“Are you thinking about kissing me?” I asked.
She shook her head, though her eyes didn’t stray. “No, I’m thinking about what your dick looks like.”
I laughed from way down deep in my belly, shocked in the best way and turned on in the worst. And as the ocean of people waved around us, she rose up on her tiptoes, grabbed a handful of my T-shirt, and pulled.
I caught the smallest breath — a surprised, satisfied gasp — just before our lips met, and fireworks exploded in my brain. The kiss wasn’t soft or sweet; it was strong and determined, those red, red lips pressing against mine, opening to let me into her hot mouth, her tongue finding mine like she’d been looking for it her whole life.
The surprise left me as quickly as it had hit, and I leaned into her, my free arm winding around her back to press her body against mine. There wasn’t an inch of space between us, and all the while, our mouths worked each other’s in a long dance that left my heart chugging like a freight train in my chest.
She pulled away, her lips swollen and eyes lust-drunk as they met mine and held them while she kicked back her drink and grabbed my hand.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” she said.
And I smirked, breathless. “Your place or mine?”
3
MR. DIDDLE
Bodie
For the record, I had every intention of telling her who I was.
It was just that I was so caught up in her as we hurried back to my apartment that my brain had short-circuited, thinking only from my raging hard-on in my pants. I didn’t have time to consider what it meant or what would happen, and I didn’t have the will to break whatever trance I’d found myself in.
I should have been surprised to have her by my side. I should have been confused about how I’d ended up with Penny’s hand in mine. But wondering felt like the absolute first and last thing I should be doing, so I didn’t. And as I towed her toward my apartment, I was unable to consider anything other than the feeling of her fingers twined in mine and the sight of her smiling up at me, eyes shining and hot.
The loft felt like it was on Mars for as long as it was taking to get there.
I took the opportunity to kiss her as we waited for a stoplight to change, slipping my fingers into her purple hair, closing my lips over hers, and she tipped her chin and gave me her mouth, her tongue, with her hands clutching my shirt, pulling me into her like she was starving and I was a porterhouse.
My keys were in my hand before we hit the elevator — another opportunity to kiss her, my fingertips brushing her bare collarbone, down the curve of her breast, around her waist to her ass. I squeezed, pulling her into my cock, pleased with the whimper against my lips.
We practically ran down the hallway. She panted behind me as I unlocked the door, and we tumbled inside.
I closed it behind her and turned. “Hang on, there’s something I need to—”
She launched herself at me, and I caught her, my back hitting the door with a thump, as she wrapped her arms around my neck. Her feet dangled off the ground, and I held her around the waist, kissing her deep.
In that moment, there was no point in stopping to tell her I was the chubby, nerdy kid with glasses she went to high school with. If she even remembered me.
But I remembered her. I’d imagined kissing her a thousand times, but never in my life had I thought I’d ever get the chance. Until now.
I turned her around, the decision made and my mission singular, and pressed her against the door. She pulled my lip between her teeth, and I growled, moving down her neck, nipping and sucking a trail past her collarbone and across the tattoos marking the soft skin of her breasts.
I wanted her naked. I wanted to see every tattoo, every inch of skin. I wanted her in my mouth. I wanted inside of her.
But first, this.
I dropped to my knees, my fingers working the buttons of her shorts. There were four — two on each side of a panel — and my heart thudded in my chest as I dropped that panel to reveal a rectangle of skin covered in tattoos. Flowers framed two pistols just inside her hip bones, barrels angled in a V, pointing down. I slipped my hands into her shorts and around her naked hips, pushing them down her legs, and as she stepped out of them, my eyes caught on the gold barbells above and below the hood of her clit.
“Oh, fuck, Penny,” I whispered, my hands gripping her hips, my lips already on a track for it.
I closed my eyes and buried my face in the sweetness of her.
She braced herself with her hands on my shoulders, murmuring something I couldn’t make out and didn’t try. My tongue rolled against the bottom ball that rested right over her clit, circling until her nails dug into my skin through my shirt.
When I broke away and glanced up, she was looking down, her eyes half-shut and those red fucking lips hanging open in pleasure.
I smirked and lifted one of her legs, hitching it over my shoulder to spread her open. I trailed my hand down, framing her piercing in the V of two fingers, and when I squeezed gently and shifted in a circle, her eyes rolled back in her head that rested against the door, stretching her long white neck out.
For a second, I wished I could be everywhere at once, licking her neck, sucking her lip, my face in her pussy — everywhere. I wanted to devour her. So I started with what I had at my fingertips.
I moved my hand down to cup her, my fingers shifting against the slick line of her core.
“God, you’re soaking fucking wet.” My voice was ragged, my body coiled.
She whispered a plea, begging me with a single word, “Please.”
I happily obliged, licking my lips, bringing them just close enough to her hood that they touched only infinitesimally, waiting for a stretched out second before I slipped my fingers inside at the exact moment I closed my lips over her clit.
“Oh God,” she whispered, bucking against me, closing around my fingers as they slid in, out, in, reaching for the rough spot inside.
Her fingers slipped into my hair and twisted, and mine matched the pace of my tongue.
She clenched around my fingers, pinning me between her thighs as I moved faster, harder, and then …
Then, she came with a cry to a higher power and a burst that I’d be thinking about on my death bed.
As she came down, I slowed, softly kissing and licking her, every flick of my tongue sending another pulse through her pussy around my fingers.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she breathed. “Where the fuck did you come from?”
I closed my lips, reverently kissing her once more before looking up at her with a smile. “Santa Cruz. Loma Vista, Class of 2009.”
Her eyes went wide, and she blinked. “But there wasn’t anyone named Bodie in my class.”
“There was. You just knew me as Diddle.”