Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Dice
You got this thing insured?
Coming home to a woman feels as unfamiliar as waking up next to one had. But it’s Lot. And I can’t wipe the grin off my face.
Whet Wednesday stayed steady till around eight, but I knew Benny could close out on his own. I shot Lot a text.
Hey, boss, mind if I dip early?
Is it an emergency?
Yep. Got a hot woman waiting at home.
Then you better hurry.
On my way… be ready.
I stay ready.
Not just trash talk. She’s standing there in this slinky little black satin, two-piece.
Thin straps barely holding up a draped top that plunges low enough to make my blood spike.
Her skin’s catching the light, and those tiny shorts, riding high on her thighs, look like they were stitched together just to test my self-control.
Queenie slinks around the corner, shoots me a disgruntled meow, then flicks her tail and heads back to where she’d come from.
“I thought we were cool,” I say.
“You’ve got some trust to earn back. She thinks you scandalized me this afternoon.”
“Me?” I feign umbrage. “I was the helpless lamb.”
“That makes me the big, bad wolf,” she says, sliding her hands up my chest, full of tease.
“More like a wildcat.” I lift her off the floor and crash my mouth to hers.
She wraps around me—legs, arms, all of her. Kissing me back like she’s been counting down the minutes, just like I had.
I bury my face in her neck. She smells sweet, warm. Edible. “I never know what scent to expect with you. What’s this one?”
“Whipped mango and vanilla,” she murmurs. “I’m obsessed with body butters.”
“I’m obsessed with them too.” I lick her throat like I’m tasting ice cream and walk us backward. We drop to the couch with her still wound around me, straddling my lap.
“Ooh. You are ready.” She gives me that little corner-lipped grin as she wiggles against my cock.
“Been like this all night,” I confess, “thinking about you.” Then I kiss her again. Fast tongues, desperate breaths, all greedy tension. Like a prelude to something we both need too much to slow down.
My hands grip the curves of her ass, fingers sliding into the seam of her shorts, and I press my face to her cleavage, fantasizing about fucking that soft, perfect valley.
I’m usually an ass man, but with Lot I’m into everything.
She’s built like she’s made for pleasure, all supple warmth and sensual power.
“Take off your shirt,” she says, her voice breathy, her hips grinding, setting off sparks like flint against stone.
She unbuttons my polo, heat in every motion.
Once it clears my head, her fingers comb down my chest, grazing the eagle tattoo, then drift up to my shoulders.
She traces the spider. Black ink, still clean and sharp.
Her fingertips linger at the thorax where the artist packed in the darkest ink.
So dense, it almost turns blue if you catch it in the right light.
It’s more than a tattoo. It’s a memory.
Lot’s eighteenth birthday. We’d gone together to get inked.
Her first one. She chose a web. That had been the idea from the start, a marking of how we met.
The spider and the web. She got hers on the back of her arm.
I held her hand through the buzz and sting, through the thin, intricate lines becoming permanent.
Her hand slides to my waistband. I stop thinking. She pops the snap, then eases down the zipper. I suck in a breath and lift her camisole over her head.
Fuck. Copper nipples peaked like bullets jut out from softly rounded plump breasts. Faded stretch marks make wavy lines on her whiskey-brown skin. She’s like cask-strength bourbon—bold and rich with a smooth burn.
I palm her in my hands. “Nice rack, Web.”
She laughs, nips my bottom lip, and frees my cock. It springs out with so much force it nearly slaps her stomach. “You got this thing insured?”
“Why? You about to break it?”
“Just might.”
I cup her throat, pulling her mouth to mine. “Do damage, wildcat. Ride me hard.”
“Think you can handle all this?” she asks with sex in her grin.
“I might be the one to break you.”
“In your dreams, Jones.” She climbs off my lap and shimmies out of her shorts. Zero hesitation or inhibition. She’s always been confident. Unapologetically herself. It’s what pulled me in then. It’s what has me still.
I stare at her. Wide, curvy hips, round belly, thick, dimpled thighs. Pussy mostly bare except for a small, shaved triangle in the center and a thin line that trails down between her lips like a martini glass.
My mouth waters and my cock swells.
She fondles one breast and skims her other hand down her stomach, circling her navel where a black onyx dangles from a gunmetal barbell. Then she walks her fingers lower and dips them between her legs.
“Goddamn!” I shuck off my jeans and underwear and stroke my cock from head to root, gaze locked on her play.
She watches me too, lips parted on quick moans, hips slowly rolling. A private show meant to drive me crazy. Deliberate payback for making her beg last night.
But there’s no shame in my game. Pride’s got nothing on hunger.
