The Deal Dilemma

Inside the thick, circular hunk of leather we’re calling home for the next two days, Davis pauses, my back bumping hers before I’m all the way through the opening.

Her fingers squeeze around mine, and after a moment, I pick up on what I expected we’d come back to.

Deep, hushed groans and strangled mews cut off by what can only be a kiss.

“They…” she whispers.

“They’re fucking,” I murmur, ushering her farther into the blackness of the space.

The sound of our shoes falling to the ground seems to echo around us.

“How did you know?” she asks so low, as if she’s afraid they’ll hear, and the air mattress rustles, letting me know she’s lowered herself on top of it.

“They only left us about an hour ago.” There’s not enough space in here to stand without ducking, so lingering isn’t an option. I lower into my designated place beside her.

“Yeah, that’s a whole hour.”

“Not everyone jumps right to it. I’m sure they do when pressed for time, but the lead-up is just as fun. Maybe they spent a while teasing, maybe they started fucking the second they got inside.”

“For an hour?”

“An air mattress isn’t the best of settings.”

She stills, and I hear her shift beside me. “As in, it could go longer?”

It’s not a question, and there’s no doubt in my mind she’s thinking about her little “five minutes of your time” comment from before. Proof is in her next words.

In the way her exhale pushes past her lips, soft and slow. She’s intrigued. Curious.

“How long can you go?” Her question is whispered in the dark, and she settles into the pillow more.

She’s readying herself, the sweeping moans of the others breaking into her concentration, shattering her ability to pay attention, and cutting off her restraint. Just like that, the questions evade her.

Nothing is left but the pulsing of her pussy.

And it is pulsing, the quake washing through her body at the low, gaspy cry from the tent over.

The blankets rustle, and I pull the hem up to her chest as her hand dips between her thighs. Her legs shift beside me, her right one stretching up until it’s met by mine. She pulls in a sharp breath, her shoulders pressing into the pillow behind her head.

It’s dark as shit in here, so dark, I couldn’t see a thing when we slipped inside, but my eyes are hungry and find a way. Like an owl in the night, my vision grows laser sharp, and Davis Franco is my target. Our heads are level with each other’s, her shoulders a little higher than mine, so I’ve got a straight shot of her body beneath the covers.

We brought our own, but somehow, in the darkness of it all, we ended beneath the same one, so with every twitch of her muscles, the comforter shuffles over me.

Her arm trembles beside me as she reaches for herself, and then a little mound is formed beneath the covers. Her sharp inhale is instant, and I know she’s slipped inside her panties now, her soft, delicate fingers slowly grazing over her swollen clit. That inhale whooshes past her lips within seconds.

Heat buds in my chest, knotting its way down. Further and fucking further, until it’s spreading through my cock, drawing my balls up and just like that, with her single breath and the images in my mind I’m rodded beneath my boxers.

Goddamn, the fire we could build…

Her head presses into the pillow more, her swallow hard. “What-what do you think he’s doing to her?”

Her stuttering words, the labored breaths in which she speaks them.

Fuck.

I’m tempted to reach for myself.

To dive beyond my boxers and treat my dick the way she’s treating her pussy, but that’s bound to lead to more. No fucking way will my hands not wander. My gums will be bleeding by the time she’s done tonight.

“What do you think he’s doing to her?” I manage to force out.

A closed-lipped moan escapes Davis, one I know she tried to tamper down.

I’d have your ass for that if you were mine.

Layla’s moan follows, it’s short and quick; Willie’s isn’t far behind, and Davis shocks me with a husky chuckle.

“I think they’re almost there. They sound f-frustrated. Ready to c-come.”

Turning my head, I keep my eyes pointed on the slope of her body, wishing I could see the tautness of her nipples, but focused instead on the increasing speed of her hand.

“I think you’re right,” I whisper slowly, dragging out every word, so the warmth of my breath trickles over the exposed skin of her neck.

She stretches it back, revealing more for me, silently begging for me to reach out and touch it, kiss it. Squeeze it, but just a little.

I want to bite it like I did that day at Willie’s, but only so I can lick it after.

My mouth waters with the need to do just that.

The sounds coming from our neighbors are growing desperate, the air mattress beneath squeaking and grating against the leather of their teepee.

“I’d bet he’s got her on her knees now,” I tell her.

Davis’s leg hikes higher, lifting so it’s now rested over mine, and before I know what I’m doing, my palm is wrapped around her knee.

I pull it even higher, and her back bows.

