“Yeah, my mom was indecisive.” She grinned with a shrug. “I like your ink,” she said, nodding toward my tattoos. My arms were covered, as were my neck, chest, and back. Still had room for a couple more though. “Though the knuckles are a little much, dontcha think?”
“Fuck no.” I grinned. “I like people to know exactly what they’re getting with me.”
“I’m not even getting into that discussion,” she laughed again. “I need to get back.” She nodded toward her table. “But whoever did your tats is good.” She started to turn away and I felt my muscles tighten, like my arms wanted to reach out and grab her, to keep her there with me.
“Did most of them myself,” I replied quickly.
I watched the almost imperceptible shift in her stance, knowing I’d gotten her attention finally. I nodded toward her arms. “What about those? Where’d you get those?”
She looked away from me, tucking one of her blond curls behind her ear. “INKslingers, mostly, but some are from…” She stopped talking, a smile rising on her face. “Around.”
“They’re good,” I replied, leaving her sentence hanging between us. “I could do better though. I mean, some of them are a little juvenile, if I’m being honest.”
Her eyes hardened, and I knew I’d hit my mark. I almost laughed out loud as she tried to keep her cool composure. If anything, she looked even hotter when she was angry. Would have given anything to run my hands along up and down her hips right then, feeling her heated skin under my touch.
“Well, in the vein of being honest, I should probably tell you that I’m not interested.” She picked up the pitcher of beer and I wondered how the fuck her little hands could grip it so well. Wondered if she could grip other things as tightly too. My dick was wondering the same thing. She turned and started to walk away. “Thanks for the drinks, Mister Glory and Anger.”
I threw some cash on the bar and watched her strut away. Her ass sashayed across the room, every set of male eyes on it as she passed by them. Wanted to kill every one of those fuckers just for looking at her. Gouge their eyes out so they couldn’t look at her ever again.
“Yeah, keep looking, fuckers,” I muttered angrily under my breath.
Nancy reached her table and put the beer down. The guy she was with was watching me, completely unperturbed by the fact that I could snap him like a twig if I wanted to. Cocky little fucker didn’t know who the fuck he was looking at, but I was more than happy to show him if need be. I raised my glass to him and he sneered and turned away, his arm snaking around Nancy’s waist.
I was going to rip his dick off and feed it to him if he didn’t take his hands off her. I downed half my beer, watching him and thinking of ways I was going to hurt him.
Thankfully, at least for him, Nancy shrugged out from under his grip, pretty much like I’d seen her do all night long. Whoever he was to her, he definitely wasn’t her boyfriend and never would be. Her girlfriend leaned in and placed a kiss on her lips and Nancy pulled her in close, their bodies pressed against one another’s hard enough to make every man pause and watch them like this was a free peep show.
Nancy’s eyes were closed, but as I raised my beer to my lips, my heated gaze still on her, she opened them and looked at me. Our gazes connected and my nostrils flared as she reached down and grabbed the other woman’s ass, squeezing it firmly.
I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to show me that she wasn’t interested, or if that was merely showing me what I was missing out on. Either way, it didn’t do either of those things. It only made me more determined to have her.
I lifted my beer, a silent cheers to her. “Game on,” I muttered. “Game fucking on.”
~ 4 ~
“Yes, yes, yes!” Ann-Marie was bouncing around on top of me, tits dancing, hips grinding, and her long red nails were scraping lines down my chest like she was trying to tear me wide open. “Fuck me, yes!”
I grabbed her hips and slammed myself into her harder, trying to keep my mind on the job at hand. But I couldn’t.
All I could think about washer.
Nancy motherfucking California.
I felt Ann-Marie tighten around me, her pussy clamping down as she leaned forward, her hips thrusting back and forth as she ground herself into heaven.
“Oh my God, Sketch!” she screamed out loudly, and I was surprised that a car alarm didn’t go off outside.
Yeah, she was a fucking screamer.
A loud fucking screamer.
Jesus Christ, she was still screaming even as she flopped forward on me, her chest heaving. Needed to shut her up real quick or I was never going to come. I gripped her hips and lifted her off me and onto the bed. I stood up, dragging the condom off my still rock-hard dick.
“Knees,” I ordered, and she kneeled down and opened her mouth for me. I held the base of my cock and guided it into her waiting mouth, and praise baby Jesus, she finally shut the fuck up.
I gripped the back of her head and moved my hips back and forth slowly at first, letting her mouth adjust to my size. When her eyes stopped watering and her hands reached for my balls I started moving quicker, her throat opening up for me so I could get myself almost all the way in. Damn, couldn’t lie: Ann-Marie was good at sucking dick.
I closed my eyes and let my hips do the talking as her fingers squeezed on my balls and my dick slipped down her throat, making her gag just enough to let her know who was in charge. I thought I was lost in the moment, my actions speaking for me, but my mind had other ideas and I felt myself thinking about Nancy and her tiny body.
