"Pax," I say softly.
He looks down at me, and I think he wants to say something. Maybe something too emotional. Maybe he's afraid to make a promise he won't keep. Whatever he wants to say, Pax chickens out.
Rather than using words, Pax shows me how he feels with a good, hard fuck. Not hard and ugly like with Howie. This is something amazing. Pax might have magic hips or a supernatural cock. I just know the pleasure makes me cuss like a sailor and come like a porn star.
16
Pax
Worship Me
Fucking Bebe is better than I dreamed. Maybe I lack imagination. She feels so perfect that I worry she'll run off once the last drop of cum pumps from my cock. Bebe proves me wrong again by exploring my tats with her tongue.
Bebe licks the skull tattoo circling my bicep. "When did you get this one?"
I start to answer until we hear Lula's coughing on the monitor. Pausing, we wait to see if she wakes up. When she remains quiet, Bebe nips gently at the flesh of my armband.
"Got that one when I became an enforcer. You know, because I leave behind a graveyard."
"Doesn't Ford have the same tat?" she asks. "Did you copy him?"
Slapping her ass, I'm startled by how Bebe gasps. Our gazes meet, and I worry a little rough touch will piss her off. For a long moment, she stares at me before smiling.
"If you spank me, I'll spank you. Keep that in mind, sir."
Even grinning at the idea of her spanking me, I roll my eyes and return to the tattoo conversation. "Why does everyone always assume I'm copying Ford?"
"Because he's older. I copied my sister."
"How?"
"You know how girls crimp their hair?"
"No."
Sitting up, Bebe shows me on her hair how the style works. I try to care, but she's naked, and I can feel the heat coming from her pussy. Thinking is hard enough when she's dressed, but this is fucking impossible.
"So I thought crimped hair look stupid," Bebe says, brushing her lips against the Reaper tattoo on my ribcage. "Then Sabine and her friends did it, and I changed my mind. When she decided to wear animal prints, I wore them too. Sabine seemed cool, so I copied her. Ford is cool, right?"
"Yah, I guess. He's lame a lot too."
Leaning forward to suck at the tattoo just above my nipple, Bebe sighs. "Ford is whiny, and he smells weird sometimes."
I frown darkly at her. "When does he whine?"
"All the time. He's always complaining like a little bitch. Well you know how he is."
"Ford doesn't whine," I growl.
Bebe grazes my stomach with her teeth then grins up at me. "I know, but look how cool he suddenly is when someone else shits on him. You're a little bro, and you want to be like your big bro. No harm in that, assuming your big bro doesn't suck."
"Well played, baby."
Running her tongue down my inner thigh, Bebe zeros in on my cock. I nearly come the moment she slides me down her throat. My hands grip the sheets while she sucks me slow and deep. When my hand grips her hair, Bebe smiles and licks the head. I want to tell her how fucking hot she looks. Before I can, she grips my cock then bobs her head up and down faster and faster. My body clenches with need, and I think I say her name. I go fucking blind and deaf for a minute. All I can feel is pleasure.
Bebe sucks me dry and leaves me worshipping at the altar of her blowjob skills. When I imagine how she learned to give head so good, my temper flares. Wolfman doesn't deserve to speak to a woman as amazing as Bebe, let alone to have fucked her.
"Did that hairy loser teach you to suck cock?" I ask as she rests her head on my thigh.
"No. Sabine and I practiced on vegetables. First with carrots before graduating to cucumbers."
"Man, you were the frigging Brady Bunch, weren't you?"
"You mean secretly kinky?"
Grinning, I watch her climb over my lap and nestle next to me. "Are you tired yet?"
"No."
"Good. I need more before we call it a night."
Bebe's focus is on the smiling skull tattoo on my shoulder. Watching her trace it with her finger, I admire the way her dark lashes flutter against her pale skin.
"I've been wanting to ask you something," I say, caressing her thigh, "but I worried about putting you in a bad mood."
Bebe flashes a glance at my face then returns to the tattoo. She kisses the flesh softly then nips at the blade sticking from the top of the skull.
"Let me be a killjoy and ask anyway. How did your mom die?"
Nuzzling her cheek against my arm, she stares at where my fingers tease her knee.
"Two girls were fighting over a corner or maybe it was clients. They were on the street, screaming in the middle of rush hour. Mom tried to talk them down before Howie's brother showed up. She was trying to help, but one of the girls shoved her into traffic." When Bebe pauses, I wonder if she'll cry. She doesn't. "I don't know if it's true, but the doctor said Mom died quickly and didn't suffer."
"I'm sorry."