“Can she… will she…” She gets lost in her own pleasure, that little hand of hers growing frantic.

“Will she finish like that?” I guess her question, and when she gives a swift nod, I confirm, “Oh, yeah. She’ll spread her legs wider for him when she’s close, and he’ll push deeper, thrust harder. His balls will slap at her clit, and after a few full strokes…” My grip tightens, my body gaining a little more control over my mind as I guide my palm higher, the pads of my fingertips sinking into the soft thickness of her thighs. “His wife will come for him. Hard, fast and best of all?” Davis pants into the air, her body quaking against mine. “With his name on her lips.”

“Oh god,” Davis whimpers, and her hand isn’t the only thing moving now.

She rolls her hips, and the lift of the blanket where her knuckles press against the fabric lowers. She’s cupping herself, pressing hard against her most needy spot, and I bet if I weren’t here, she’d flip onto her stomach and ride her closed fist.

Her moans grow deeper, needier, until the sounds slipping past her lips are nothing but anxious cries.

Every nerve ending in my body fires up and I start to sweat, the sounds coming from her too fucking much for this man to handle. I need her to stop.

I need her to come.

“Davis.”

“Mmm,” is the only thing she manages to say, and her sharp intake freezes in her throat, her muscles locking.

“Come, Sweets,” I coo. “Pinch your clit, hard, and squeeze those pussy walls, hmm?” My nose brushes along her shoulder, and she gasps, long and loud.

Her body quakes, and then her head lifts, all to slam back into the pillow as she comes.

The sound, the eager, deprived whimper and the tremble that follows. Fuck me. Her other arm shoots up and I fixate on the movement, anticipating what she plans to do with it.

My Sweets hand slips beneath her shirt, into her bra, and this time, the quiet groan that fills the air might be mine.

She tweaks her nipple and with every move of that hand, she jerks.

Is she pinching or pulling? Flicking or squeezing?

I don’t know, but what I do is that she’s dragging out her orgasm, intensifying it because coming by clit stimulation isn’t enough. She needs more.

This is Davis we’re talking about.

She is more.

It takes several minutes for her breathing to return to normal, and when a soft little sigh floats past her lips, I release her, letting her leg fall limp between us.

My cock rages, weeping for attention, but doesn’t so much as flex.

Not two minutes into the silence a muffled whistling sound breaks through, and both of us break out into a laugh at the same exact time.

Willie’s putting air back into their mattress.

“You nasty little fuckers!” he teases loudly. “I’ll be expecting a standing ovation for my performance tomorrow!”

At that, we all laugh.

Davis’s sleepy sigh follows, and she turns onto her side, tucking the blankets up to her neck, the way she’s always liked them.

“God, I seriously can’t wait,” she mumbles sleepily.

Curious, I turn to face her. “For what?”

The shadow casts perfectly over her face, revealing the slight hitch at the corner of her lips as she says, “To be thoroughly ruined by a man.”

Thoroughly ruined, that’s what she said.

Is she crazy?

Does she not know there are several things you cannot say to a man and that is on the top of the list?

No, she doesn’t. That’s where you come in.

If my girl—she could be yours, you dumb fucker—said something, anything, close to the words Davis left me with last night… there would have been no sleeping.

Not that I got any of that, anyway. It felt like the second my eyes closed, the phone alarm went off, waking my ass right back up. Thank fuck, the day was a busy one, but Saturdays at these kinds of things always are. If it weren’t for Drew being semi-reliable and Paula bringing her cousin on to bus tables on a trial basis, I never would have gotten away from the bar.

That and convincing Julius to stay behind to keep Drew company.

Yeah, that was for straight selfish reasons.

“What are you smirking about over there, asshole?” Willie shouts as he officially douses the coals on the pit, ending our work for the weekend.

“Remembering how quick you were to shoot last night, that’s all.”

“Shit.” He drags out the word. “Lie to me some more.”

“Your wife’s moans don’t turn me on.”

Willie whips me with a towel, and a laugh pushes past my lips.

“Always a funny fucker.” He grins, glancing toward Davis. “We freak the little virgin out?”

A quick, huffed laugh flies from me and Willie’s the one laughing now.

“I knew I heard her!” He tosses the still-wet tongs in the bin, clicking the lid closed. “All airy and soft and shit.”

My mouth waters thinking about it.

The short gasps and warm whimpers.

He said it exactly right.

“So, what happened? You remove the ten-foot pole you cemented between you two for a dumbass reason you won’t share with her?”

My head snaps his way, and I toss the bag of spices into his chest. “Don’t.”

