Excite Me

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

MIABlonde hair falling into her face, Melissa rolled onto her stomach and typed about a million miles an hour on her phone with her lips set in a small smile. It was almost three in the morning. Serena was passed out on the couch in Melissa’s room, and I was trying to sleep.

Her phone’s brightness must’ve been turned all the way up because I could see it through my damn closed eyes. I squinted one eye open so I didn’t go blind, and stared at the door. Maybe if I got something to drink or went to the bathroom or told her I couldn’t sleep, she’d get the hint and turn it off.

The hallway light suddenly turned on, and I opened my eyes fully, listening to Mr. Bryne’s footsteps out in the hallway.

Control yourself, Mia. You don’t have to go out there. Tell Melissa that you’re tired and hope that she’ll turn off her phone.

“Jeez, Victor is still awake?” I asked.

Melissa’s blue eyes widened, and she dimmed her phone screen. “Sorry. Yeah, that boy can drink until sunrise.”

I gave her a half-hearted smile and turned onto my side, gazing at my phone that had zero—and I mean, zero—messages from Mason. I’d texted him earlier—quite a few times—only for him to ignore every single one of them. After sighing, I gazed back out at the light blaring under the door from the hallway.

Relax, Mia.

Melissa continued typing away, her blue manicured nails clacking against the screen.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I said, scrambling out of bed and sneaking into the hallway. I closed the door and wandered down the hallway, past the bathroom and over to the living room sliding glass door.

I walked out onto the deck and sat on one of the plush navy-colored patio seats. A breeze blew through the woods, giving me goose bumps on my exposed legs. I rested on the seat and looked down by the pool, where Mr. Bryne was sitting by the fireplace. His back was turned toward me, his muscles rippling against his white T-shirt.

“God,” I whispered, taking a deep breath.

What am I even doing out here? It was late.

So damn late.

With his phone to his ear, I listened to him sigh. My heart pounded against my chest, all those dirty little fantasies coming to my mind. I closed my eyes.

Control, Mia.

For the first time tonight, I listened to him speak to the person on the other end, his voice deep and gruff. I squeezed my knees together and rubbed my palm against my thigh.

Don’t think about it.

I ground my thighs together, hoping for some kind of friction. He paused for a few moments, said a couple more words, then stood up.

“f**k,” I whispered under my breath, bucking my hips against the patio chair. “f**k me.”

He walked around the pool, the moonlight bouncing off his tan skin. I stared down at him, slipping a hand between my legs. This was the one and only time I’d touch myself at his house. It wouldn’t happen again. I was just really, really stressed and horny and … God, he looked so damn good in those sweatpants.

I rubbed myself through my shorts. I’d only do it for a few moments. Not any longer. Not—my fingers massaged my clit—f*****g—a rush of pleasure shot through me—longer …

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and rubbed my fingers even faster against my p***y. The force was rising inside of me, and all I could imagine were his rough hands all over my body, his soft lips brushing against mine as he told me all the things he had been wanting to do to me. I stifled a moan, so close to coming.

When I reopened my eyes to stare at him, knowing it would tip me over the edge, he had turned in my direction, but he hadn’t looked up. At least, I hoped he hadn’t.

Though I wanted to stop myself so he couldn’t have a chance to catch me, I continued. My p***y was pulsing, aching for a sweet release because I hadn’t felt this good in so long. But when Mr. Bryne glanced up at the deck, I froze. Quickly, he glanced back down at the pool, watching the moonlight glimmer off of it, and I rubbed my p***y faster, hoping I could come in the .02 seconds when he looked away. Maybe he hadn’t seen me.

But … he clicked the phone off and looked back up. “Mia,” he said, staring up at the deck. “What’re you doing up? It’s almost three in the morning.”

I leaned forward, trying not to make it obvious that I was indeed touching myself to him out here. “I, um …” I stood up, my n*****s pressing against my crop top. I leaned over the edge of the deck, resting my forearms on the ledge. A wind blew again, my loose orange crop top blowing with it. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He paused for a moment, his jaw clenching. He stood directly below, looking up at me. And there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he could see right up my shirt. My p***y tightened even more at the thought of Mr. Bryne seeing me n***d and actually enjoying the view.