“Lot…” I groan, jaw tight, neck tendons straining. “I’m about to spill all over my hand.”
With a gloating smirk, she removes her hands from her body. I catch her wrist and bring her wet fingers to my lips and suck them into my mouth.
“I’m done playing. I need to fuck you. Now.”
“Condom,” she murmurs, when my mind had blanked on that.
Never have I forgotten about protection before. Around Lot, my brain is a fucking sieve.
She grabs her purse off the floor and digs inside, tossing me a packet and taking out a tube of lubrication and a purple compact case.
“My handy companion,” she says, shaking the case. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. Toys are always welcome to the party.” I roll the thin latex over my erection, hissing from how hard I am.
She lubes up the handheld device that has a little suction head and straddles my thighs, bracing her knees on the couch.
I kiss her mouth, her breasts, lick and suck her nipples, my fingers sliding through her dripping hunger, rubbing up and down. “Christ, you’re soaked.”
“It’s all for you.”
Her words slam into me. My blood rages. I smack my hands on her ass, making the cheeks jiggle.
She moans and I smack them again with a little more sting. Then I lift her over me, my ab muscles flexing with anticipation and barely there restraint. She puts one hand on my shoulder and reaches beneath her to position my cock.
I feel the head start to push past the ring. Sweat trickles down my spine as she sinks lower and just keeps going, until her ass is flush against my thighs.
She emits a cry and a breath whooshes out of me. She’s so warm and tight. All these years of yearning and now I’m sheathed inside her for the first time, our faces, mere inches apart.
She closes her eyes, and I can sense her agitation, feeling overwhelmed too.
“Web?”
Her lids flutter open, gazing up from under thick lashes. Our joined bodies strain with the need to mate, but neither of us move. Not yet. Silence. Stillness. Only the mingling of our quick, heavy breaths.
“You good?”
“Yeah,” she murmurs, regaining control. Then without warning, she starts to ride me. Slowly at first, swiveling her hips, building the tension before she goes wild like a Saturday-night cowgirl on a mechanical bull. Her ass slams against my thighs, moans streaming from her throat.
Lust boils in my veins, bubbling over. I clutch her hips tighter and drive upward, pumping into her, feeling her clenching around my cock. Her breasts bounce up and down as she takes the force of each thrust with a counter thrust of her own. It’s rough and raw. Complete. Fucking. Heaven.
The room is drenched with heat and filled with the wet slap of our bodies. I never want this to end. I could fuck her for hours, for days, for—I let that word die.
Neither of us is vocal, too lost in the moment to even speak.
Every filthy, dirty, lusty word sticks in my head, in my throat.
My chest. My body fights not to come too soon.
I fumble on the couch for the vibrator that she seems to have forgotten.
Lot takes it from me and slides it between her legs, flipping the switch to start the vibration.
I feel the buzz powering through her to me.
She throws her head back, moaning like a woman possessed. Her eyes are glazed and out of focus. I take a nipple into my mouth, layering in another sensation.
“Gawwwd, Dice.” She works the toy against her clit while winding her hips over my cock. Her thighs tremble as her teeth clamp over her rosy bottom lip.
I lunge upward. Once, two times. On the third, a keening sob rips out of her… then sharp shudders rack her luscious body.
It’s a thing of beauty watching her in the throes of pleasure, feeling her hard contractions squeezing me. I wait until she’s slipping down the other side before I pull out and flip her onto her back against the couch, dislodging the toy.
“I want to be on top,” I pant. “Hold you down and give you every fucking inch of me.”
She makes a little mewling noise as I spread her legs wide and sink into her with one long plunge. Then I slide back out, feeling the clutch of her body trying to gain hold.
I push back in.
Pull back out.
Pushing, grinding, pounding.
My groans are sandpaper rough in my throat. Her moans climb in pitch with every plunge. I press her knees back, opening her up more, fucking harder. Her nails scrape down my waist to my ass. Her hands dig into the flexing muscles, urging me on.
“Ohmygod, Dice. Yes!”
I find the buzzing device and slide it back between us.
She’s flushed and fevered, her eyes dazed.
I can feel her walls squeezing and releasing, feel the vibration of the toy as I race toward my orgasm like a man on fire.
My hands grip her thighs, digging into her flesh.
And when her body starts to spasm like a velvet vise, I come in a red haze of pleasure and feral groans.
I wrap my arms around her and bury my face into the curve of her neck. The toy continues to buzz where it’s fallen nearby. Her skin is warm. Damp. Her breaths, catching. Her hands are on my shoulders. Not hugging me back. Just resting there.
I stay leveled for long minutes, trying to regain some kind of balance.
But I don’t know where the hell it is. Or if I’ll ever get it back.