legroom. But the good thing about being in a cramped space is that I don’t have to lean forward very much to touch her—to run the pads of my fingers along her buttercream skin.

Her breath hiccups, her eyes falling shut in pleasure, and if it wasn’t for the broken buzz of the fan above us, I’m sure I would’ve heard a little noise slip out of her. My hand lingers at the crease where her closed knees meet, wondering if she’ll allow me entry. And like the good girl I know she is, she parts her fucking legs for me.

My eyes are trained on her the entire time as I slowly drag my fingers up the plushness of her thigh, nearing closer to that heavenly apex that I’ve spent hours buried inside. I can practically taste her sweet juices on my gluttonous tongue.

“If we weren’t in public, I’d start by begging you to let me taste you again. Beg you to douse me in your scent until I can’t fully wash your smell away. Beg you to feed me every last drop of your cum until I’m drunk on the flavor of you.”

Faye wedges her lower lip between her teeth, and I get the first tremor from her as my hand inches even closer to my desired target.

“And when you let me—not if, but when—I’d start to kiss a path up your thighs. Maybe even bite if you deserve it. Leave my mark on you so you remember every second my mouth worshipped your body.”

My fingers are more than ready to graze the lace of her panties, to wet my pads with the cum soaking through the front, but the apparent lack of barrier thwarts my next move. Because Faye Hollings isn’t wearing any underwear.

“Oh, fuck,” I breathe out, and I know she can feel my touch falter. I almost blew my load right then and there. She’s been walking around…with no panties on…this entire time. My cock’s already leaking pre-cum, so unfathomably hard that it’s borderline painful, and my balls draw up tight, aching for release. All which makes the room in my pants nonexistent.

“Faye,” I growl, forcing her to open her eyes and look at me.

The minute I see those bright brown beauties, I’m a goner. My fingers haven’t even been inside her, and I can already feel them slick with her arousal.

“Commando? Seriously?”

She licks her lips like a vixen savoring her last meal. There’s no sign of the sweet, innocent Faye I’m used to. The sweet, innocent Faye who blushes every time I say something vaguely dirty or touch her in just the right place. No, I’m staring down a fucking temptress.

“Oops” is all she says.

Oops.

Desire slices through me like an unforgiving scythe, ripping me open and airing out all my bleeding parts. This girl is torture. Has been since the moment I met her. And right now, she’s going to be my undoing.

There’s a glacial iciness to my tone. “You’re lucky I’m not going to finger you right here, right under this goddamn table. Make you walk out of this restaurant with your legs covered in your own cum like the slut you are.”

I have no control anymore. None. And there’s no way I’m getting through lunch with a boner, so I do the most reasonable thing I can think of: I stand up and excuse myself to the restroom.

If we were at home right now, I’d bend her over my knee and spank her. Spank her until her ass is red and there’s an imprint of my hand tattooed on her cheek. But I can’t do that in public because that’s “breaking the law.”

It’s painful just making it to the bathroom. My bulge is so prominent that it’s laughable, and my legs are as stiff as hell for fear that more unnecessary movement will exacerbate the pain.

I finally get there though, by some miracle, and as soon as I see the safe haven of those tiled walls, I release the breath trapped in my chest. I do a quick perimeter check to make sure no dicks are swinging around, and then I readjust the major hindrance in my pants.

Am I proud about what I’m going to do next? No. Is it necessary? Absolutely. Jesus Christ, this has to be one of my lowest points. You know when you’ve hit rock bottom, and people say there’s nowhere to go except up? They’re wrong. You can most definitely keep going down, probably all the way to the earth’s core if you don’t burn alive from embarrassment beforehand.

I start to tweak the button on my jeans when I hear the door swing open, and my entire body clams up. Shit. I didn’t block the door. Oh my God. How could I have been so stupid? Now I’m just standing in the middle of the bathroom like a total weirdo with my fly all the way down.

Don’t turn around. Just act natural. Or do turn around…and hope whoever just walked in doesn’t see your massive hard-on.

I’m prepared for the humiliation. I’m prepared for the weird look. What I’m not prepared for is the feminine voice that sounds from behind me.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

I whip around fast enough to crick my neck, and I stare down at the menacing, five-foot-five package of power and beauty all rolled up into one. Faye moves the stainless-steel trash can in front of the door, corralling both of us in and hopefully acting as a sufficient blockade for anyone outside.

My brows cross. “What are you doing in here?” I ask, and I must be more nervous than I thought because my voice cracks.

Faye’s hooded eyes prowl over me, and slowly, her cheeks twitch with a sultry grin. Even her posture is different—she’s assertive, dominant. A furor of enthusiasm unleashes inside of me like the ground-shaking boom of a transformer blowing.

My dick responds instantly to her, staining the front of my pants with pre-cum, and I groan when she steps closer to me, trailing her fingernail up the length of my arm. My skin breaks out in goose bumps as my cock cries to be freed from its denim prison.

She makes a low noise of disapproval, looking down at the pathetic state of my crotch. “That seems pretty bad.”

“It’s…fine,” I huff out, feeling the pressure in my lower stomach begin to mount.

Faye edges closer to the point where her tits are flush against my chest, and if she wanted to, she could reach down and see what she does to me—could fondle the evidence of my desire for her.

“I could help you, you know,” she croons, her fingers descending even further until they rest over my sensitive bulge.

Even through the fabric, her touch seeps into my hot skin, and my hips shamefully buck into her palm. As much as I’d love nothing more than for Faye to help me, I’m not going to ask her unless she’s sure she wants to do it. A little blue balls never hurt anyone…right?

