by Nyla K
She appears taken aback for a moment, frozen in timidity, but before I can gloat, she squares her shoulders and says, “I can make you feel good. Like I wanted to before. Like I tried to.”
Just a simple reference to her small hand brushing over my dick earlier has it rousing significantly against my thigh. Fuck…
I can’t do this. Don’t entertain it. It’s wrong.
So. Fucked. Up.
And yet my pathetic, drunken male brain is conjuring up all kinds of crazy. Like ways she could suck my dick without being her… Or without knowing it’s me.
You’re an idiot. And you’ll burn in Hell, after your best friend kills you.
Thoughts of Damien in this moment confuse me down to my core. I’m warm and starved for something. I know I won’t be able to continue turning the girl down if she keeps coming at me like this.
“I know you liked it,” Traci whispers when she realizes she has me on the ropes.
“You wouldn’t know what I like.” I unbutton my vest because I’m too damn hot. “You’re just a kid.”
“I’m not a kid, Lazarus,” she aims those blue doe eyes at my face. “I’m a woman.”
“You’ve always been a kid to me,” I tell her, because it’s true. “You’re my best friend’s kid.”
“Well… people change.” She steps closer again as I shrug out of my vest. “And my dad doesn’t have to know what we do.”
She reaches up slowly, hesitantly, as if she’s waiting for me to smack her hand away, which is exactly what I should do. But I don’t.
I don’t know why.
She pops a button on my dress shirt. Then she does the next one, so that the top of my chest is slightly visible before she slips her fingers inside to trace the tattoos there, like she did earlier. I liked it then, and I still like it now.
I can’t believe it, but I like how she touches me; as if it’s something she’s always wanted to do. As if I fascinate her, like a statue in a museum that you’re never ever supposed to touch.
My body remains stock-still, and my breathing is almost nonexistent. I want to make her leave so bad, and yet I don’t. I physically can’t drum up the strength to tell her to go.
Because if I’m being honest, she doesn’t look like a kid at all, standing here in that dress, with those large, twinkly eyes and mouthwatering cleavage my tongue wants to explore. Touching me, desperate for my pleasure…
Can men really turn away a gorgeous girl like her, who’s practically begging for it? I’m not sure I’ve ever done it before.
This is bad.
Bad.
Bad.
So bad…
Her gentle little fingers swoop over the curves of my chest and I clear my throat, grabbing her hand fast.
My game, doll.
“You don’t call the shots, Trix,” I warn, then nip her fingertip with my teeth, causing her to gasp.
Her cheeks flush and God, it makes me throb in my pants. I’d love to see how her body reacts to my touch. To my teasing, and torture.
But I can’t do that.
I can’t touch her. Ever.
“What we did earlier… That was a mistake,” I say with my eyes locked on hers to convey how serious I am. “We’re not doing that again. Do you understand?”
Her bottom lip trembles and she bites it, the site of which tests my willpower some more. She’s cute and seductive at the same time, which is next-level tempting. I think she wants to object to my rule but before she can, we both seem to realize how close we’re standing.
How my body is basically pressed against hers.
I need to do something. I need to regain some control here.
Abruptly stepping away, I walk to the chair with my tuxedo jacket flung over the side, then remove a silk handkerchief and hold it up.
“This -” I motion between us, “Isn’t happening.”
Striding over to her before she - or I - can process what I’m doing, I tie the handkerchief around her eyes, blindfolding her so she can’t see anything.
For whatever reason, it allows me to relax, and consider what exactly it is I’m about to do.
“Laz…” she murmurs, fidgeting in place.
“Can you see?” I ask, watching her beautiful, covered face closely. “Don’t lie.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Jesus, stop talking.” I take her by the hand, leading her to have a seat on the couch.
She sits as daintily as she can manage, and it confirms that she cannot, in fact, see a thing. It’s good. I can’t have her seeing me like this.
But I’ll get to see… See how much she’s willing to do to make me feel good.
I think I’ve come to terms with how evil I am at this point. I am absolutely going to Hell. Even worse than that, if Damien ever finds out about this, it will demolish our friendship.
But where is he right now, hm?
Which Wright is here? Not him.
Clearing my throat, I dismiss those thoughts. Then I stand above Traci, looking down at her, frame slight as she sits like an elegant flower I’ve just plucked from a fruitful garden.
Mine. For now.
She can’t see me, and I like it. I need it like this. I’m drunk and I don’t want to make a mistake. But I need something…
Let’s pretend she’s not Tracien. She’s just some hot young girl who followed me up to my hotel room because of how badly she wants me. But she’ll never have me.
Watching her breasts move up and down with her fluttering nervous breaths, I decide I like how she looks this way; breathless and blushed just from being near me. I think I like it too much. All the sultry slopes and curves of her gorgeous body. She doesn’t look seventeen at all. She’s all woman; a goddess.
“Why would you come up here with me, Traci?” I finally speak to her, still just watching. That’s all I get. Just look… No touch. “What did you think would happen, anyway? You’re just a girl.”
“I’m not just a girl anymore, Lazarus,” she answers, relaxing her posture a bit. “I can make you feel better.”