Willie grins, catching the Ziplock with ease. “Oh, my boy and that sexual frustration. So you didn’t come.”

“I’m about to come over there and shove your head in that dirty-ass bucket of dishwater.”

“I will drop to my knees beside it and let you if you go lay one on her right now. I know you’re dying to. Shit, I’m dying for you to.”

“She wants me to fuck her, Will.”

“So do that too.”

“She wants me to fuck her, so she can get it over with.”

“If you think for a minute, the cute little thing doesn’t have your name etched on her organs, you’re a bigger ass than I am.” Willie frowns, but it’s wiped quickly, and he shrugs. Lifting the last of the black tubs, he shoves it into the bed of his truck, slamming the tailgate before leaning against it. “But hey, what the fuck do I know? Looks like she’s having a good time with the flower-power boys.”

A scowl builds over my forehead, and I follow the smoking fucker’s gaze to the clearing. About fifty feet away stands Layla and Davis, the guys who took the Hawaiian theme of their booth far too fucking serious in front of them.

They’re saying something, and both girls laugh, but then Layla stretches, whispering something into Davis’s ear before she heads to the group across the way.

Willie kicks off the truck. “Layla asked the cinnamon roll girls to save her a box. Better get over there before she tries to buy them out of their leftover stock. Have fun watching your woman get hit on.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’ll make room in my tent, sunshine!”

Shaking my head, I stare at Davis’s back.

It’s obvious the guy to her left, the one who definitely perms his fucking hair, is into her.

Every time she turns to say something to the other dude, he uses the moment to look her over, and he likes what he sees.

Who fucking wouldn’t?

Jean shorts stretched over wide, thick thighs with tears along the front, hints of silky skin peeking out from between the small shredding, and a light-pink tank top. It’s simple, stretchy, no more than the upper swell of her breasts visible. It’s modest, but on her, it looks the exact fucking opposite. Her collarbone and neck, her slender, delicate throat, it’s all on full display, begging to be brushed along. To be touched and teased.

She loves that shit.

The asshole slowly slipping closer, eager to possess all of her attention, is looking to score, but he’s way out of his league.

She’s not even blushing, but she will be.

Downing a water in one go, I toss the bottle into the lawn chair and head right for her.

She’s saying something about hops and ginger, explaining Willie’s beers, maybe, so she doesn’t see me coming. Left guy does though. Right too.

Their eyes flick from her to my approaching body and back, the grins on their faces growing forced. Spinning my hat backward, I reach out, slide my middle finger through the loop of those jean shorts of hers and tug.

She locks herself straight, swiftly looking over her shoulder with a frown, but then she sees it’s me, and the fucking smile that spreads…

A different kind of heat presses at my chest.

I yank her harder, until her back is bumping into my front, and that velvety giggle of hers finds my ears. I bury my face in her neck, just along the hairline, below her ear, as my arms snake around her and she tips her head slightly, pressing her cheek to mine for a short moment.

Righting myself, I look straight into the man on the left’s eyes, my face blank. “Nice shirt.”

A tight chuckle leaves him. “Yeah, uh, thanks. Goes with the booth so… but hey, we should”—he clears his throat—“we should pack some things up, so it’s not such a pain in the morning. You guys enjoy your night.”

I wait for her to spin in my arms. To point a little glare my way or raise a perfectly shaped brow.

She doesn’t do either of those things.

She drops her head against my chest and takes a small sip from her cup. Unfazed. Accepting. Disconnected from the men vying for her attention and willing to give it all to me.

Just like that.

I like it.

The sound of the live band grows louder then, so I turn us toward where they’re playing, a few dozen yards away, and after a couple minutes, she begins swaying to the music, her back never once lifting from its place against my chest.

It’s not long before the sun falls behind the trees, the rest of the vendors joining in on the entertainment, and those slow sways of hers turn into full hip rolls.

Rolls that flow through her entire body.

I press my lips to her ear. “What are you doing?”

“What you taught me.”

I can hear her smile, and it prompts one of my own.

“I taught you to dance like you’re fucking? Like you fucked your hand last night?”

“Ask me what I thought about.”

Goddamn. A quick, playful response.

“Nice try, Sweets.” My words are more a needy groan than anything.

Davis’s laughter is low, tender, and I want to hear it again.

I want a lot of fucking things.

