The Purest Hook (Second Circle Tattoos #3)(45)

“I . . . erm.”

“Play with me, Pix. Please. Don’t you? I am f*cking hard from the want of you, and if you’re ready, I want you to get me off. I want you to touch yourself. I want this conversation to get you as turned on right now as I am. Play with me, Snowflake. I’m all yours.”

All yours. The words had all but spilled out.

“On the plane home, I wondered what it would have been like to unzip your jeans,” she said.

Fuck. She was going to play. And for all the dark he craved, her sweetness turned him on even more.

“Did you think about how I’d look, when I was hard? What you would do with me?”

Pixie took a deep breath. “I’d take you in my hand and stroke you. Get the feel of you.”

“Do you want me to touch myself now for you?”

“Would you?”

“You have no idea the things I would do for you. Talk to me, Snowflake.”

“I’d suck on you, I think. Put you in my mouth.”

Dred shivered. It wasn’t the most erotic line he’d ever heard, but from his virgin, it was the sexiest f*cking thing. Ever.

“What would I taste like?”

“Hmm . . . salty, maybe. I’d lick the very tip for a taste.” Pixie turned and buried her head in the pillow then looked back. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

“I can imagine the inside of your mouth. It’s tight and wet. Warm. You’re on your knees in front of me. We’re at a cabin by the lake. Outside. And those perfect lips of yours are sucking me off.”

Perhaps it was overwhelming need, but Pixie placed her hand between her legs. When she realized what she’d done, she removed it quickly.

“No. Put it back. Do what feels natural, Pix. Wanna see what feels natural for me?”

“No.” There was too much certainty in her words to push her, even though he knew he could. He kept his phone focused on his face.

Tentatively, she put her hand back between her legs, and rocked against the side of her palm. A steady rocking to find the edge. The edge he was about to fall over. He moved his hand faster along his cock, searching for the telltale tightening.

“I want you to sit on my face and show me how you get off. And when you are good, and wet, and still riding your first orgasm, I want you to move those delicious hips of yours until you are sitting over my cock. Then you can lower yourself on to me, fast or slow . . . because I’m taking you at least twice . . . so it really doesn’t matter to me which we do first.”

Pixie’s mouth opened and she gasped for breath. Her eyes tightened, her body spasmed. It was the most perfect orgasm he’d ever seen. At the sight of it, he let go and joined her.





Chapter Ten


I had phone sex and liked it.

Pixie grinned to herself as she locked her bike up against the fence behind Second Circle. She’d been scared when Dred had offered to show her how he was touching himself. Having been forced to sit through hours of pornographic films, the thought of watching Dred on video had caused her to want to yell “Stop!” But he’d listened to her, and stopped the movement of the phone toward . . . She shivered at the thought. Since he’d told her to think about his . . . well . . . she couldn’t stop herself.

It was thirty minutes before opening, but loud music was already playing. Metal really wasn’t her thing, but the guys loved it. She stepped into the studio where Cujo was singing along to whatever was playing.

“Figured I’d put lover-boy on for you,” he shouted when he saw her.

Pixie turned the dial, reducing the volume. Ask her who was the better Evita, Madonna or Elaine Paige, and she’d be able to write an essay on the subject. When it came to metal, she had no clue what constituted good, but this sounded better than most of the stuff they played.

Cujo’s phone stood in the docking station, Dred’s face staring back at her from the album cover. It was a weird sensation.

“When are you guys seeing each other next?” Cujo asked.

Not soon enough. They’d made tentative plans on the phone the previous day. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of their call. “Dred’s in Barcelona. Flying back to Toronto today. It’ll be at least another couple of weeks. He has a show in Brazil coming up, too.”

Cujo walked to the cupboard and pulled the door open. Usually it stuck and needed a good yank, but for some reason today it didn’t. Inks and supplies flew out of the cupboard hitting the floor. A few popped open, sending random lines of ink across the floor.

“Shit,” Cujo called out, looking down at the yellow ink splattered across his jeans.

Pixie let out a giggle, and he eyed her dangerously. “Need some help there? You go get cleaned up, I’ll deal with the cupboard and floor.”

“Thanks, Pix.”

She started by gathering up the bottles that were unaffected, and after stepping carefully through the mess, she put them back on the shelves. After dealing with everything that was salvageable, she grabbed a pair of gloves and wiped up as much of the ink as she could. The floor would need a good wash. Once the worst of the ink was wiped up, she gathered the paper towels she’d used and walked them straight outside to the garbage. She dropped them into the Dumpster and removed the latex gloves, throwing them into it too before she closed the lid.