She leans on the bar, watching as I take my first shot, pocketing a yellow. Then I clean up. I pocket every ball without issue, leaving her three reds and the black on the table.
I look up, giving her a grin, “Not so cocky now, Olivia?”
Her eyes narrow, “You have to get the black,” she shrugs, “And that shot isn’t easy.”
Not easy but doable.
She pushes off the bar and strolls casually to the head of the table. The black is sitting behind her three reds, the white almost on the cushion in front of me. She stands directly in front of me, the table between us.
The easiest pocket would be corner left, so that’s how I line it up.
I pull the cue back at the same time Olivia decides to stretch. The shirt rises, lifting up and over her pussy and I fuck the shot up. The white strikesher red, a foul which gives her two shots.
Fuck.
She drops her arms and attempts to hide her smile but fails.
She pockets her last three balls and eyes the black currently sitting dead flush against the cushion and between two pockets.
I have no doubt she’ll be able to get it in.
She lines up and strikes and I watch, focused on the ball as it bounces off the cushion and heads for the pocket only for it to bounce off the corner.
“Shit!” She hisses.
I walk around the table slowly, stalking her until I can brush my fingers up her thigh, reveling in the way her skin pebbles in reaction to my touch.
“Twenty-four hours,” I muse, “And at least half of that will be spent with you naked with my cock buried inside of you.”
Her breath stutters as I line up, strike the black and sink it, winning me the game.
“I’ll be cashing in for those twenty-four hours soon, Olivia,” I turn to her, pressing my chest to hers as my fingers go to the hem of my shirt.
Her lashes flutter as I let my fingers crawl up her thigh, over her hip until I can curl my hand around her waist.
“Malakai,” Her voice is a whisper against my lips as I lean in, tasting her. I don’t kiss her enough, I think, as I lay my mouth on hers a lot firmer, my tongue testingat the seam of her lips.
She opens for me, granting me access so my tongue plunges into her mouth, stealing her breath and her whimpers. I press her back against the bar before I lift. Her legs come around my waist as her fingers grip on my hair. For a few more blissful seconds she kisses me with as much demand as me but then her fingers curl and she tugs my head back, forcing me away from her mouth.
“Olivia,” I growl.
Kiss swollen lips press to the corner of my mouth, “I have to get ready. And I still need to pick up my dress.”
Lifting a little higher, I plant her ass on the bar and when she tries to unhook her legs, I tug them back. “You stay.” I order before I pull out my cell. “Dennis.” He answers immediately. “I need you to collect Olivia’s dress.”
“Where?” Is his response.
I look to Olivia for the details and when she gives them, I pass them over to Dennis.
“Now you don’t need to pick up the dress,” I tell her, triumphant that I get to keep her for a little longer.
“I thought you said Dennis was off today,” She challenges, hands coming back to me.
“I lied,” I whisper, “I just wanted to keep you close.”
She searches my eyes, for what, I’m not sure but then her face softens, “Not sure you could be any closer.”
A wicked grin pulls on my mouth, “Wanna bet?”