My hands press farther into her pockets, discovering they’re not pockets at all as I slip beyond the fabric, meeting and molding the slope of her warm thighs, and she doesn’t stiffen or slow. The girl keeps dancing like it’s the most natural thing, me holding her like this. Close, tight, and tipped at the edge of her panties. If I slide my hands a quarter of an inch over, my pointer fingers would rest on either side of her clit. I could make her come, right here, and no one would know it.

I want to.

I might.

“I had so much fun this weekend,” she shares. “People loved Willie’s beer. I think we’re one of the only beer vendors who sold out.”

“That’s ’cause he’s smart. He knew all these assholes would keep coming if it meant they could talk to the pretty little thing serving it to them.”

“Ha ha,” she teases, swatting at my arm, but I quickly pull one hand out, catching hers and bringing it to my mouth.

“I’m not playin’. I watched them watch you from the line, like I knew they would. Why do you think I put the tables on both sides of your booth?” I graze my teeth over her knuckles, gliding my lips from the first to the last, and instead of letting her hand fall, I lock it around my neck, grazing my jaw over the spot within reach. I haven’t shaved since Friday morning. The goose bumps rising along her skin tell me she’s got no complaints. “I did that so they couldn’t step any closer to what they want but can’t have.”

She chuckles, peeking over her shoulder with playful, narrowed eyes. “Are you trying to get fresh?”

The corner of my mouth tips up the slightest bit. “Who me?”

“No, the other man touching me.”

“No other man is allowed to touch you, Sweets.” I hold her gaze. “Not unless I say.”

She faces forward with a smile. “And you love that, don’t you?”

“Fuck yeah.” My lips hook up, my mouth running dry as I stare at the slope of her neck. The beat of the pulse there. “And now they’re watching.”

“Who?”

“Those pineapple punks.”

“It’s the backward hat. And the sleeveless tee. The tattoos. My god, the tattoos,” she teases as if I’m the attraction, reaching up to flick my hat.

“Oh, you wanna be cute, hmm?” I press her into me more. “Wrong, but cute.”

The band changes tempo, and the motions of our bodies adjust effortlessly.

“It’s the pretty-in-pink brunette with big brown eyes and a deadly smile they’re staring at, curious if she’s with the man holding on to her, or if I’m just a luckier bastard than they are tonight.”

Davis laughs, and I cock my head in time to see her tongue slipping out to slide along her lush lips. We’re still dancing; she’s still facing forward, so she’s not doing it for my benefit. She’s not being a temptress, trying to capture my attention.

Little does she know, she’s got it.

Had it.

Owns it.

I grip the short, sleek strands of her hair. It’s shorter than it’s ever been, the tips only long enough to graze her collarbone, so I have to hold it in place or let it fall forward again. I want the area clear. I want to see the gleam of her skin.

I’m not sure if she tips her head or if I tug the shiny locks leading her to, but suddenly, her neck is stretched long, exposed and prickling with goose bumps, without so much as a touch.

My body takes over, my head lowering until my mouth meets her satiny skin, but I don’t taste. I press it against her, soft at first, and then a little harder, maintaining the same amount of pressure as it rises. Up and up, until my nose is buried in her hair. I kiss the back of her neck, my left hand coming around to slide my knuckles down her throat.

“Now, they’re all watching.” I spin her, and her arms come up, wrapping around my neck without direction.

She smiles, holding me loosely. “What are you up to?”

“Hypothesizing.”

“Oh, talk dirty to me.” She’s quick to play along.

Chuckling, I tug her closer.

Knew she’d like that, my little science nerd.

Amusement brightens the gold in her eyes as she waits with bleeding curiosity.

My palms slide up her waist, my fingers spreading wide, wrapped around her upper rips.

Cocking my head a bit, I hover there, waiting for hers to lift, and it does.

“What would they do if they thought you were mine?” I draw closer, my eyes snapping to her lips and back. “Would they keep standing there, wondering what kind of panties you have on under your shorts, or will they move on to another? Take the L?”

“They’re blue with pink popsicles.”

Heat floods my chest, a low rumble fighting to get free, and I glide my thumb along her top. “Same pink as this?”

“Exact same.” Her smile is wide. “Wanna see?”

My brows snap together, and as if she knew what was coming, knew exactly how I’d react and watch for it, she throws her head back with a laugh.

My eyes fly down, locking on to the creamy skin, now fully and completely bared to me.

The thin thread of sanity still attached to my conscience snaps.

I dive down, swiping my tongue along her throat, and sending mine into a full fucking roar. My mouth waters at the salty, sweet flavor of her skin, and I slide a little to the right. My teeth find her pulse, and I press against it, close my lips around the throbbing beat and suck.

