Except I’ve sat here in this room for almost two hours, watching all kinds of filthy stuff going on, and while my dick isn’t dead, it hasn’t reacted appropriately. It’s been semi-hard for sure, but it’s not been aching for release. I have a moment of panic that maybe I’m getting too old for this shit, or that I’m just not turned on by this stuff anymore, which means my sex life will be on the decline.
But I immediately push that thought away. I have no choice but to because Jorie struts into The Orgy Room, and my dick goes rock hard. She’s wearing a denim mini-skirt that’s barely covering her goods, black ankle boots with a heel so high I’m not sure how she walks, and a white halter top that’s so thin her hard nipples are poking through.
I involuntarily push my palm down onto my dick, not to rearrange it, but to try to force it into submission.
Her eyes scan the room slowly… leisurely. They cross over me, and she sees me standing there because she gives me a slight smile and a nod of greeting before continuing her perusal. She doesn’t look back my way, and that fucking pisses me off so badly my feet are moving before my brain tells them to.
As I cross the room, Jorie’s eyes seem to focus on something, so I look that way.
A man, lounging provocatively on one of the couches, beckons her closer. She smiles at him and moves his way.
Oh, hell no.
I cut across toward her on the diagonal, hurdling one of the low chaises to stand in front of her ten feet before she reaches the guy.
“Not going to happen,” I tell her firmly as she’s brought up short.
Jorie smiles up at me, and that black hair with her bangs right over those green eyes makes a startling effect. They remind me of the snake in The Jungle Book, the way it hypnotized that little boy. Jorie used to make Micah and me watch that with her over and over again. I hated that stupid movie but right now, the memories make me want to smile.
“Good,” she says as she steps in close to me, placing a hand on my stomach. “You’ve come to your senses.”
Christ, it kills me, but I take her hand in mine and push it gently off. “My senses are the same as they were this morning. Nothing’s changed. You’re just not going to be using this club to get your rocks off.”
“Well, that’s fine if you don’t feel any differently,” Jorie says calmly and makes a move to step around me. “But you have no control over me. I can do whatever I want in this club.”
Fury rages through me that she’s so cavalier about this. She doesn’t seem put out at all that I’m not interested in her that way, but that rage is nothing compared to what I feel at the thought of some random dude putting his hands on her.
“Jorie,” I warn, and I swear it’s the same tone I used once when she was little and was getting ready to touch the outdoor grill my dad was cooking on.
She turns fully to me, and I can’t help but notice the way her breasts sway under the material of her top as she does. I want to fucking bite them.
“You can either fuck me or I’m getting it from someone else tonight,” she says resolutely.
My cock is jumping up and down yelling, Pick me, pick me. “I don’t think of you that way.”
Jorie rolls her eyes because she knows that’s as ludicrous a statement as it sounds.
“But you have thought of me that way,” she says, reminding me of something that shames me greatly. Tilting her head slightly, she asks, “Tell me, Walsh… how old was I? What was your dirty thought?”
I don’t answer. I refuse to answer.
“Want to know a secret?” she asks.
I keep my mouth firmly clamped shut.
She leans in and whispers. “I’ve had dirty thoughts about you before… when I was younger. Lots of them actually.”
My balls start tingling. She thought of me that way before?
“Back when I first started, um… discovering things about my body,” she continues in a husky tone. “When I’d lay in bed at night and touch myself.”
Her eyes study me carefully, waiting to see some reaction. I don’t show it, though. I don’t let her see I want her so badly that I’d sell my soul to the devil right now just sink to my cock an inch inside her pussy. Clamping down hard on my conscience for stability, I refuse to let myself be baited into something I’ll regret again, no matter how good it will feel getting to that regret.
Realizing she’s not getting the reaction she wants, she gives a nonchalant shrug and sidesteps me, her intent to head to the man she was originally walking toward.