What did you put in my blunt?
My dick jerks at Bianca whipping her braids in a circle as she smacks her pussy.
Andrea
Strung out already?
You have no idea.
Heat reaches up my throat as her body rolls into a low squat.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Up.
Down.
Up.
My eyes dance over her round globes in fishnets, twerking to the beat. She spins to face me, her hand on the strings between her breasts holding up her corset.
Jingling bells replace lyrics about going numb.
What the fuck is State Farm?
Bianca’s cheeks turn pink. “YouTube commercial,” she giggles.
The bark of laughter that comes out of my mouth surprises me. I don’t laugh or smile, but I do both with ease around the woman two-stepping on stage during an ad about insurance.
I relight my blunt and blow smoke at the ceiling. My back slouches against firm leather as I widen my legs for the temptress who crawls down the rest of the stage.
Bianca is perfection.
Beautiful.
Confident.
Frustrating.
Incomparable.
A fucking problem.
I shudder at her hands splayed over my thighs. Her fingers burn my skin and inch closer to the bulge stealing her attention. She bites her lip and stares at me from under long lashes.
The small of her back arches, accentuating her ass. Bianca spins to offer her cheeks and the strip of leather covering her thick pussy lips to me. With her forearms planted on the carpet, she lifts into a headstand—fishnets and heels raised—to clap her ankles.
Between my high and thinking about Trouble nonstop since she found her way into my bedroom, my control unravels into primal need.
“Benny,” Bianca pants at my growl.
I’m on her, arms wrapped around her waist and the ass that’s been teasing me all night. I’ve never done cocaine, but I drag my nose from her back hole to her pussy on a long inhale.
“Benny?” My name is a tremble on her lips. Her words stall at the first swipe of my tongue down the leather landing strip shining under red lights.