She gasps, tugging me closer, holding me tighter, and I reward her by sucking harder, her little cry sending a shiver down my spine.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck.

More.

Yanking back, my eyes connect with hers. The air in my lungs grows thick, harsh, each breath pulled in burning fiercer than the last, as if a true inferno is blazing between us, it’s raging, and the girl in front of me lit the match. She is the match.

There’s no doubt in my mind there’s a sweet little minx hidden inside her on the verge of discovery.

She’s so fucking needy, I can taste it.

I want to taste her.

All of her.

No way I could kiss her and not claim her, but she’s not looking to be claimed. She wants to feel, not fall.

So, I’ll settle for the sounds she makes, and when I get a minute to myself, I’ll replay them over and fucking over, my cock gripped tight in my hand.

“It worked. They’re not paying attention to us anymore.”

My tone is deep and raspy, and Davis swallows in front of me.

“They know you must be mine now.”

Her eyes glow in eager affection, ready for what may or may not come, and a thrill races down my spine.

“Turn around, Sweets.”

Davis shivers in my arms, desire deepening the brown of her eyes. “A lesson?”

Lesson. Right.

I don’t answer, but she wasn’t looking for one.

She rolls her body rather than turning, refusing to allow a single inch of space between us as she faces herself forward. Once her back is flat to my chest, her head follows, and I can’t resist dipping mine.

Chin rested along her temple, I’m the first to start dancing this time, and her hips follow instantly.

“I want to make you feel good,” I whisper, slowly sliding my hands into her front pockets, my earlier fantasy playing on repeat in my mind.

“I want everything you want.”

If fucking only, baby. If only…

I graze my stubble along her skin, and she swallows. “So, you won’t stop me if I touch you right here, right now?”

“Do I look like a crazy person?”

A chuckle slips from me, but I choke on it when her breasts push out with her deep inhale, and she reaches up, gripping the neckline of her top. She presses against her tits, and I wonder if she wishes she could reach inside and tug on her nipples.

“Crew?”

“Hmm?”

“Touch me.”

My chest rumbles, and I tip my head, nipping at the skin of her neck, my pulse hammering through my fingertips as my hands dive a little deeper. The teeniest, tiniest bit. My cock threatens to thicken, swelling in size as my pointer finger finds the little puff of her pussy lips hidden behind the thin cotton of her panties.

Davis gasps, her movements pausing for a single second, but she starts dancing as quickly as she stopped. A little slower, a little more out of rhythm, but she’s moving.

The crowd around has grown fuller, the music louder, and the night darker. I spotted Willie and Layla a few minutes ago, both leaning on a tree and talking to a few others. I know he’ll head this way soon, so I need to get to work.

We’re tucked in with the masses and we’re not coming out until my fingers are coated in her cum.

I curve straight for her clit, pressing over it with little to no pressure, nothing but a thin layer of cloth keeping me from discovering how silky soft she is.

I’m instantly flooded with heat, hers radiating off my own and sweeping through my body. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and my hips jerk the slightest bit, my dick desperate for friction.

As if she knows what I need, she presses her ass into me, a shaky breath breaking beyond her lips. “Want to know something?” she whispers.

I slip past the hem of her panties, her pussy flexing in response, somehow finding the restraint not to dive right in. “Will it drive me mad?”

“Oh, no doubt in my mind.”

Fuck. I clench my teeth, so I say nothing and so I don’t bite the shit out of her. She takes my silence as her answer.

“I thought it was a poor figure of speech when women would say, ‘he made my panties wet,’ but I can now testify, it is, in fact, not.” She squirms. “It’s so not.”

“You telling me you’re wet for me, Sweets?” I groan. “That when I slide a little farther, my fingers will find a puddle of proof waiting for me?”

“Keep talking like that and people will think I pissed myself.”

Chuckling, I go for it. I dive into her panties, covering her smooth pussy with my palm, and push lower. My middle fingers press between her lips, and I swipe deeper, dragging her juices up until I’m painting her pussy with her own arousal.

My chest caves, the soft slickness of her too much, but somehow not enough.

My abdomen grows taut, an unnatural need to make her come undone burning along my skin.

I kiss her neck, swiping my tongue in sync with the stroke of my fingers, and soon, she’s rolling her hips for an entirely different reason. I pretend the sensitive spot is her full, pouty fucking lips. Sucking it into my mouth like I would her tongue, massaging it with my own, but only after I scrape my teeth along it.

Davis gasps and the fucking sound!

