All I wanted to do was roll my hips, riding Dean’s thick, callused fingers. I didn’t give a flying fuck about the game. And I probably should have felt some mortification that he was fingering me in a very crowded room full of men right now.
But I didn’t care. The only thing I could think about was how good it felt, with the teasing, stroking rhythm of his fingers.
Flirting with Psycho had been intentional. Making sure I was in Dean’s line of sight, I wanted him to see me talking to another man right in front of him. I wanted to ignite that protective, possessive jealousy again.
And it worked.
I swallowed a needy whine as Dean shoved his fingers deeper. Pressing his palm against my clit. Fully cupping his big hand to my pussy like it was his to play with. My eyes threatened to roll back in my head at the sensation, but I had to keep a straight face. I couldn’t give anything away.
“Well, that’s it for me,” Hillbilly said, pushing his chair back from the table. “You cleaned me out. You’re still a ruthless motherfucker when it comes to a card game, Titan. That hasn’t changed.”
“I just play the hand that I’m dealt, Prez,” Dean replied.
He pressed his fingers up inside my pussy hard, grinding his palm against my clit. A strangled little noise escaped me as sparks of pleasure flared through my body like an electrical burst. I could feel the slippery drip of my cream, coating his fingers, damping the crotch of his jeans.
The poker game disbanded, with the remaining players drifting in different directions—getting a refill on their drink, rummaging in the kitchen for food, or pulling up a chair to the television in the corner to watch a Die Hard marathon.
Dean and I didn’t move. Sliding his hand under my ass, he gripped the flesh of my cheek firmly, lifting me off his lap by an inch or two. Beneath the buzz of conversation in the room, I heard the clank of his belt and the gritty rasp of his zipper.
Was he actually about to…?
I turned to look over my shoulder at him, but Dean grasped my chin and pointed my face forward.
“Elbows on the table, honeybee,” he said, low, hoarse. “Start playing with those cards so it seems like you’re busy doing something.”
My throat went dry and my hands trembled with anticipation as I gathered the cards. Mindlessly shuffled them, then laid them out in a game of solitaire. I felt him fumble under my skirt—the graze of his knuckles, the slickness of his fingers stretching me open again.
The crinkle of a wrapper. The snap of rubber.
My eyes widened. I kept my gaze glued to the cards on the table, knowing the shock that was plastered all over my face right now.
This was not how I pictured popping my cherry for the first time.
And it was…thrilling.Scary, of course. Intimidating, absolutely. But it was deliciously scandalous and filthy, too, and I was ready for it.
With other people, this would be the time when I hit the brakes and backed out.
With Dean, I wanted to step on the gas and plow full steam ahead.
He curved his hand over my hip again, with his hot breath fanning the back of my neck. The blunt head of his cock nudged at my entrance.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
“Don’t get too excited, honeybee,” Dean murmured. “You’re just keeping me warm until I can fuck you properly.”
The breath punched out of my lungs in a rush. I flipped through the cards, over and over. Blind to the faces, numbers, suits, colors. None of it mattered when I felt that first inch of Dean’s cock push inside me.
I gasped. The cards slipped from my fingers, splaying across the table. A deafening explosion on the television caught everyone’s attention, so no one even glanced our way.
He wasso thick.And surprisingly hotter than I expected.
I’d experimented with toys on my own for years. I knew what I liked and how my body responded. I thought my rabbit vibrator with the dual clit and G-spot stimulation was my nirvana, but this…this was a thousand times better. Because it wasDeanand his incredibly girthy cock. Slowly sinking deeper.
I gave up on the cards and just tried to breathe, to focus. To not moan like a damn whore in church.
At first, it was a silky glide where I felt Dean’s length grazing every inch of my walls.
But then it was too much. Too thick. Too big. And he wasn’t even fully inside me yet.
