Twisted(45)

“Oh, I do.” She grabbed one between her teeth and used both hands to shovel the rest onto the floor. She unzipped her other boot and unearthed her cell phone, setting it on the nightstand, then toed off both boots and climbed up on the platform bed.

Something about her efficiency made him laugh in spite of the serious hard-on he was sporting. “Good thing I’ve been saving up.”

A shadow passed over her face, a brief cloud in the midst of all the sunshine. “Have you? Really?”

“Really. I haven’t been with anyone in months.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “It’s even been a while since I’ve been with myself.”

Instantly the sun sliced through the momentary darkness in her expression. She flashed him a dazzling smile. “Me either.” Invitingly, she spread her legs, revealing her swollen pink pussy. No hair to speak of, anywhere. “So. Where were we?”

“Christ almighty.” He didn’t smoke pot often enough to know what it normally did for sex, but with every passing second, his cock thickened more. He felt harder than the exposed beams overhead. Even walking to his bedroom door to lock it presented a frigging challenge, but he did it because he wouldn’t risk Nick interrupting them—again. “Warn a guy before you do that, would you?”

“No. Because I don’t want you to have control around me. I want you on the edge, like I am.”

“No worries there.”

He turned back and drank down the sight of her, all tumbling hair, hungry eyes and puffy lips. Without lowering his gaze, he shoved down his jeans and boxers. He stalked forward and leaned across the bed, banding his hand around her thigh to drag her closer. The simple movement made his head swim as if he’d downed a few six-packs. He had a light buzz going from the few pulls on the joint he’d managed before her appearance, but that wasn’t the cause of his dizziness. He could smell her now, sweeter than springtime, more alluring than the most seductive drug.

Smiling at him, she picked up the remote he’d tossed on the pillow earlier and aimed it at the small speakers on the dresser. “Ripcord” from their EP flowed out. He’d been trying to write earlier—on his own, since Nick had taken off hours ago and hadn’t returned—so he’d turned on Oblivion’s music in the hopes of luring out the muse. That hadn’t worked, so he’d turned to weed.

Now he would turn to Jazz.

He nipped her lower belly, causing her to drop the remote and lean up on her elbows. He learned her flesh from touch rather than sight, because he couldn’t bear to look away from her eyes. That lust-soaked blue dragged him on a path straight into the heart of her, her lashes fluttering while his tongue parted her swollen folds. The pink crystals on her hood piercing nearly made him beg. Seeing that delicate flesh pinched and ready for his kisses made him want to send up a few thousand prayers of gratitude.

Unable to wait a second more, he shoved her legs open wide. He held her gaze as he licked her from her clit to her entrance and back again, but he couldn’t maintain it when he pushed a finger inside and she trembled around him, her body yielding to his invasion. She moaned and flexed around him, inviting him inside her just as she’d done on the deck by licking her lips.

God. He wasn’t going to survive this. He wouldn’t survive without seeing her come, either.

He flicked her piercing, eliciting her high, thin cry, then focused on her clit. A rainbow of colors exploded in his mind. He swore he could hear her heartbeat, that wild, unsteady thud, and his own drummed in response, an endless beat that sped up at even the smallest movement. Razoring his teeth over the piercing and the plump bundle of nerves, he slid another finger inside her, pulling upward, coaxing that same melodic response from her throat, a delirious mixture of sigh and moan, more breath than actual sound.

In the background, his guitar solo dominated the song before her drums came crashing through, breaking apart the rhythm and making it something all new. Something all theirs.

Then a new sound, a new instrument to add complexity to the composition. Her sighing his name, over and over. She drew it out until it vibrated like the strings in his guitar. “Gray.”

He closed his eyes and savored, losing himself in the overwhelming pulse of their song, of her swollen, wet flesh around his pumping fingers, of her heart throbbing against his mouth. Tasting her pleasure as he created it felt more like making music than he’d ever known before.

Her body rose up, her full breasts lifting, her dusky nipples pointing skyward. Red from his fingers and her desire. He licked up the evidence of it between her legs, desperate to take it all, to fulfill every want she had before she found the voice to ask. Offering her bliss in small, steady doses until she quivered, her breasts shimmying, her muscles growing taut.