Mock up some concepts.
Ok. I’ll get a better feel after my DJ debut on Friday.
If you’re serious about that you’re gonna need a refresher.
Then I’ll show you how to cook something simple and you show me how to spin vinyl again.
A game of show me yours and I’ll show you mine. I’m there.
I roll my eyes,but I honestly can’t wait for another naked encounter with Dice. And this time I won’t fall asleep.
Thanks again for watching Queenie and helping me out.
I was very happy to *help* you out.
Later, Jones.
Later, Web.
It’s almost one o’clock when I get Maurice home. He had me driving all over town on errands. Picking up a new hose for the lawn when spring hasn’t even sprung, paint to touch up the side of the house when he’s nowhere near ready to get on a ladder, shaving cream from the drugstore, and clam chowder from The Shipmate. Then he wanted me to make him a sandwich to go with his soup. Naturally, he complained that I used too much mustard. I’m all too ready to hand him over to my mom when she arrives.
“How was it with your father?”
“Just peachy.”
She frowns but doesn’t press me. Daytime lipstick and perfume again. I’m not sure what to make of it. But we’ll have a chance to talk more over dinner tomorrow.
When I reach Dice’s, finding him a smooth dark cure for a bad day, the second the door shuts behind us, I push him up against the oak wood. A surprisedoofleaves hischest.
“Planning an attack?” He catches me by the hips.
“Mm-hmm. The good kind.” I kiss his neck and softly suck his lemon-scented throat.
“Does this mean you missed me?”
“No,” I say and fondle his hard cock through his joggers. “Does this mean you missed me?”
“Fuck yes,” he exhales a harsh breath, his eyes hot, his thumbs brushing over my jaw, lifting my face for a kiss that could set Bayside on fire.
I push his shirt up and drag my mouth down his inked chest and the ridges of his abs to that delectable V. I sink to my knees on the front mat and press my face into his stomach. The muscles flex beneath my touch and a vibration ripples through his body. I lower the waist of his sweatpants to give me greater access and find him commando. I look up at him as I take his audacious cock in both hands. I kiss the tip, and groaning, his head thunks against the door.
I fist the root and take him into my mouth.
“Ahh. Fuck, Lot.”
His hands move to my hair, curling around my locs, not pulling, just finding purchase. I slide my tongue over the wide crown before I hollow my cheeks and suck him in deeper, drawing on him rhythmically, tasting the first salty spurt of pre-cum.
He makes a sound of sweet torture, fighting for breath. “Just like that. Your mouth… fuck, yes.”
Aroused by his pleasure, I squirm and squeeze my legs, bobbing my head faster. I love the way he feels. Thick corded veins, silky smooth skin, steely hardness. The way his touch grows rougher the more lust takes over. Tugging on my locs now, a soft bite of pain has me moaning. I slide him in and out of my mouth and frantically jack him off with one hand, stroking and rolling his heavy sac with the other.
He thrusts his hips, stripped down to the level of base need, where the mind goes hazy and the vital urge to climax is all that matters.
“Lot.” My name is a gut-deep rasp. “I’m gonna come.”
Fair warning, but I don’t need it. I want this. I want to make him unravel. I keep my lips and hand wrapped around him as he fucks my mouth with wild abandon. Mindless in his pleasure, cursing, moaning, ragged breaths. Then a hard shudder, followed by a rumbled sound of ecstasy… just before he spills against my tongue and fills my mouth.
I stay with him until I’ve wrung out every last drop, swallowing and licking him clean. When I release him, his eyes are at half-mast, and he’s slumped against the door. Not gonna lie, it’s gratifying to know I wrecked him.
