Beneath This Ink (Beneath #2)(56)

Apparently the enthusiastic, dick-sucking portion of the entertainment was not to be. But when the hot slickness of her * grazed my shaft, I didn’t f*cking care.

Using my cock and the piercing, she worked herself to the edge of orgasm. My hands, unable to stay still at the sight of this woman using me as her personal sex toy, reached up to cup her tits and tug her nipples.

“You gonna come on my cock, baby?”

A moan and a whimper were the only responses I got.

“You look so f*cking beautiful like this, taking what you need.”

“Need more.” Her words carried an edge of desperation.

“What, baby?”

“Please…”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me.”

I released her tits and slid my hands down her sides until I reached her hips. Picking her up, I bit out, “Put me inside you if that’s what you want.”

One hand shifted down my torso, where she’d been keeping herself balanced, and grasped my slick cock. Angling it upward, Vanessa fit the head against her entrance.

It took everything I had not to slam her body down and impale her with my dick.

Through gritted teeth I asked, “How do you want it? Hard or easy?”

Her hips shifted, as though trying to take me inside her, but my hold kept her from getting what she wanted.

“Please…”

“Hard or easy, princess.”

Her eyes flashed on mine. “There’s nothing easy about you, Con. I don’t want easy.”

That was all I needed. I released my grip and let her sink onto my cock.

“Oh my God.” Her harsh exhale spurred me on. I clutched her hips and lifted her again before bringing her down and bucking my hips to stimulate her clit with my pubic bone. Her upright posture crumpled against the pleasure, and Vanessa fell forward, catching herself on my shoulders. I released one hip and dragged my hand up her back to pin her to me, chest to chest.

I held her there for a beat before resuming my grip on her hips and the counter-thrusting that would take us both to the edge.

“I’m going to—”

“No you aren’t. You’re gonna goddamn wait for me, baby.”

A moan of frustration and the flutter of her inner muscles clued me in to the fact that whether I wanted her to wait or not, this wasn’t lasting much longer.

“Please—”

“Hold on.” I increased my pace and the ferocity of my strokes. Vanessa pushed up, riding me like a champ.

The telltale bolts of lightning shot down my spine. “Now, baby. Now.” It was probably arrogant to think she’d come on command, so I decided to make it a certainty. Grasping her hip, my thumb slid over to stroke and press down on her clit.

The scream that practically shattered my eardrums along with the clench of her * clued me in to the fact that she was rocketing toward orgasm. So I let go.





I woke up alone. Con had been gone a while—if the cold sheets were any indication. It took a few seconds before my synapses started firing, but as soon as they did, I bolted up in bed.

Shit.

It was Saturday, and I had a funeral to go to. I was just thanking God that it was for an old man and not a teenage boy. But either way, celebrating a life was on the agenda, and I didn’t have time to linger.

Spying my dress and underwear in a semi-folded pile on the chair, I reached for them and hastily dressed. Thank God jersey didn’t stay wrinkled for long. I found my shoes and slipped them on. Grabbing my purse, I slung it over my shoulder and tried not to let it bother me that Con had left without waking me. A brief flash of panic hit me as I wondered if his absence had something to do with Trey. I calmed myself with the rationalization that if he’d taken a turn for the worst, Con would have woken me.

Distracted, I made my way down the stairs to an empty Voodoo and out the door into the back alley. I checked the knob to make sure it locked behind me—shutting out the possibility that I could give in to my desire to head back up those stairs and crawl back into Con’s bed and wait for him.

But if he’d wanted me to stay, wouldn’t he have left some kind of note? I saw no sign of his bike when I climbed into my loaner, which was blessedly still parked in the alley.

I’d just twisted the key in the ignition when a loud rap on the window scared the ever-loving hell out of me.

Even though my glance out the window revealed a disheveled Con standing by my car, the sound was altogether too similar to the one made by the carjacker only a little over a day ago. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to calm my breathing.

I hadn’t gotten myself under control when my door was yanked open.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I held up a finger—the universal sign for give me a minute before I lose my mind.

Con was apparently not in the mood to give me a minute.

“You’re just f*cking leaving? Not a word. Just gone. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

What the hell?

“What are you talking about?” I asked, pressing a hand to my still-thundering heart.

“You. Running off.”

“I have to get to—”

“This should be good, because it can’t be work, given that it’s Saturday. That’s the excuse you used last time.”