My cock begs for mercy he won’t get.

Locking her clit between my fingers, I give a little pinch, but my left hand dips farther, teasing at the edge of her entrance. Rolling her clit with my right, I press the tip of my pointer finger inside her, and she bites down on her lower lip.

I want to bite it back.

I want her to bite me.

She moans, both her hands coming up to dive into my hair. My hat’s flipped off and falls to the grass somewhere, but I don’t care.

Her hands lock around me, pulling my head down as she tries to stretch higher, and I’m close enough to flick her tit with my tongue.

Davis shakes, turns her head, and nips at my jaw.

My eyes slice to hers and hers widen at the sight.

I can only imagine how wild I look, like a man on the edge of a mountain, dying to dive off it. Head-fucking-first.

I’ve got a fucking priceless prize in my palms, and I’m not talking about her pussy, though it deserves the same appreciation. Pure and fucking perfect. Dripping.

I can hardly believe she’s in my hands. I want to devour her, own her.

I want to ruin her, so all she’ll ever crave is me and my touch.

She holds my gaze, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth.

“What is it, Sweets?”

“Say something bad?” she begs.

My hips thrust forward on their own, grinding into her, and her pupils flash.

“You want me to talk dirty to you?” Eyes locked on hers, I push my finger inside her, lips parting with her small nod. Fuck. “You want me to tell you how wet you are? How soft and tight?” I groan as I pick up speed and lower my mouth to her ear. “How fucking hard you make me?”

She whimpers and I add another finger.

Davis winces from the added intrusion, her body stretching wider to allow me inside, but a throaty moan follows, so I press in farther, grinding her into me as I work her over faster.

“How all I can think about is putting you on your back and sliding my cock inside you, filling you until you scream? Until you cream all over me because you would.” I press harder, and she starts to shake. “Over and over. And over.”

I close my lips over her earlobe, grazing my teeth on both sides, and she whimpers. “And then I’d taste you. Lick up your slit until there was nothing left.” I moan. “I’d push you to your knees, so you could try the flavor of us, straight off the tip of my throbbing, dripping cock.”

She cries, burying her face in my chest.

“I bet we’d be sweet, Sweets. I bet you are.”

She comes apart, her thighs clamp together, trapping my hand, so I leave it there, pressing against her, my fingers still inside. Her pussy walls spasm around me, and my chest rumbles, my cock swollen and aching.

As fast as she came, her body grows heavy, so I carefully tug my right hand free, wrapping it around her middle to hold her to me.

I sway us there, waiting until the aftershock ripples fade.

Slowly, and with uneven breaths, Davis lifts her head, half-hooded eyes locking with mine. Her skin is flushed with a blush I earned. Her temples slick with sweat I put there.

And then she fucking says, “There’s only one way to know for sure.”

For a millisecond, I’m lost, in her words, in her eyes. In the sweet, sexy little smile curving the corner of her lips, but just as quick, a thrill shoots through me, drawing up my balls and sending a shock wave through my dick.

“Taste me, Crew.” An impossible pink colors her cheeks. “Taste me while I watch.”

Fuuuuck.

I thrust my fingers deep inside her, and she gasps, tensing slightly, but the wicked gleam that flitters across her face is pure pleasure. She fucking wants this.

Wants to see me suck her cum straight off my fingers.

Pulling my hand out, I slowly bring it to my lips, my mouth salivating with each torturous second that passes. I might fucking drool.

My lips part, the smoky scent of her invading my nostrils, and I savor it for a second.

A second too fucking long because just as my finger hovers between my open lips, a hand slaps onto my shoulder and smacks my arm down to my side.

My head jerks left, coming face-to-face with Willie—the motherfucker with the worst timing—grins.

“’Sup, you up for a game of dice before we hit the sack?” He looks from me to Davis, and his head snaps my way so fast, he’s forced to double blink. His eyes narrow. “Or maybe not…”

“Definitely not.”

“Yeah, for sure!”

We answer at the same time, and now my attention swings to Davis.

She attempts to step away, but my arm is an iron rod around her, locking her to me, and that bitch isn’t letting go. It’s got a mind of its own and wants to keep her there. Right against me.

Mine.

The fog in my head must be denser than I realized, as the next thing I know, she’s somehow breaking free, her body having slipped beneath my arm.

Layla’s quick to hook her hand through Davis’s and off they fucking go, but not before Davis shoots me a sly, little smirk.

Oh, you’re gonna get it, Sweets. I’ll remember this.

Every.

Fucking.

Second of it.