Trapped (Caged #2)(20)

I still hadn’t taken her on a real date.

There just wasn’t any money for it. Even with the extra cash Tria was bringing in, she didn’t have enough hours at the library to make much difference. Yolanda was trying to get me more fights, but outside of the local bars, I was an unknown, and no one was really interested in picking me up other than for a one night gig. Overall, it meant I was doing a little bit of letting the phone bill slide a few extra days just to get the water bill paid and shit like that.

Still, the money issues didn’t bother me all that much. It was tight, but when I came home from working or working out and had Tria there, it was all worth it. Every time I laced up my running shoes with the new laces, I knew I would come back home to find her waiting for me, usually with a big glass of cold water and a hot kiss.

Krazy Katie had become a much larger presence in our lives. Part of me wanted to be ticked off that Tria was spending so much time with her, but in all the years I had lived there, I had never seen Krazy Katie do anything other than hang out on the balcony. At least now she spent more time in a warm apartment.

Besides, it made Tria happy. I hadn’t thought about it, but it wasn’t like she had any friends around here other than me, and she had to get tired of my bullshit sometimes. Having another chick around—even a crazy one—had to be better than nothing. Tria and Yolanda had tried to be civil toward each other, but I could tell it made them both kind of uncomfortable though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it had something to do with how I made money. Tria still managed to find reasons not to ever come and watch me fight. I didn’t press, but I had to admit it did bother me a little.

“Are you hurt?” Tria asked the second I walked in the door from work.

“Not a scratch,” I replied with a half smile. “The guy was just barely in my weight class and probably won’t be fighting again for a while.”

Tria scowled at the remark and then came over to check me out to make sure I wasn’t bullshitting her. I held out my arms, and she gave me a once over and then a nod.

“Glad you’re okay,” she said. “I hate it when I can’t kiss you.”

She punctuated the remark with her lips against mine, something she hadn’t been able to do the previous week when I returned with a busted lip. I wrapped my arms around her and lifted her up. Taking a few steps forward, I pinned her against the wall for a minute—it always made her giggle—and then carried her over to the couch.

She pressed against my chest to make me back off, then looked at me out of one eye. She wrinkled her nose.

“You didn’t shower at Feet First, did you?”

“Heh,” I responded. “Nah, it was a slow night, and I wanted to get back here. I’ll get cleaned up.”

I washed quickly. When I was done, I peeked around the door to make sure Tria was still focused on the TV before running naked to the bedroom to grab some clothes. I couldn’t find anything comfortable in the drawers, was totally out of boxers, and all my sweats were in the bottom of the pile, so I yanked on a pair of jeans before heading back out.

Tria looked up as I came around the corner and gave me one of those smiles that seemed to make my brain turn to mush. Either that or the guy I had beaten earlier landed one good punch to the head. I scooted up next to her and put my arm around her shoulders, figuring we’d watch the rest of whatever movie she had on, but Tria had other ideas.

She turned to me almost immediately, got up on her knees, and wrapped her fingers in my hair before kissing me. I found her hips with my hands, and I alternated my focus between the taste of her tongue and resisting the urge to pull her down against my cock.

She moved her hands down to my shoulders and then further down my arms before moving up again. We moved together with open mouths, just barely touching with lips and tongues. She moved her mouth to my jaw, nibbling playfully at the scruff there as she stroked my chest.

I felt my body tighten at her touch, and my skin tingled as her fingers moved over my chest and down to my abs. She took one finger and slid it over the ridge of each muscle. I caught her under her chin with my fingers and brought her mouth back to mine.

Open mouthed, I moved from her lips, up the line of her jaw, to her ear, and back again. With my free hand, I crept from her hip up her side, and my thumb stroked the skin of her stomach. I felt her hand over mine.

I started to pull away, assuming her intent was to tell me to stop, but her grip on my fingers tightened. Opening my eyes, I looked down at her and watched her tongue dart out over her lips before she slowly pushed my hand upwards.

“You sure?” I breathed, hating myself for even asking the question instead of jumping on the opportunity. In response, Tria rose up just enough to pull her shirt up over her head.

My cock tried to jump right through the material of my jeans to tit f*ck her right there in her bra.

I had to physically restrain myself from the action as she settled back above me on her knees. The bra itself wasn’t unfamiliar—I’d seen all of her clothes in the drawers before—but having the lacy white material wrapped around her smooth breasts laid out before me was completely different.

I sat up and moved her with me until she was flat on her back on the couch, and I was hovering over her. I moistened my lips as I gazed down at the pale flesh before me with only a slight curve visible at the top of the lacy front.

As slowly as I could endure, I traced her skin from the edge of the thin strap around her shoulder and down to the mound of flesh against the lace edge. Barely touching her, I outlined from one edge over the curve, down into the slight dip, and back over again. My fingertip completed the trek back up to her other shoulder, and then began to make its way down again.