Chapter 39
Ignacio
I smile into my pillow when Tinley comes into the room. I don’t even have to look up to know her movements are fueled by alcohol. She drops her shoes on the floor, her clothes coming off in a soft whisper of fabric, and my cock is already at half-mast by the time she climbs into bed.
The warmth of her naked body covers my equally naked back.
“You’re naked,” she says with a giggle as her lips press to a spot between my shoulder blades.
“Mmm. Do that again.”
She obliges, her tongue sneaking out to taste my skin.
I live for these moments, the times where she comes to me in the darkness. Most nights end with us tangled together, me inside of her, but each time is like the first time, anticipation filling my blood and making me want to rush to the part where I slide inside of her.
Tonight, is no different, but I hold off, begging my cock to stop aching long enough for me to see exactly what she has in mind.
Soft tits press to my back and she tries to wiggle a hand under my waist.
“What are you doing?”
She giggles, the scent of alcohol on her breath as she leans over my shoulder.
“I want to touch my cock.”
“Your cock?” I tease, lifting my hips enough so her hand can wrap around me.
One simple touch is all it takes to make me groan into the pillow under my head.
“Mine,” she whispers against my skin.
She squeals in delight when I flip her over.
When she settles back on me, legs straddling my hips, I’m delighted in the smile on her face.
Her hair is a mess, eyes lazy as she smiles down at me.
“Are you ready for me?” She bites her lip, hands working up and down my rock-hard dick.
“No.” She frowns, her hands stilling on me. “I don’t sleep with drunk chicks.”
“You won’t fuck me?” She leans up, lining my cock right against the heat of her core. “Okay.”
Instead of sinking down on me like I figured she would, she slides away.
“Tin, wait.”
We’re in this for the long haul. Sliding inside of her while she’s drunk wouldn’t be taking advantage of her, and I know she wouldn’t regret it in the morning. In contrast to what she said earlier, I wouldn’t try anything new, something she told me she wasn’t ready to try.
“What are you—fuuuckkk.”
Her lips wrap around my cock, and I’m gone.
Lost.
No longer here in this room.
Is that heaven over there to the right?
We’ve been officially together for a while, and although I get my mouth on her every chance I get, she hasn’t done this. I know it has to do with what I said long ago, just like I know her sucking me to the back of her throat right now means that she’s finally letting go of everything from the past. This is her telling me we’re real. She’s no longer afraid to move forward with me.
I take as much pleasure in that as I do her mouth working me over.
“Jesus, Tin.” I tangle my fingers in her hair, moving it out of the way so I can see her pink lips working over my length. “Fucking sloppy. God, I love it.”
Spit drips down my nuts, making them tighten against the tickle.
“If you want me to fuck you, you better stop. Oh, shit do that again.” She looks up, lips smiling as she traces her tongue from my balls to the tip before swallowing me down again.
“Mmm,” she moans around me, and shit I’m going to come.
“Do you want to swallow?” Her head bobs, giving me permission, and I don’t make her wait a second longer.
It takes ten minutes for my soul to reenter my body. Another five for my eyes to refocus.
And by the time I’m able to move, Tinley is snoring softly beside me.
It only takes three minutes for me to wake her up with my mouth.
We don’t get a wink of sleep the rest of the night.
***
“You look exhausted,” Flynn says as I step into the breakroom area of the office.
I grin at him, not regretting a single second of what happened last night when Tinley came home from Paddy’s.
“You don’t look much better.”
His grin is wide, telling me he probably had a night much like my own. Remington, Anna, Whitney, and even Pam all went out last night. Speaking of…
“I didn’t see Pam up front.”
“She called in hungover,” Deacon says as he walks toward me. “Said we better not mess anything up while she’s gone.”
Flynn and I chuckle, laughing harder when Wren comes in looking like he’s been on a four-day bender.
“Good night?” I ask, earning a middle finger.
“I’m fucking exhausted,” he mutters as he inches slowly toward the coffee pot.
“I think we all are,” Flynn says but that same smile is on his face. “Isn’t it awesome?”
“My balls hurt,” Wren mutters. “Why does alcohol turn women into fucking sex-crazed psychos?”
“I’m not complaining,” I tell him as I look over at Deacon. “Oh, sorry. I know Anna can’t drink, so—”
“If you think it takes alcohol to get my wife—you know what? Not your business.” He looks over at Wren. “Did you get that list together?”
“Really?” Wren complains, his hand gripping the handle to his coffee mug as if he’s going to snatch it out from under the single-serve machine the second the last drip lands inside. “I just fucking got here.”
“And I asked for it yesterday.”
“After hours,” Wren argues. “Just because you go home and keep working doesn’t mean the rest of us do.”
“The girls went out last night. What else did you have to do?”
“First, I had to referee a damn fight. I had to bring Puff back up here because Simon kept hissing at him,” Wren says counting things off on his fingers. “Then I had to get some work done.”
“But not the things I needed?”
Wren takes a deep breath, turning around to face the coffee pot once again.
“What he’s saying is he had to glue his nose to the computer screen to keep an eye on Whitney,” Flynn says. “But seriously, thanks, man. It put my mind at ease to know you were making sure they were safe.”
“Really?” Deacon says to Flynn. “Do you really think Remington doesn’t know you were parked outside of Paddy’s the entire night?”
Flynn narrows his eyes. “Does Anna know you were in the passenger seat?”
Deacon snaps his mouth closed before looking at me.
I hold my hands up. “I knew you guys had it under control. I was at the house with Alex.”
“What are we arguing about?” Quinten asks as he walks into the room, his huge hand swiping down his long, dark beard.
He’s the only one with pep this morning and I hate how much of a morning person he always is. I know this guy would still have just as much energy if he was like the rest of us and didn’t get a wink of sleep.
“Obsessive men,” I say, feeling like a rock star but wondering if Wren is going to speak up and explain that we texted a hundred times last night as he gave me updates on the girls.
“Wren was telling me that he didn’t get to the list I needed,” Deacon adds.