This wasn’t a problem. Without a woman or kids in his life, he’d taken patrol for his brothers so often, he had enough markers to be with her a month and still have some to spare.
But he needed to get back on the street.
Tack wanted the Club to claim more territory and the Club had agreed. They’d pushed and they got the same action, just more of it, warning dealers and hookers off their expanded patch.
It had gone easy, too easy. The boys were suspicious. No one was saying anything, and Benito Valenzuela hadn’t struck back, but Joker needed to get on the street. He needed to get the feel of it. Talk to his sources. Get his presence out there. Be one with his brothers and show that to those who should see it.
Carissa didn’t know he did patrol, and he’d have to get into that with her soon. He’d give her that night because she needed it. He’d give himself the next night because it was a big night for him, Carissa, Linus, Mrs. Heely.
But Wednesday, his ass had to be on the street.
So they had to have that conversation.
Not then.
Just soon.
On this thought, he decided he needed another beer. Their plates were on the coffee table, so he also decided they should be in the sink.
He was about to see to that when Carissa moved, suddenly swinging over to straddle him.
He tipped his head back, putting his hands to her hips as he looked to her eyes to see them on his tee.
“Baby?” he whispered.
She lifted her gaze to his. “Need you.”
There was something in her tone. Something he didn’t like. It was the same thing she gave him with her words and the look on her face.
It was need.
But what she needed… no, why she needed it, right then, suddenly swinging astride him, that tone in her voice, the look on her face troubled him.
Regardless, she needed it, so he was going to give it to her.
He slid his hands up her sides and whispered, “Take what you need.”
She took him up on his offer.
But she didn’t kiss him.
She latched on to his tee and pulled it up. He lifted his arms for her and she tugged it free, tossing it behind the couch.
Then she went in.
Not to his mouth.
To his neck.
She spent time there then curved her back to give the same to his chest.
His nipples.
Down, he opened his legs as she slid off his lap onto her knees on the floor.
Fuck.
Fuck.
She was going to suck him off.
She hadn’t done that yet, and just the thought of watching her honey curls spread around his crotch as she worked him with her mouth made his cock, already stiff with what she’d been giving him, throb.
He wanted that.
But she hadn’t gone there. Not yet. He got her loose and gave her good but he did all the work.
This didn’t bother him. He liked it. Got off on it. Got off on her getting off on it.
But even as he wanted it, her giving this to him now didn’t sit right.
She slid her lips across the waistband of his jeans and his voice was thick when he asked, “You takin’ what you need, Butterfly, or givin’ me what you think I need?”
She tilted her head back, fingers to his fly, and he bit his lip as the pulse in his cock pulled up his balls with just one look at her face.
She was in the zone.
Totally.
“I need to give you what you need,” she whispered.
“Baby, let me give that to you,” he whispered back as she released button two.
She shook her head. “Not this time, sweetheart.”
She couldn’t miss he gave it all but still, it felt good knowing she didn’t.
“Carrie—”
Another button then, “You wanna give that to me, let me.”
She wanted it, he’d be insane not to let her have it.
“Okay, baby, not gonna stop you.”
She smiled. It was soft and barely there but it did something to her eyes that made his entire body clench.
Then she dropped her head, finished with his fly and dug her fingers in at the sides of his jeans to yank them down.
His dick flew free and he heard her swift, hot intake of breath before she went for it.
Not leading into it like she’d been starved of it, she grabbed hold, positioned him, and took him deep into her wet, hot mouth.
Jesus.
Fuck.
Joker slid down the couch as his head automatically dropped back and he tightened his body against rearing up, taking over, fucking her mouth, which felt so goddamned sweet.
Then she blew him, and Jesus, no holding back, she sucked hard, she pumped with her hand harder, she took him deep. If she needed a break, she gave it licking, rolling, stroking with her fist.
She could be klutzy. She could get so excited she bumped, slammed, scratched, bit, moved one way when he wanted her to go the other. It was cute. It was a turn on. It was her.
But she fucking rocked at giving head.
“Fuck, Carrie,” he groaned, so far gone he almost didn’t have it in him to warn her she was about to swallow, when he lost her.
That was when she went from giving him good to giving him phenomenal.
“Condom, sweetie,” she whispered, her face flushed, her eyes gone, her movements hurried.
He did as she asked, reaching to his pocket for his wallet, not tearing his eyes from her as she took her feet and ripped her clothes off. Right in front of him. Standing between his legs.
Her eyes were hot and hungry on his cock as he rolled the condom on and he barely got it to the root before she climbed on.
“Need it,” she begged, rolling her hips, and he gave her what she wanted, holding his dick for her to take.
She found the tip and drove down.
Joker clasped her at the waist as she arched powerfully, her head dropping back, giving him hair, jaw, tits, belly, *.
Fuck.
Gorgeous.
“Ride me, baby,” he groaned.
She righted her head and instantly wrapped her arms tight around his shoulders, holding on as she moved, taking him fast and deep, and as usual, vocal. Giving him the whimpers. The mews. The moans. The soft cries. Driving him to the edge.
Her temple pressed to his, she gave him her noises right in his ear as he roamed her skin with his hands. Cupping one breast, he tweaked the nipple, and just with that, she bit his earlobe and her cunt seized his dick.