Greedy: A Spicy Novella

That was one of the hardest tattoos of my fucking life. Having the heat of her body so fucking close to me, made it hard as fuck to focus. I pulled myself together, insistent on not fucking up the piece of art that will be on her body forever, but it was fucking hard. I mean that figuratively and physically. It was very hard.

“Okay, you should be good to go,” I say, and I realize that I am a little disappointed she is leaving already. My gut is telling me just to ask her out, to shoot my shot with her once and for all, but I hold myself back. I hold myself back because she just got out of a relationship. She seems to be going through a pretty intense breakup, and I don’t want to get in the middle of that. I want to give her time and avoid pushing her into something she isn’t ready for, but on the other hand, what if this is my only chance? I have no way to contact her after this. I start to think of ways to ask for her number, trying to find the right words so I don’t come off as creepy but don’t come up with anything before she interrupts my thoughts.

“Actually, I have another favor to ask of you,” she says, her voice hesitant, her brown eyes fidgeting around the room, never seeming to land anywhere, the nervousness cascading off her. I raise my eyebrows, waiting for her to explain, and she sighs before continuing. “I have some other memories from Greg that I’m trying to forget, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to help me.” She bites her lip the second the words are out of her mouth. God, fuck, she is sexy. I stare at her for a second, her face intoxicating me, completely fucking confused, not understanding what she is getting at, not knowing what other memories she is talking about.

“You have more tattoos?” I ask, my mind completely blank but giving it my best guess, not having a clue what the fuck she is talking about.

She laughs lightly, her face blushing. “Uh, no more tattoos,” she says, looking up at me with such sweetness in her eyes, such innocence. She licks her bottom lip as she looks up at me, her cheeks pink, her entire being making my nerves shot, making every look that she sends my way feel like a stroke on my fucking cock. I’ve never been this influenced by someone’s slightest movements, and I can feel how badly my body wants her, even as I try my best to resist her.

“Then what?” I ask, my mind still blank as I use all of my energy to not stare at her body, her tits, and all the other places I want to put my mouth. I try to focus, try to pay attention to her words, but she’s just too fucking pretty for me to think straight.

“You want me to say it?” she says with a small shy smile, looking at me as if I should know what she is talking about, as if the meaning of her words is sitting right there, right for my taking. She wrings her hands together as I stare at her, trying my best to process her words, trying my best to understand what the fuck she is talking about.

Oh.

Oh.

Things start to click together; the way she is looking at me and the blush on her cheeks are all starting to make sense, but she can’t actually be asking what I think she is. Can she? She can’t be asking for me to get rid of all of the memories of Greg, right?

I clear my throat, my mind swirling with thoughts of both of us naked between my sheets, my body ridding her of any lingering memories of Greg. “It would help if you just spelled it out for me,” I choke out, the image of her on her back, naked with me on top of her, kissing down her chest, her nipples in my mouth, her back arching into me, her scent all around me, completely fucking consumes me, making my cock stiffen in my pants.

She moves closer to me, her body invading my personal space, my body is instantly aware of just how close she is, and my heart starts to race. She looks up at me with those doe fucking eyes, stands on her tip toes so she can bring her mouth to my ear, and whispers, “I was kind of hoping you’d fuck me all over my apartment until I can’t even remember Greg’s name,” she says so fucking innocently it should be a crime. She gently pushes away from me, raising her eyebrows at me, a smirk on her face as if she knows exactly what she is doing to me and has me exactly where she wants me, like putty in her fucking hands.

“You want to piss him off that badly?” I say, my voice a fucking croak. I can’t think with her so close to me, her body only a foot away, seemingly mine for the taking if I want it.

“Yes and no,” she says with a shrug. “I noticed you the first time I came into the shop, but I was with Greg, so I couldn’t do anything about it. Now I can.” She says it so simply. She acts as if her words aren’t making my fucking head spin, as if they aren’t the words I have imagined hearing for fucking months while I stroke my cock to the mental images of her body that have been fixed in my brain.

I process her words for a second, giving my mind a moment to catch up. My mind seems to slow as my cock hardens. I’m desperate to say yes, desperate to get my fill of her while I can, but I’m still not convinced this isn’t a dream.

“So you’re propositioning me?” I ask with a smile, my brain finally working. She laughs at my words, her laughter filling the space around us, making my chest ache with need, the need to hear her laugh at least a hundred times more.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” she says with a smile, her eyes showing just a hint of vulnerability, like she isn’t as confident as she’d like to appear. She is more nervous than she is letting on, and I relish the idea that I make her nervous, that I make her heart race and stomach flutter.

I stare at her for a second, pretending to weigh my options, as if I have a fucking choice. I was looking for a reason to get her number, just so I could lamely attempt to ask her out, and now she is asking me to fuck her all over her apartment, relieving her of all the memories she has of my business rival. This is my literal wet dream, and I don’t even think she understands how badly I’ve fucking wanted this, how desperate I have been for her, and for just how long.

“So is that a yes, or?” she asks, her eyes hopeful, her small smile, suggestive. I stare at her lips, getting lost in them before my eyes connect with hers again. I smile, a challenging smile, a smile that communicates that she doesn’t know what she’s just got herself into.

“Write your address and phone number down, and I’ll be over tonight.” I hand her a piece of paper and a pen. My body already aches to be with her right now, to have my way with her on my tattoo chair while Greg from across the street watches us, but I resist. I know that I’m going to want to take my time with her when I finally have her beneath me. I don’t want to rush this, not when I’ve been waiting so fucking long for it.

She writes her address and phone number down, her cheeks pink the entire time the pen is in her hand. She hands me the paper, our fingers barely touching, but I feel the warmth of her skin rush over my entire body.

“See you tonight,” she says with another soft smile, walking out the door, leaving me to stare after her. My eyes keep pace with her all the way to her car. She pulls out of my parking lot, leaving me with a hard cock and a few too many hours to think of all the things I want to do to her, anticipation already putting me on edge.