Her fingers trail up and down her thigh, over the satin of her dress, and I imagine what the material would feel like beneath my own hands. Or on my cock.
“I don’t need to feel better,” I grunt, edgy and not fooling anyone. “I’m fine.”
Her head tilts in my direction and her blindfolded face aims right at me, as if she knows exactly where I am, even with her eyes covered.
“You can lie to everyone else, Lazarus, but you can’t lie to me. I see you.”
My heart rocks hard into my ribs, her words settling over me, tempting me as much as the look of her. But then I remind myself not to get carried away.
She doesn’t know what she’s saying.
“Actually, Trix, right now… You see nothing.”
I take a seat in the chair adjacent to where she’s sitting and fold my hands on my lap.
“What would you do for me, Traci?” I ask, taking on a new approach. “Would you do bad things for me?”
She nods right away. “Yes.”
“Would you hide things from your father… for me?”
“Yes.” Her voice is velvety smooth.
“Why?”
“Because I want you. And it has nothing to do with him.” She licks her lips, and the sight, along with her confession, has my dick straining against my pants.
No one has to know.
“Lift your dress,” I croak. “Show me what your panties look like.”
She releases a small mewl of a noise that registers in my groin, before sliding the satin material up her smooth, tan legs. Her skin is milky and even-toned, begging me to run my lips over every surface of her.
No. Not that. You’re never doing that.
My chest becomes tight with the reality as Traci bunches her dress around her hips, revealing a blood-red lace material
covering the triangle between her thighs. My cock pulses, mainly because of how good she looks, and also partially because of how wrong this is.
She’s one girl I am never supposed to see like this, and here she is. Baring herself to me.
“Spread your legs.” The command comes out impatient, and I have to grip my thigh to remember to calm down. Her legs part slowly. “More.”
She leans back a bit with her legs spread wide. So wide that I can see her whole pussy, covered only by the material of what I can now tell is a thong. Wetness has visibly soaked through the fabric, the sight prompting me to chomp the inside of my cheek.
She’s fucking drenched. For me. And we didn’t even do anything.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Swallowing hard, I regain my bearings before I lunge at her. “I can see how wet you are from here, Trix.” She whimpers, tugging her succulent lip between her teeth. “Have you been this wet before?”
She shakes her head slowly as my heart races.
“Have you played with your little pussy before?”
“Yes,” she moans this word as if I’m touching her, or tasting her, or fucking her, and good God, I can’t… This is already torturous.
“Have you touched yourself thinking about me?” I ask, sounding much more eager than controlled. But I need to know. I need to hear her say it.
“Yes, Lazarus,” she breathes and my head drops back, eyes closing for a moment while I enjoy that visual and the sound of her voice saying my name the way she is. “You’re the only person I think of when I touch myself.”
“Jesus…” the word sneaks from my throat and I bite my lip, forcing myself to get it together. I sit back up straight and adjust my erection. “Show me.”
I still can’t process that I’m doing this, with her of all people. Where is this coming from? I must be drunker than I thought…
That’s it. I’m drunk and gutted…
Tonight was the worst night I’ve had in years and I need to feel something. But I can’t actually feel it. I can’t give into this temptation, ever. It’s just a thrill.
I can’t have her. Never. Not even a little.
“Mmm…” she hums.
I can see her hardened nipples through that fucking dress. God, save me.
“Show me how you touch yourself for me, Tracien. Don’t make me wait.”
Following my instructions, her small hand slithers between her thighs and she wastes absolutely no time swirling her fingers over her clit through the wet lace of her panties. She goes slow, drawing circles on her pussy while panting enough that her tits are trying to push out of her dress on each exhale.
And my dick is so hard it’s ready to burst right through my own clothes. Whipping it out with her in the room wasn’t part of the original plan, though honestly I didn’t put much thought into this before acting.
I palm my thick cock over my pants and the jolt is unlike anything I’ve felt in two years of nonsense with Evangeline.
“Pull down the front of your dress,” I demand, heart hammering in my chest as I watch her touching her sweet innocent pussy for me. “Let me see those luscious young tits.”
Traci looks like she almost grins, but smothers it by sinking her teeth into that fat bottom lip. God, I want to bite it again. I want to bite it hard this time until I draw blood… Chew on it while I pound her with my cock.
I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe. No. No no no.
Traci tugs down the front of her dress, two perfectly round handfuls spilling out. Her breasts are… Well, they’re exactly what I would want to see on a girl like her.
Perky as fuck, pebbled rosy pink nipples ready and waiting for a mouth to suck them. Mine would be nice, though again, can’t do that.
But seriously, how good would it feel to suck those little nipples? To swirl my tongue around them and bite them. Maybe while I’m thrusting, balls-deep in her hot, tight -
I shake my head again, wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. Fuck, it’s getting hot in here.
“Laz…” she purrs, fondling her breast while her other hand continues to play with her pussy over the panties.
I’m desperate to see what it looks like underneath that lace. Maybe just a glimpse, a peek.
I’m already down the rabbit hole.
“How’s that feel, Trix?” My voice is pure gravel. “Tell me how you feel.”
