"I miss Vi. Put her on," she says.
"You saw her yesterday," he says.
"And I still like talking to her more than I like talking to you," she says.
My shoulders relax. They're back to their normal teasing. They're going to this dinner without a fight.
Maybe this is going to be okay.
There's a sound upstairs. The door opens. Footsteps move into the hallway. The bathroom. The sink runs.
"I'll see you Friday. I gotta go," I say.
"Restraints or riding crop?" Ethan teases.
"No comment." She's not ready for either yet. But I do have a lot of fucking ideas.
"Ew." Piper squeals again.
"Don't knock it till you've tried it, Pipes," Ethan says.
She groans another ew.
"You should see the way Violet squirms when I—"
"TOO MANY DETAILS!" She takes a deep breath. "Bye, Mal. Play nice. Or… whatever you say that means play nice in your world. She seems good for you. Don't fuck it up."
"You taking life wisdom from Joel now?" Ethan asks.
"So what if I am?"
"How long do you have for me to answer that question?"
I chuckle. This is good. Normal. Happy. "See you guys." I hang up the phone.
Everything is good.
Everyone is happy.
But the tension is still in my chest. Hell, it's spreading out to my fingers and toes.
It eases as Lacey steps into the hallway. She tugs at her t-shirt, well, my t-shirt technically.
"You don't mind, do you?" She moves into the main room.
"You won't be wearing it for long."
She smiles. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Perfect."
18
Mal
I insist on making Lacey breakfast and tea.
We eat outside, on the deck, with the sun falling over us.
She's leaning back, her hands planted behind her, her knees a few inches apart. My t-shirt is long enough to fall to mid-thigh.
She shifts backwards and the t-shirt pulls up her smooth legs. She's wearing those pastel pink panties now.
I want them gone.
She catches me looking and presses her knees together. She shifts forward, sitting upright. "You have this look."
"Do I?"
"Same stuff as last night?"
"You remember?"
"I didn't drink that much."
I cock a brow.
"Scout's honor." She holds up her four fingers. Her lips curl into a smile.
She moves closer.
Closer.
Until her thigh is pressed against mine.
Until I can smell her, that floral soap and something distinctly Lacey.
She rests her head on my shoulder.
"What are you doing this Saturday?" I ask.
"Probably more stuff for the video." She looks up at me. "Why?"
"My parents are coming to town."
"You want me to meet your parents?"
"No."
Her eyes turn down. "Oh, well, of course not…"
"Piper liked you. It's… it's complicated, but she won't go unless you go."
"I'm bait?"
I nod.
"Okay. I can do bait. As long as I get a nice meal out of it."
"No salad and grilled fish?"
"You can have all the salad and grilled fish you want." She drags her fingertips up my forearms. "You're thinking something you aren't saying."
I nod.
"You don't want to talk about it?"
Again, I nod.
She motions to the living room. "You still want to get me naked?"
I place my hand on her thigh, my fingertips skimming the edge of her t-shirt. "What if I want you naked right here?"
"In Orange County? I'll get arrested."
Probably true.
I lean in to whisper in her ear, "Take off your panties."
"Here?"
I nod.
Her brown eyes meet mine. She holds my gaze as she slides her panties to her ankles.
"You trust me?" I ask.
She nods.
"To do whatever I want with you?"
This time, her breath catches in her throat. The flush in her cheeks spreads down to her chest. She squeezes her knees together. It's not modesty. It's an attempt to contain her desire.
I let my voice drop to that low, demanding tone. "I need a yes, Lacey."
"Yes." Her words are a whisper. A plea.
She needs me erasing all the bad memories of her ex ignoring her, rejecting her, sending her the message that she wasn't worth desire.
I need to clear my head.
To be in control of something again.
This is win/win.
I lean in to whisper. "Go upstairs, strip naked, lie on the bed, spread your legs, and wait for me."
"For how long?"
"Until I'm ready."
Her pupils dilate. This mix of desire and confusion spreads over her expression. She wants this. She can't believe that she wants this.
"Do I need a safe word or something?" she asks.
Fuck, she's earnest about it.
Honest.
"Not this time," I say.
She nods. Still, she stares at me.
I stare back at her. "Now."
Slowly, she pushes herself to her feet. I catch a glimpse of her cunt as she steps into the living room.
She leaves the sliding door open.
I watch her walk all the way up the stairs, I find what I need in the kitchen, then I make her wait for long enough to get her panting.
Who am I kidding? I should make her wait longer.
But I need this.
I need her.
The white light of morning is streaming through the curtains, bouncing off the white sheets, casting the room in a soft glow.
Lacey is lying on the bed, her legs a few inches apart.
I press the door closed behind me and set the bottle of champagne on the bedside table.
She pushes herself up on her elbows. Her eyes meet mine. They're equal parts nervous and needy.
I keep my voice that low, demanding tone. "You touch yourself, baby?"
Slowly, she shakes her head.
"You want to?"
