“That’s pretty much what he said to me.” Again he drops his forehead to mine. “God I’m such an idiot.”
“But you’re my idiot.” I bite my bottom lip to hold back a smile.
“Really feeling the love, Sweet Potato,” he grumbles.
“Well you should, because I do.” He pulls back suddenly at my words. “I love you, Jase Donnelly.”
His eyes flare then his mouth crashes to mine, and I’m lost—in the press of his lips, the feel of his tongue stroking mine, that familiar cold metal whirling inside my mouth.
Teeth nip.
There’s sucking.
Groaning. Moaning. Sighs.
Hands move, his and mine. My face is cupped, his hair is pulled.
On and on we kiss. If we were in a car and not a virtual closet, the windows would be steamed to all hell.
The boy shorts I have on under my dress are completely destroyed; I’m so wet it’s like they’re nonexistent.
“Fuck.” He curses against my lips, not fully breaking the kiss. “I’ve missed this.”
I yank on his hair harder, grinding against the erection pressing into my belly. “Same.”
Kiss. Kiss.
Stroke. Stroke.
His tongue retreats, and I capture his ring in my teeth and suck. With a pained groan, I’m moved until I feel the edge of the vanity table digging into my ass.
I’m spun, my back pulled against his solid front. I’m pushed, bent slightly over the table, forcing me to brace myself on my hands to avoid getting a face full of reflective glass.
It’s his turn to grind into me, the hard length of his cock riding over the curve of ass.
The change of position is swift, but his actions are lazy.
In the mirror I watch him bend to nuzzle my neck before he drives me mad by dragging his piercing down the length of it.
His hands snake up my arms, starting at my wrists and swirling along my forearms, over my straightened elbows, up the ticklish skin of my triceps. Slipping underneath the spaghetti straps of my gown, he gives them a flick and they fall down. The material is weighted by sequins and beads, automatically sliding to my waist.
“What the hell is going on here?” He cups a breast in each hand, my head tipping back to his chest when he thumbs over where my straining nipples are hidden.
“Boob tape.”
His reflection gawks at me like I’m a calculus problem, only instead of solving for x, he’s trying to work out why I have no nipples.
“It adds a layer of support for the girls underneath costumes and help prevent them from giving me a black eye.”
He barks out a laugh. “Fuck, baby, I’ve missed you.”
Spinning in his arms, I loop my own around his neck, tugging him down for another intoxicating kiss. “I missed you too.” Another kiss. “So much.”
In a blink, my ass is on the vanity, the thigh-high slit of my gown allowing for my knees to fall open to accommodate his width. Hands cup the backs of my thighs, and my legs wrap around his waist, my ankles hooking at his back, the points of my stilettos digging into that delicious bubble butt of his, urging him closer.
Higher and higher his hands travel, the material of my dress converging at my waist like it’s a cape tied around my middle. Simultaneous groans echo in the room when I roll my hips against the hockey stick straining against his zipper.
“Jase.” I’m already reaching for his belt, pulling the leather free.
“Mels.”
I’ll have bruises on my ass from his grip, but who cares about a few battle wounds when the spoils are Jase inside me?
Metal clangs, belt hanging free. My thumb slips under the metal tab securing his pants, the button popping free followed by the hiss of a zipper.
I reach inside, teeth biting into my shoulder as I palm his hot length.
“Mels,” he warns when I drag my thumbnail over the mushroom cap head leaking precum. “Keep doing that and this will be over before it starts.”
“What happened to that stamina you used to boast about?”
“It’s been over two months since I’ve been inside you. Months, baby.”
He pinches my ass when I snicker. How can I help it when he makes it sound more like two decades? Even when he’s not trying to, he emanates exaggeration.
“Condom,” he growls, fumbling inside his jacket.
I slap his hands away, retrieving the thin leather wallet and liberating the foil packet from it. He’s sheathed, hooking my underwear to the side and moving into me quicker than the slap shot that won him hardest shot at the skills comp.
Though we exchanged the ultimate words of love earlier, there is nothing romantic about our coupling. This is raw, quick, down and dirty fucking at its finest. The slow, sweet love will have to happen when we have time and not when people could come knocking at any moment.
His hips pump and mine roll in a back-and-forth dance to orgasm. I cry his name only seconds before he roars mine.
“I love you.” I clutch him to me.
“I love you too, baby.”
God the way those words make me feel has me beaming brighter than any Broadway marquee.
“Though I gotta say, I feel like I cheated on you with the blonde wig and all.” He tugs on one of the curls hanging in my face. I wince, the glue securing it to my scalp pulling my skin, and he curses. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Transforming back into myself is sometimes a painful process.”
He slips out, tying off the condom and readjusting his clothes before helping me with mine. His hands linger on my shoulders, toying with the straps he’s just fixed, and we stare at each other dopily.
I still have so many questions about his beef with Nate.
Two quick knocks sound on the door, and it opens before we can respond.
“Surprise.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
The sight of Nate fucking Bishop is like a bucket of cold water to the face.
Really?
Fucking really? Homeboy had to show up now?
Can’t a guy get five minutes to bask in the afterglow of a brain-melting orgasm before being faced with the bane of his existence? Hell, my dick is barely dry after fucking his sister. Yes I’m mentally fist-pumping over that.
I’ve come to terms—sorta—with being the bigger man and leading the charge in us kissing and making up. Well, not literally. The only Bishop I’ll be kissing is the one with her legs currently wrapped around me.
To think, at one point I thought he deserved a hug from me—not fucking likely.
“Teddy!”
It soothes my ruffled feathers that Melody legitimately calls him this and it wasn’t a way for her to hide his true identity from me.
“Care Bear.” The disapproval in his tone has my teeth snapping together. I feel like I should offer him some prune juice, because the scowl he’s sporting makes him look constipated.
“You came.” Mels taps me to move so she can get down. It’s the last thing I want to do, especially with Judgey McJudgerson looking at us like we just made a human sacrifice. The only thing murdered in this room was Melody’s pussy when I took us to Poundtown. My lips quirk imagining the reaction I would get if I offered up that tidbit.
“Of course I did.” Nate pulls Mels into a hug, throwing so much shade in my direction I need a full snowsuit to survive it. “Unless I have a game, you know I always come to opening night.”