“See, I saw your wallet last night. That tattoo just about tapped you out. But the offer I made you still stands. For now.” She leaned back and parted her legs, revealing the tiny scrap of panties she wore under her miniskirt.
Pink lace. Christ. “Why would you be willing to let me off that easily?”
“Who said anything about letting you off? You’ll be getting me off.” She laughed and tugged on his hair. “You have a reputation for fast fingers. Let’s see how fast and we’ll talk about how much you still owe me when you’re finished.”
When he didn’t respond, she leaned closer and licked the side of his throat. He shuddered before he could check the urge. Hell, his dick should be soft right now, not hard enough to hold up her prissy glass coffee table. Cocaine dick could be a problem for some, though luckily—or unluckily, considering his lack of a sex life—his usual side effect was inhuman staying power.
A fuzzy memory from the night before flashed through his mind. Jeremiah, the tattoo dude, had slipped him a baggie of male enhancement drugs along with a stash of supposedly primo weed. Those had been bonus gifts to go along with the reduced rate tattoo. Signs of true friendship right there. Gray hadn’t taken the pills or the weed last night but he’d held on to them. Never know. He might fuck again someday and need the pills to combat the coke effects. Or he might finally run out of Cricket’s good graces and be forced to become a stoner.
“You want me. I know you do.” She reached down to stroke his cock through his jeans and he couldn’t hold back the groan. Damn, it had been so long since he’d had hands on him that weren’t his own. It had even been a while since he’d touched himself. “And I definitely want you. You should’ve seen yourself last night. So hard and pulsing just from doing the line that I could see it in your jeans. Jere turned on that porno and started the tat gun and I swear, you were ready to go right there.”
God, it was all coming back to him now. Moans from the TV, Jere laughing as he told stories about rubbing coke on his girlfriend’s pussy to get them both off faster. Gray laughing too, because when he was high everything was so fucking funny.
Now it wasn’t. Nothing was funny about what she was doing to his dick through the denim, squeezing the head of his shaft, tracing the edge of the tip with one of her wicked nails. His balls felt like knots. He had to come. It had been too long.
“Come on, handsome. We can make each other feel so good.” She nipped the tendon in his throat and his length jerked in her hold. “Besides, you know your little drummer girl’s getting some of her own right now. You don’t need that stupid bitch.”
He shoved her back and stumbled to his feet. In a minute he’d have to adjust himself but right now touching his cock wouldn’t be smart. “I gotta go.”
“Go how?” She rested her arms on the back of the sofa and spread her legs wider, offering him a glimpse of the wet spot on her panties. Jesus. “You came here with me, and I’m not taking you anywhere.”
“Fine. I’ll call a cab.” One way or another, he was getting out of there. She wasn’t allowed to talk about Jazz that way. No one was.
She let out a tinkling laugh as he lurched toward the door. “Do you even know where you are?”
“I have my phone.” He patted his pockets and glanced around wildly. “Where the fuck is my phone, Cricket?”
She waved it between two fingers before dropping it between her parted thighs. “Come and get it, handsome.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Then
“Everyone, let’s hold hands and give thanks for this wonderful night we can spend here together.”
Jazz snuck a glance at Gray under her lashes as she tentatively gripped the hand he held out. He grinned at her and laced their fingers together while the family said grace.
On her other side sat Brent, Gray’s older brother. He gripped her other hand without any of the playfulness, his lips quirked in an expression closer to a sneer than a smile.
She had no reason to dislike the guy. She even kind of owed him for being nice enough to give up his room for her to use. But something about the way he stared at her for a little too long skeeved her out. Especially when Gray was around. He seemed to enjoy antagonizing his brother by teasing her with his lewd jokes. He didn’t mean anything by it, she was sure. Gray just tended to get a tad overprotective.
A few moments later, they moved on to the Thanksgiving meal itself. As soon as she cut into the thick slab of turkey Mrs. Duffy had given her—technically, Conchita, the housekeeper, had given it to her—she decided she couldn’t hold back her gratitude any longer. “May I say something?” Jazz asked.