"Yes." Her eyes go to the bottle then to my hands. To my crotch. My chest. My eyes. "I'd rather you touch me."
"You've thought about me?"
She nods.
"About me or about that guy who gets onstage?"
"Both. The former, since we met." She presses her lips together. "What's the champagne for?"
"For me. Then for you. If you want to sit up, go sit up against the headboard."
She pushes herself back on the bed so she's leaning against the headboard. Her legs aren't spread enough. I can barely see her.
She's nervous.
I have to take this slow, no matter how badly my cock begs for her soft pink lips.
I position myself at the foot of the bed. "Spread your legs."
She hesitates. I bite my tongue. I haven't thought about how I'll punish her. Fuck, the thought of spanking that cute ass of hers is making me hard.
But she's not ready for that yet.
I hold her gaze. "Now."
Slowly, she moves her knees apart.
"Fuck, baby. That's beautiful." She's soft and pink and she's already wet. Her eyes are on fire. Desire is pushing her nerves away. "Touch yourself."
"But—"
"Now."
This time, she doesn't hesitate. She slides her hand down her stomach, over her pelvis. Her fingers skim her inner thighs.
Then the pad of her middle finger is making slow circles against her clit.
She's already turned on. Already needy. She stares back at me with all this trust.
Her eyelids flutter closed as she rubs herself with those slow circles. I can see the pleasure spreading through her body. It starts with the shake of her thighs. The tensing of her st
omach muscles.
Her toes squeeze the sheets.
Her nipples tighten.
Her lips part with a sigh.
This is fucking beautiful, but she needs more.
I need more.
I move around the bed and take a seat next to her.
"Mal," she breathes. Her brow furrows like she's reaching for a word she can't find.
"Give me your hand."
She pulls her hand from her cunt.
"Press your first two fingers together."
She does.
I wrap my hand around her wrist and bring her fingers to my lips. I plant a soft kiss on her fingertip. Then another. Another. The taste of her is faint. I want more. I want her thighs pressed against my cheeks as she comes on my face.
Soon.
Very fucking soon.
Lacey stares back at me as I plant another soft kiss on her fingertips. There's already all this trust in her expression. More than I deserve, given how well we know each other.
But I still feel it in my core.
She trusts me with her body.
I'm going to prove I'm worth every fucking ounce of that trust.
Slowly, I bring her fingers into my mouth and suck hard.
They taste like her.
They taste fucking good.
I pull her hand away. "Touch yourself."
Her nod is heavy. Her breath is heavier. She presses her fingers against her clit. Her eyes stay glued to mine.
God, she's responsive.
Eager.
It's fucking captivating. Despite the spandex, my skinny jeans are very fucking uncomfortable.
Not that I'm complaining.
I stare back into her brown eyes. "Fuck yourself, baby."
Her pupils dilate. She nods. Slowly, she turns towards me. She spreads her legs wider. Wide enough her knee brushes against the back of my hand.
She wants me to touch her.
Fuck, how I want to touch her.
But this first.
She spreads her lips with her fingers.
Then she's teasing herself with her index finger.
With the middle finger.
She presses both together and she teases.
It makes her shake.
Pant.
Groan.
She stares back at me, her breath hitching, her cheeks flushing, and she slides her fingers into her cunt.
Her lips part with a sigh. "Fuck."
"Keep going, baby."
She presses her fingers deeper. Then she pulls them back. She does it again.
Again.
Slowly.
Then faster.
Harder.
Her eyelids flutter closed.
"Fuck, Mal…" Her voice breaks into a whine.
Right now, she needs me more than she needs anything.
Right now, the world makes sense.
I let go of the guardrails reminding me to take this slow. "Harder. Make me jealous of your fingers."
Her nod is still heavy. Needy.
This time, she complies without hesitating. She fucks herself with her fingers. It's hard, deep.
I am fucking jealous.
But I wait until she's at the edge. I can see it in the way her back arches, in the way her chest heaves with every inhale.
"You want to come, baby?" I ask.
She groans something incomprehensible.
"You come on my face first. Press your palms into the sheets."
"But…"
"Now."
She does. Almost. She tugs at the sheets, shifting her weight between her ass cheeks, tapping her toes against the bed.
She's so fucking close.
Damn, she looks beautiful with that mix of agony and ecstasy in her expression.
She watches me as I shift onto my knees and bring the bottle of champagne over her stomach.
I pop the cork.
It hits the fucking ceiling.
Bubbly spills over the sides of the bottle. It dribbles onto her stomach. I hold the bottle over her, dribbling champagne over her tits, over the hollow of her neck, over her chin and mouth.
She licks it off her lips.
Her eyes get hazy. She's too deep in desire to pull back now. And she's new to this.
I need to be extra careful.
Extra attentive.
I place the bottle back on the bedside table and I straddle her. Fuck, the feeling of her soft body under mine—
"Mal," she groans. "Fuck. Am I supposed to be this inarticulate?"
"Yes." I lean down to press my lips to hers.