“Neither could you, huh?” I asked, trying to ease the tension.

He paused for a moment.

“Come down here,” he said.

“Me?” I asked stupidly, my cheeks flaming. “I don’t know—Melissa will probably come looking for me.”

“Come down here,” he said again without giving me room to argue.

I hurried back inside, leaving the deck sliding door ajar, and walked down the stairs to the pool. Mr. Bryne met me at the bottom and handed me a glass of wine. I grabbed it from him, touching his fingers, and followed him to the patio. The mere feeling of his fingers on mine drove me wild, and I sat across from him.

My eyes landed on the pool as I sipped my wine and tried to stop my cheeks from flushing. When I glanced over at him, his eyes flickered to my t**s. His jaw tightened, and he looked away, taking a deep breath.

Is Mr. Bryne … checking me out?

I shifted in my seat, trying to suppress the ache between my legs, but with every moment, that ache was intensifying. Maybe he was just wondering why I wasn’t wearing a b*a or how I must be so damn cold out here.

His phone buzzed on the chair next to him. He glanced down at it and sipped his wine, sighing through his nose.

“You should get that,” I said quietly.

He turned his phone over and shut it off. “I can’t talk to her again.”

“Her?” I asked.

“Melissa’s mother,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

Melissa spent some time at her mother’s house mainly when we were in high school, but she never brought me, and she never told me what had happened between her parents years ago. All I knew was that one night, Mr. Bryne and Melissa’s mother had gotten into a huge fight, and Melissa had come over to my house, crying.

I frowned and sipped my wine, squeezing my knees together. His stare dropped to my legs, and my breath caught in the back of my throat. I took another gulp of my wine, bucking my hips. It happened almost instinctively, and my p***y pulsed.

Mr. Bryne pressed his lips together, sipped his drink, and stared at the ground near my legs. I moved my a*s against the chair again, grinding it back and forth, not able to stop myself. It was three in the morning, this wine was strong as hell, and I was horny.

“Mia,” he said quietly.

“Yes, Mr. Bryne?” I said, clutching the side of the chair.

His gaze drifted to my t**s again and to the way my n*****s stiffened against the material. He rubbed his leg with his hand. “You should probably go to bed,” he said quietly.

I stared at him with wide eyes. My lips parted, and then I pursed them back together. “But …”

“But?” he asked, struggling to keep eye contact with me.

“But I’m not tired,” I said before I could stop myself.

His jaw twitched, his eyes hardening. The way he was trying not to stare only made me more excited. I couldn’t resist moving my a*s against the seat.

“Well …” He gulped, placed his glass on the table, and stood. “I’m going to head up.” He walked over to me, squeezed my shoulder from behind—his touch inviting—then said, “Don’t worry about staying quiet out here.”

I tensed and stared down at my thighs. What does he mean by that? Wh—

“Good night, Mia.” He opened the sliding glass door, then disappeared behind it.

My eyes stayed glued to my thighs, brows drawn together. When I knew he was out of sight, I pushed my hand down my shorts and rubbed my aching clit.

The tension had built so high in my core that I didn’t need much to get me going. What … does Mr. Bryne …

Fuck, I had been so close to letting him watch me touch myself, so close to letting him touch me.

He had been tempted. He was staring. He wanted it. And all I’d wanted was for him to come over.

My p***y clenched.

For him to strip off his pants.

For him to f**k me senseless.

I arched my back lightly, my legs starting to tremble.

I bit my lip, trying to be as quiet as I could. I slipped my hand under my shirt and pinched one of my n*****s, and a loud moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. I slapped a hand over my mouth, threw my head back, and rode out my o****m.

And when I finally came down from it, I listened to the sliding glass door on the deck close and watched Mr. Bryne walk deeper into the dark house.