“Faye, you don’t—”

She cuts me off by pushing me up against one of the walls, and I’m so shocked by her strength that I don’t pay much attention to the tingling in my spine from the collision.

She then lowers to her knees, and they squeak against the tiles since her dress doesn’t offer enough length to cover them. “You told me that you would’ve had me walking out of here with my cum all over me,” she starts, popping the button on my offending pants and zipping them down. “But you’re wrong. I’m going to be walking out of here with your cum all over me.”

“Oh, fuck,” I ground out, trying to keep a level head, feeling a thousand times better now that my jeans are pooled around my ankles and not suffocating my balls. My angry, red-hued dick springs out, whacking my stomach. It’s riddled with rivers of veins that are self-destruction pressure points, and there’s a pearl of pre-cum at the tip, already trickling down my twitching shaft.

“Wow, I’ve never looked this thing in the eye before,” Faye says humorously, using the soft pad of her finger to follow its slight curve, all the way to the bulbous head that’s slicked with lubrication.

Her touch is featherlight, but my God, I’m not going to last three minutes.

She raptly sets her sight on the dark trail of hair leading down from my navel to the trimmed thatch of my pubes. And then her eyes bug out at my two hanging balls. “This is impressive, Kit. Huge. Heavy. You could really do some dama—”

“Faye,” I snap, my patience fading.

She giggles because she knows how torturous this is for me. I’m about to just start some stimulation with a couple of pumps, but Faye doesn’t let my hand get anywhere near my cock.

And the first stroke of that precise tongue…that first stroke has me ascending to heaven. She keeps one hand at the base while her tongue does the rest of the work, licking my veins in earnest, gliding all the way to the blushed tip where she sucks up some of my seed. Her hand is soft as it rubs up and down, halfheartedly squeezing with each upstroke. I feel my knees begin to shake and my head become woozy, and I have to remind myself that there’s a wall holding me up.

With spit-slick lips, Faye laps at the underside of my length, stamping delicate kisses to the taut skin. A moan punches out of me, and I lean my head back against the wall, all while tugging on her hair. I twist those wavy strands around my fingers for stability, nearly passing out when the heat of Faye’s mouth swallows down a good portion of my dick.

“There’s my good girl. Look at you, so eager for my cock. You want me to fuck your mouth so hard that your jaw locks?”

Faye doesn’t pop off to answer. Instead, she mewls around my girth, giving the slightest of nods as she takes me even deeper. Her cheeks puff out, and spit begins to drizzle from her mouth, congealing into long strings. A lot of women usually can’t take all of me—even those with no gag reflexes. It doesn’t bother me. I get off whether they pump or suck.

“Princess, I don’t want—”

She gives me a full-on death glare through her lashes. And to spite me, her mouth envelops more of my dick, to the point where I feel myself jammed against the back of her throat. I don’t know how well she can breathe, but her nose is fully nestled in my pubes, and my balls tap her chin as she starts to hollow her cheeks and suck.

“Fuck, Faye. Your mouth is incredible. You’re choking on my dick. I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that,” I groan, my jaw wound so tight that I’m surprised I haven’t cracked enamel yet. It’s criminal the way her tongue swirls and flicks, hurling miniature aftershocks through my entire body.

I thrust forward slightly into her bulging mouth, and she gags a little, a cocktail of my arousal and her spit leaking down her chin. I’m immediately worried that it’s too much, but Faye only needs a moment of composure before she’s slurping up my penis with sloppy, vulgar noises. She isn’t worried about what she looks like—she’s only focused on bringing me to the precipice.

While she’s locked around me, her tongue rolls over the sensitive skin on my penis, ironing out the creases there, and my lower body convulses, thrusting into her already-full mouth. There’s a flare burning up in my thighs, making it hard for me to control any of my muscles, and a veil of water manifests in my eyes from the overwhelming sensation.

“You want me to paint your tonsils with my cum?”

Faye unlocks her lips from around my cock, nods obediently, and tongues the ridge of my dick until she reaches my neglected ball sack. She begins to massage my balls in her small hands, kneading the thin flesh there, saliva and pre-cum helping with the friction. Vertigo warps my vision, and the contraction of my abs and the palpitating of my shaft tells me I’m close. But Faye doesn’t stop there. She sucks one of my balls into her mouth, laving the darkened skin and weighing it on her tongue, and that’s when I know I’m done for.

I can’t help the floodgates opening inside of me. With the combination of her sucking my balls and her hand jerking me off, there’s nothing in this world that could stop me from coming all over the bathroom floor.

“Princess, I’m gonna c—”

Still on her knees, she rests the tip of my bursting dick in her mouth, waiting for me to come all down her throat. And that image alone—with her bedroom eyes and pouty lips—has my orgasm hailing through me at immeasurable speeds. My core collapses as illustrious flashes of energy coruscate through me, and then every inch of my body begins to ignite, resulting in a supernova of euphoria strong enough to wipe out my thoughts, my breath, and the very legs I’m standing on.

Ribbons of cum shoot out of me and into Faye’s mouth, splattering a bit on her chin. She swallows down as much as she can, careful not to miss any rogue drops, and once the stream fizzles out, I take a moment to recollect myself.

Faye licks off the mess of milky-white spend all over her lower face, and when she rises to a stance, I wipe off the excess that she forgot.

“You know you didn’t have to do any of that, right?” I say, holding her cheeks in my hands, not caring about the stickiness of her skin or the smell of cum on her breath. To be honest, there’s something sexy about smelling myself all over her.

Her glossy lips ripen into a soft smile. “I know. I wanted to.”