Fuck, she tastes good. Like champagne and like Lacey. She kisses back, hard. Her lips nip at mine. Her tongue slides into my mouth.
She rocks her hips against mine.
The friction of her cunt against my cock begs me to fuck her.
It's torture resisting, but it's nothing compared to the way I'm torturing her.
Once I've lapped every drop of champagne off her lips, I move on to her chin. To that space where her collarbones meet.
To her chest. I lick every drop of champagne over her right breast, then I take her nipple into my mouth. She groans as I flick my tongue against her tender bud.
And when I bite her, just softly enough for it to hurt and feel good—
Fuck, the sound she makes is music.
"Mal." Her breath is heavy with desire.
It's intoxicating, how much she needs me. How much she's giving herself to me.
Lacey actually fucking knows me. Not all of me. Not even close.
But enough. Enough that I know she's giving herself to me and not to some hot stranger or some idea she has in her head about Malcolm Strong.
I toy with her nipples until she's bucking against me.
Slowly, I work my way down her stomach. I lap up every drop of champagne above her belly button.
Every drop below it.
My fingers curl around her inner thighs.
With one hard gesture, I pin her knees to the bed.
I drag my lips up her inner thigh until she's squirming hard enough to fight my grip.
Damn, she smells good.
She tastes better.
Lacey groans as I lick her clit with long, slow strokes. She's already close.
I tease her clit with short flicks of my tongue. Then harder. Faster.
She takes her hand from the bed and tugs at my hair.
Her hips buck against my face.
There, that's exactly what she needs.
She tugs at my hair as I lick her. Her legs fight my hands. Even when I dig my nails into her soft flesh, she presses her thighs against my fingers.
The mix of pain and pleasure only makes her groan louder.
It only makes her move faster.
Harder.
"Mal." She groans. She pants. She tugs at my hair. She takes her other hand and rakes her nails across my shoulder blades hard enough to draw blood. "Fuck…"
I watch the pleasure spread over her face, then I plant my head between her legs and I lick her through her orgasm.
I can feel her come in the way she pins her thighs to my ears. Her groans get deeper. Breathier.
Once she's come down, she lets her thighs fall back onto the bed.
Satisfaction spreads over her expression. But when she looks up at me, there's something else in her brown eyes.
She wants more.
She wants me.
Her voice is soft. "You said some of the champagne is for me."
I nod.
"Does that mean…?"
I nod.
Her tongue slides over her lips. She presses her palms into her thighs to shift forward. She looks up at me. Eager. Compliant.
I motion come here.
She does.
I dig my hand into her hair and pull her into a deep kiss. It's intimate as much as it's passionate.
Fuck, I want to kiss her as much as I want to come on her lips.
She needs me.
I need her
needing me.
But this is all I'm capable of giving her.
She sighs as I pull back. Her eyes stay fixed on me. She looks up at me, waiting for her next command.
I shift off the bed and take a step backwards, so there's enough room for her.
I pull my t-shirt over my head and toss it on the floor.
Her tongue slides over her lips.
I stare back at her. "Come here."
She shifts off the bed, onto her feet, and positions her body inches from mine.
I pull her into another deep kiss. My hands press between her shoulder blades. One slides to the back of her neck. The other cups her ass.
That gets her groaning into my mouth.
This time, when I pull back, her expression isn't one of satisfaction.
It's hungry.
Needy.
I nod. "On your knees."
She lowers herself onto her knees without hesitation.
I reach for the bottle of champagne. "Unzip my jeans and take out my cock."
Fuck, the feeling of her palm against my hard-on. Even with all this denim in the way—
She stares up at me as she unzips my jeans and pulls them, and my boxers, to my ankles.
Again, her tongue slides over her lips.
The patience in her expression is gone.
I lean back enough to dribble champagne over my chest, my stomach, my cock. Too many drops of it land on the hardwood floor. At the moment, I don't fucking care.
I don't care about anything but getting her lips around me.
I knot my hand in her hair and cup the back of her head. "Get every drop, baby."
Slowly, her eyes travel down my body. She lifts up enough to lick bubbly off my chest. My stomach.
Her mouth is soft and wet and she's moving so fucking slowly.
It's at my command, but it's still driving me out of my fucking mind.
She flicks her tongue against the spot just below my belly button.
Against my upper thigh. The right, then the left.
Something in her expression shifts. This nervousness that's been gone.
Because of her ex? Because he couldn't get it up? No, that's not it. I'm hard enough to cut fucking diamonds.
It must be that he started hard and lost it…
She's ashamed. Thinks it was her fault. That there's something wrong with her.
I tug at her hair and stare back into her eyes. I need to push her. "You want me to come on your pretty pink lips?"
Her pupils dilate. "Yes."
"You want to feel me in the back of your throat?"
"I don't know. Will it hurt?"
"Yes."
"I… I do. What if it's too much?"
Dangerous Fling: A Rock Star Romance (Dangerous Noise Book 4) Page 15