“Lose the towel, Web.”
She untucks the fold, and it falls like a surrender. She watches our reflection. Me, still dressed. Her, bare. Tits full and heavy, areoles the size of quarters, dark copper nipples pouting pretty. Belly marshmallow soft. Hips round and wide like a bell. Skin brown satin.
“You’re exceptional,” I murmur. “Everything about you is perfect.”
“Seducing me, Jones?”
“Maybe. But I also mean it.”
I take my time rubbing the butter into her breasts, cupping them in my hands, kneading them. She leans into my touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.
I shift to slide down her torso and her stomach, supple beneath my hands. Then work on her lower back.
“Mmm,” she hums, watching us through half-open eyes. “You missed your calling.”
“Wanna keep me as your personal masseuse?”
“Just might,” she breathes.
I crouch to do her calves and shins, her feet, thenglide my fingers over the fronts and backs of her thighs, to the lush curves of her ass—massaging slow, deep, and deliberate.
She glances back at me, pink lips parted. “You tryna start something?”
“Nope. This is just the appetizer,” I say, my voice low. Then I kiss the back of her neck and smack her ass, loving that jiggle. “Better go get dressed before I change my mind.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Lot
You might not like the answers.
Iwiggle into my body-con dress. A coffee-brown mini with long sleeves, cut off one shoulder. Next I pull on my over-the-knee boots, leaving my legs bare like an exclusive invitation for Dice. My skin’s still warm from his hands, and my head’s a little hazy from everything he did… and didn’t do. He touched me like he was relearning the map. Then he stopped.
Intentionally leaving me panting and wanting more. So Dice.
I finish pinning some of my locs to the side when he emerges from the shower. He’s the definition of a chick magnet. Beard trimmed. Insanely handsome. Smelling neck-sucking good. There’s no help for the way my body reacts. It’s visceral, instinctive, which only makes it harder to rein in my rioting emotions.
We exchange heated gazes. Mine on his broad chest, hard abs, black Calvins cradling his big cock. Just the thought of how he feels inside me, has me wanting to skip dinner and go straight for dessert.
He whistles low. “Damn, Web. Give me a spin.”
I do, showing the way the dress sculpts my ass.
“Can’t wait to get you naked.”
“You just had me naked.”
“Yeah, but seeing you covered makes me wanna unwrap you. I’ll be thinking about that all through dinner.”
So will I. “Need some help getting dressed?” I ask.
“Won’t say no.”
I grab his pants, a gunmetal gray, hanging over the chair and move to him, adding a swing to my hips, grinning inside when he bites his lower lip. I crouch for him to step into them, then I drag them up his legs, innocently brushing my fingers across his cock, feeling the satisfying twitch and the way his abs contract when I fasten the hook.
Next, I lift the black knit sweater he’d laid out on the bed and step back to him. He slides his arms through the sleeves, and I smooth it into place, my fingers grazing warm flesh as I button it up to the eagle on his chest. The fitted cardigan without a shirt is Dice’s own brand. Sharp, stylish, and sexy.
“You look good, Jones.” I scratch his beard, loving the soft, dense feel of it. “I got to wrap my very own gift.”