“It feels so… good,” she gasps then moans.
I’m losing it here. I want so much more than I can have, and my cock is harder than it has been in a long while. I’ll need to jerk off. I just have to.
But at least she can’t see me. I can’t have her knowing what I’m doing.
“Traci,” I huff her name and she mewls, all flushed and breathing unsteady. “Bring your legs up onto the seat. Sit on your knees and keep your legs spread wide. Can you do that for me?”
She nods quick. “Yes.”
So responsive. Jesus…
She does as I ask, and now she’s showing me her whole pussy, minus the slit that’s still covered by her thong. I can also see the curves of her ass, like ripe fruit. That’s what she is.
The most forbidden fruit.
I want to see her bare pussy so badly, but I think that’s where I must draw the line. I have a feeling if she shows me everything I won’t be able to stop myself anymore.
I can’t cross that line. I just can’t.
Traci’s small hands are working herself over and I’m fucking dying. While her right hand is between her thighs, using her wetness to massage her clit until she’s almost hyperventilating, her left hand squeezes her breasts, teasing her nipples just right as my balls ache.
I’m in physical pain. I need a release.
I unbuckle my belt, that unmistakable clink hard to miss. With my eyes set on the slickness of her arousal flooding her body, I unbutton and unzip my pants, reaching inside to pull my dick out. It’s so hard it springs past my belly button; overzealous, like it really thinks it’s getting inside there.
We all know that will never happen, but still… Look at that fucking delicious pussy.
God, I want to bury my face between those thighs.
The thought has a bead of pre-cum dripping out onto my abs. I swipe at it with my thumb and against my will a noise breaks from my lips because now I’m thinking about her lapping it up with her tongue.
“W-What are you doing?” Traci breathes, not stopping what she’s doing like the good bad girl she is.
“That’s none of your concern.” My voice comes out far rougher than intended. “Just keep petting that sweet pussy for me, Trix.”
She moans out a soft sound and keeps going, speeding up a bit, chasing her orgasm, the thought of which turns up my body temperature until I can barely function with clothes on. I want to rip them off, then rip hers off, then plunge my cock in her so deep it touches her tonsils.
“Fuck… God…” I grunt, licking my lips slowly, practically drooling over what I’m seeing. The room smells like sex and we’re not even fucking.
And we ain’t gonna be fucking, so stop thinking about it.
“Oh… Lazarus…” Traci whines. I swear I could come just from the sound of my name leaving that perfect mouth while she’s wrapped up in the lust I’m allowing her to explore.
“Say that again,” I order, gripping my balls. Fuck, baby, say my name.
“Lazarus, please…” she whimpers, full round tits in the air, head back, lips quivering. “Let me touch you. Please.”
“You can beg all you want, Trix.” I fist my hand around my erection and watch her supple slopes, rising and falling with rapid breaths while her fingers push the material of her panties to the side and dip inside herself.
Oh God…
“Oh God!” She squeals, fingering her tight cunt for me while I jerk my dick off for her.
But not for her, because she doesn’t know.
I stroke my cock from balls all the way to the tip and back, veins pulsing in my hand.
Usually I like it slow and hard, but right now I’m milking myself faster and faster to match her speed.
It looks incredible. It sounds like heaven. She’s gasping my name over and over and I swear she’s close to coming apart in front of me.
“Come for me,” I growl, beating my dick harder and faster. For her. Fuck, it’s all for her.
“I will if you will.” Her lips shiver to match her trembling breaths. “Come with me, Lazarus Weston. Come for the girl you’re not supposed to have.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
“Fuck… shit… mmm…” I have no idea what I’m saying because I’m about to blow, and I desperately want to do it all over her pretty, young face. Or tits. Or pussy.
Coming on her tits… Coming on her pussy… In her pussy. Filling her pussy… filling her mouth. Filling her with my cum.
Coming coming coming.
For Traci.
“Yes! Lazarus! Yes, I’m coming!” She cries and I fuck my hand to match her breaths until everything slows down and I arrive at the pearly gates of heaven.
“Take my fucking cum, baby…” I whisper, low enough that hopefully she can’t hear me. But then I could be screaming.
I’m panting and growling and fucking coming, all over my hand and my fucking tuxedo shirt.
There are stars behind my eyes. My balls ache through the most intense contractions I’ve ever experienced from fucking my own goddamn fist.
My God…
What the…
Fuck…
Was…
That?
Slouching back in my chair, I stare at nothing for what feels like an eternity. Until the real world comes back to me and I realize what I just did.
Like an ice-cold bucket of water being thrown in my face.
I just jerked off with Damien’s daughter. I watched her come…
Jesus, I told her to do it. My goddaughter. What the hell is wrong with me??
Swallowing down my guilt-bile, I stand up, ridding myself of the shirt I just came all over and zipping my pants back up. I step slowly over to Traci, who has her dress back in place and is chewing methodically on her thumbnail.
Against all the bitter regret inside me, I remove the blindfold from her eyes and she blinks herself back to reality, unable to look me in the eye for a couple minutes. I wish I could say I felt differently.