She turns around and peers at me from under her eyelashes, slowly reaching behind her to unclasp her bra as I lean against the wall and drink in the show she’s about to treat me to.
“Go on, girl,” I urge, crossing my arms against my chest as I bite the inside of my cheek and watch the straps slide down her arms and expose her to my hungry eyes.
Her thumbs slide into the waistband of her pants, dragging them down her legs before she steps out of them.
“No panties?”
“Not tonight,” she says, reaching behind her to pull her hair out of the clip. Her back arches and her perky tits salute me. “Give me your phone,” she says, shaking out her long hair so it falls down her back and over her shoulders.
Fucking gorgeous.
Curiously, I pull my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and hand it to her, watching as she pushes her breasts together and snaps a photo of herself. Bending over, she angles her phone and snaps another photo of her heart-shaped ass.
“Damn, girl,” I groan.
She straightens up, eyes on me as she takes two steps closer and spreads her legs. Holding the phone with both hands she lowers it so the lens is level with her pussy and snaps another picture.
“Don’t say I never give you anything,” she teases as she tosses the phone back, clarifying I’m not the only one leaving reminders behind.
I catch the phone, place it down on the dresser before closing the distance between us. With one hand I reach behind me, my ribs are still bruised but I don’t react to the twinge pulling across my midsection as I pull my shirt over my head.
“You want something in return, girl?”
“Depends what you’re offering,” she says coyly, placing both hands on her bare hips as she winks at me.
I don’t offer anything instead I drop to my knees and take what I want and give her what I know she needs, placing my open mouth over the lips of her pussy and pushing my tongue between them. Her hands fall from her hips to my shoulders and her nails dig into my skin as my tongue lavishly strokes her.
Starving.
Insatiable.
I feed off her, lapping at her clit, sucking on it until her hands are in my hair, pulling it begging me to take her over the edge.
Not yet.
Girl needs to squirm a little. That’s right, grind on me girl.
“Blackie…” She shrieks as I slip two fingers insider her.
“Give it to me, girl,” I grunt against her pussy, pumping my fingers to the same beat my tongue is playing.
Give me something to dream of when I’m off the grid.
Give me something to remember in case I break my promise to you and can’t come back.
I feel her tighten around my fingers, hear her cry out in ecstasy as I continue to selfishly take my memory from her, ingraining it to my mind, body and soul as she loses control over my mouth. Her body goes lax after the tremors subside and I slowly pull my mouth away from her. I lift my eyes to hers and lick my lips, savoring the taste to my palette.
“Fuck, Blackie,” she says breathless, dropping to her knees as she takes my face with her hands. Leaning forward, her tongue sneaks out tasting what’s left behind of her on my mouth.
“You like that don’t you? That’s all you, girl,” I speak against her mouth. Taking hold of her face I pull back and stare into her dark eyes, only they’re not dark with demons but dark with lust.
On our knees, arms wrapped around one another, mouths fused together, the both of us wishing tomorrow never comes.
But it does.
And I kiss Lacey goodbye, promise to come back to her and pray that I do.
I love you, girl.
Chapter Forty-Eight
The bitch sucking me off has a mouth like a Hoover vacuum, thank Christ because her face is brutal. I try to thread my fingers through her over processed red hair but the knots make it a chore. Instead, I arch my hips and bury my cock deeper into her mouth—the head hits the back of her throat and she gags.
“Prez, someone here to see you,” Dipstick says, dropping onto the couch beside me. The prospect watches on as the red head continues to choke on my cock. “I’d be happy to take your place while you handle business.”
“Fuck that,” I sneer. “Tell whoever it is I need five minutes,” I grunt, pumping my hips faster, ignoring the bitch choking on her knees.
“You don’t have five minutes.”
I know that fucking voice. It grates on my nerves like nails on a chalk board. I think it’s the fucking accent. I never cared for the Russian tongue, I wonder if ginger over here is a Ruski. That would explain why I haven’t splattered my shit across her face yet.
I stare up at the impeccably dressed Russian gangster as his eyes take in the bitch slurping my dick.
“Jealous? Don’t you worry, Vladimir, I’ll give you a turn.”
His blue eyes pierce me with a lethal gaze and I swear my cock goes soft.
“Not my type,” he declares.