Freckles: With his eyes.
Lettie: Truth.
Utter deflation. I don’t want a silent yearning. I want an unforgiving cyclone that sweeps me up with a stormy passion and refuses to let me go. Not one who has to muster the strength to be near me.
Me: Well, that’s not enough.
Lettie: He came all the way to get you in the middle of the night.
Me: And yet he’s still worlds away.
Freckles: Maybe so, but he searched tirelessly for you and chased you. Sometimes, the truth is in the pursuit.
Freckles: He might be reluctant to cross a line. That’s who he is. But when you summoned him, he dropped everything.
Lettie: Go with it. That’s a checkmate strategy right there. Both of us had instances where our guys had to work for it. Make yours do the same.
And just like that, my forty minutes of wallowing are up, and a newfound purpose courses through my veins. Ty’s nightmares are the least of his worries.
Me: Thanks, girls. What do I have to lose?
TY
Slender fingers are wrapped around my cock. I’m awake, an air bubble trapped in my lungs, heart pounding, mind racing. Balls tightening with an imploring zing.
This is a far better scenario than waking up from the nightmares that torment me, but also a far more precarious one. I slept on the couch in her room to avoid this. I’m supposed to keep my dick in my pants.
Fuck me.
That’s a much harder order once it’s already out. Which is why I’m lying here, silently trying to convince myself that this isn’t right. Even though it feels so goddamn phenomenal.
“I know you’re awake,” she warbles. It’s the same sultry voice she belts out songs with. The sexy rasp that could be my undoing.
My eyes spring open, and a shadowed vision of the most stunning creature in existence comes into focus—aptly aglow by the moonbeams trickling inside. She’s straddling my thighs, in only a bra and panties. I’ve seen her in a bathing suit, but this reads entirelydifferent. Especially since after she removed her top last night, her tits and divine nipples are imprinted on my memory for all time. As is her flavor. Jesus, she tasted heavenly. So fucking sweet. It took every ounce of self-control I could muster to maintain a reasonable distance from her yesterday.
But now …
Her hair is down and wild, and her chest is heaving. She looks hungry. Without the lights on, I can’t tell for sure, but I’d be willing to bet her skin is flushed a pretty pink.
“I’ll stop if you want me to,” she continues, a bit more tentatively now. “I was …needyagain, and I couldn’t bear to wake you up to assist me without reciprocating for last night. But—”
“Rena, we …” I scrub my hands over my face. I’ve got nothing.Stopis not a word my tongue is willing to form. And yet I’m an asshole for not saying it.
Then again, I could lock us up, feast on her cunt, watch her come over and over with her safe in my arms, and die a happy asshole.
Her tiny hand works up and down the shaft, thumb spreading the leaking precum as she delicately kneads my balls with her other hand. She’s a confounding mix of innocence and erotic skill. My dick hardens in the warmth of her zealous friction, ardent anticipation building at the base of my spine. I’m completely at her mercy.
“I know we’ve got a lot to figure out. But this is Vegas. So, like last night, what happens here, stays here.” She latches her gaze to mine. “Unless you tell me you don’t want this, I’m going to suck you off because I need to taste you, to feel this piercing against my throat.”
That brings a smile to my face. It shouldn’t. But I have often wondered if she’d like that I have a reverse Prince Albert piercing there—a platinum half-moon barbell. It was a secret act of reverence for the girl who can’t be mine.
“You like that, baby girl?”
“So much.” She bites her lip and nods on a puffed breath. “I’mofficially a groupie, sailor. I could tell you were big …” As she trails off with a swallow, her hands never cease their decadent massage. “Last night, I felt how much of you there was, which was already impressive. But a piercing elevates you to a whole new level.”
There’s no denying the heat and thrill swarming my chest, both from hearing her admiration and seeing her clearly aroused from touching me. The berating argument against this is losing steam with every delicious flick of her wrist.
I graze my fingers over her angelic face, engulfed in the fog of whatever spell she’s placed on me because I know this is a bad idea, but I can’t for the life of me recall why.
