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“Are you wet for me, sweetheart?” The question slips out, raw and rough, like sandpaper. My arousal is undeniable, a solid presence between her spread legs.
“Fuck, Mickey,” she groans, her back curving, pushing her body even closer to mine. The heat of her radiates through the thin barrier of clothing, branding me with unspoken promises.
“Show me,” I demand, a possessive growl tinting my words as I slip my hand lower, over the curve of her hip, inching toward the evidence of her arousal. Every nerve ending screams for contact, for the ultimate surrender.
I frown as Gail slaps my hand away. “I have a better idea.” When she gets off me and scoots back to lean against the headboard, I get the urge to tell her that whatever she has in mind is a terrible idea. “You’ve seen me plenty of times, but I’ve never seen you naked.”
Hasn’t she? Hmm, I can understand if she didn’t notice much when we tore her mask off at Cupid’s Court. And when I’ve come to sleep next to her, I’ve purposefully kept her facing away from me.
“You want a show?” I smirk.
“Please,” she gasps, her breathing shallow and ragged.
Gail
I can’t quite believe it. Mickey is not only stripping, he’s giving me a show that’s worthy of Las Vegas. Okay, that’s not strictly true. He’s not undulating his hips, or rubbing his shirt between his legs. Though with the intense eye contact he keeps, it feels just as hot.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?” he rasps, and I nod.
The sight is mesmerizing—the way Mickey’s fingers deftly work the buttons on his shirt, revealing a canvas of taut skin beneath. My fingers itch to trace the lines and curves that define them. It’s a feast for the senses, and I am ravenous.
As he unbuckles his belt, undoes the button and zipper on his jeans and shimmies them down his legs, I lose the fight to keep my eyes on his. I shamelessly take in every inch of skin he’s exposing, licking my lips as he hooks his thumbs into his boxer briefs, pushing them down his thick, muscular legs.
Moans punctuate the air, low and primal, as the final piece of fabric slips to the floor. It takes me a moment to realize I’m the one moaning in response to finally seeing his body. My first instinct is to feel embarrassed, but I refuse to.
“God, Gail! You’re killing me here,” Mickey groans, his voice threaded with lust.
“Good,” I retort, my tone playful yet edged with need. It’s a game of push and pull, and for the first time, I’m not the toy or an unseeing spectator—I’m part of the play.
I let my gaze drop to his erection, and I part my lips at the sight of his hard cock. “So itisyou,” I whisper when I notice the silver in the tip. Wearing the mask sharpened my other senses, even my hearing despite the noise distorting earbuds. I’ve suspected Mickey was the pierced one since I found out it was them, but I love that I now know for certain.
Pushing myself up, I crawl to the edge, beckoning him closer with my finger. When he’s within reach, I experimentally wrap my hand around his cock, stroking it twice while I smile slyly up at him.
“Sweetheart!” The gravel in his voice makes it come out like a warning, one I have no intention of heeding.
Getting off the bed, I point at it. “Lie down,” I demand. I’m surprised when he actually does as I say, and especially as he does it without protesting.
While he makes himself comfortable, I quickly strip down to my underwear. Although I’m already slick between my folds, I keep it on. I’m not ready to let Mickey take me yet. First, I want my fill, and then I’ll only give in if he truly seems sorry. I appreciate him opening up and telling me about his past, but that doesn’t mean he gets into my pants. At least not without working for it.
I get back on the bed, straddling Mickey again. When he reaches for me, I slap his hands away. “Not yet,” I purr as I lower myself so my pussy is resting right on top of his shaft. The flimsy barrier of my thong barely matters, I can feel his heat and the wetness from his pre-cum.
Taking my time, I roam my hands over his body, tracing the inked “7” tattoo on his left pec. “Didn’t know you had this,” I muse, continuing to run my hands down the plains and valleys of muscle sculpted from years on the ice.
He sucks in a breath as I lean down, my black and white hair cascading around us like a curtain. Using my tongue, I lick a wet trail from his collarbone almost all the way to his navel, pushing myself up so I can reach. With each lap of my tongue, he shivers under me.
“Fuck, Gail,” he growls when my mouth closes around a nipple, teasing it with the edge of my teeth.
The air in my cold apartment is forgotten as our bodies generate a relentless heat. His hands find their way to my hips, and this time I let him guide my movements as I grind on his hard cock, his Prince Albert piercing hitting my clit just right with every movement of my hips.
“Mickey,” I moan. I move faster, harder, chasing my orgasm. “I… fuck. I’m so close.”
Letting go of my hips, he moves his hands to my bra, unclasping it so my breasts fall free. Cupping them, he rolls and pinches my sensitive nipples. “Keep going, sweetheart,” he rasps. “Use my hard cock to get yourself off.”
I do just that, grinding my cunt along his shaft. The crotch of my thong is completely drenched in our mixed juices, and the thought amps my desire for more.
“I want to fuck you,” I moan as I come to a stop.
Mickey smirks up at me, his silver eyes boring into my blue ones. “Then fuck yourself. Impale that pretty pussy on my cock, Gail. Let me feel you tighten around me as you try to milk the cum from my nuts.”
