Page 160 of Just Wait

“You gonna come for me, Lulu?” I yank free of her mouth, and my sticky length slaps against my lower stomach as her eyes fall shut.

Her face contorts, and she gets loud, her electric scent growing heavy in the air.

“Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to be able to suck on your clit right now,” I tell her, yanking her head back. She seems to like the pain, but I also bring my other hand to tease her cheek. “God, Lumen, I don’t think you’re ready for how thoroughly I’m going to fuck you when I get the chance.”

Her eyes pop open.

They’re hazy and hooded as she smiles, taking my damn breath away.

“I can’t wait.”

Yeah, me too.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Lumen

The second Malcolm guides me into our date, I know I’m in real trouble. It’s a vintage music shop with instruments lining the walls and vinyls and CDs in rows along the middle.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, taking in the pictures of musicians on the walls. “Malcolm, this place is a gem.”

His long brown hair falls over his face as his lips tip up at the edges. He looks almost shy but also proud. “Thank fuck. The internet didn’t steer me wrong.”

I grab his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Can we browse?”

“Hell yes.” He chuckles and lets me keep hold of his right hand as he spins behind me, planting his huge palm on my left hip. “From what I’ve heard, we can test out any of the instruments that are for sale.”

My heart thunders.

God, he really is great boyfriend material.

He was all smiles as he woke me up just before ten while I was busy trying to pretend like the alarm didn’t exist.

We cuddled and watched a movie after I gave him a blow job last night, but it was hard to fall asleep with the music playing in the living room.

Mal finally went out and told everyone to shut the hell up. Though it helped, I’m not sure what time we fell asleep.

I wasn’t well-rested enough to turn down the artificial energy when he offered as we got ready, but I’m a little worried that I’m counting on it too much to get me moving.

It’s sad that I finally understand why so many musicians end up addicted to one thing or another. Their schedule is brutal, and if they want to do anything that isn’t tour related, they have to cut into the few precious hours that they get to sleep to do it.

Malcolm shoves me forward with his hand on my hip. “You think they’ve got anything from Liminal in the racks?”

“They better.” I chuckle, grinning at him over my shoulder. “We’ll make it a treasure hunt to find out.”

The shop owner doesn’t take long to figure out who Malcolm is. We brought security, but unlike when I was with Kincaid, they stay outside the entire time.

I pull out my phone, snapping pictures of the guitars on the wall. They have some that I haven’t seen in person, but I keep circling back to the blueberry burst Gibson. I think that’s an ES-339. All the guitars are secondhand, and I think that model is only sold directly through Gibson when they’re new.

It’s so gorgeous.

“You eye that guitar any harder, and it’s going to drop its panties and bend over for you,” Malcolm says, sliding up behind me. “It’s damn pretty.”

“God, it really is,” I agree, flipping around the camera to take a selfie of me and Mal.

He grins, leaning around my back and kissing my cheek. It’s a great picture, but he doesn’t stop there. He rests his chin on my shoulder and says, “Take another, baby doll.”

I do, and he turns just in time.