Page 49 of Sinners Reunion

“What do I have to do with the squash, exactly?”

She twists the gourd in her hand, then cocks her head and looks at me. “I think you can use your imagination.”

Okay. I guess this is happening. I guess I’m about to fuck her with a bumpy yellow squash. In Chef Maurice’s kitchen. When he could return at any moment.

What is it about her that makes me do such horribly stupid things? If I could just figure that out, perhaps I could apply thrust, jettison the contents of my heart, and shoot safely out of her gravitational field.

But for now, I just want to bury my face in her space junk.

Still not believing what’s happening, I grab the phallic object and test its heft in my hand. Puh. I’m bigger, both in girth and length . . . so long as we don’t count the bulbous base. We are not a monster with a coke-can cock, after all.

“See how it’s curved and bumpy?” She points as if I don’t have eyes. “That’s gonna feel amazing. Then you can think about how good you made me feel while you’re beating your dick into the piss bucket later.”

“How kind of you to consider my needs,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Maybe you should just fuck yourself with the squash while I watch.”

She hops off the counter and spins around, then leans on the wooden surface. Peering at me over her shoulder, she gives her ass a little wiggle.

On second thought, maybe I’m being a bit closed-minded.

Her fingers push between her legs, and as she pulls her cotton shorts and lacy underwear to the side, exposing herself to me, I’m drawn to her, squash first.

After removing the stem, I ready the gourd by gently twisting the slender head and coating it in her desire. It takes some doing, but I manage to work all six inches inside her, right up to the base. Her pink-painted toenails curl into her sandals as I fuck her a bit harder.

“That’s a good girl,” I whisper. “You take that bumpy son of a bitch.”

She tries to push me away. “Never mind!”

“Sorry,” I say, though I don’t mean it. How can she expect me to take this seriously?

She brushes her hair out of her face with an exasperated grumble, and I feel like an ass. My needy little beauty is begging for release, and I’m being insensitive. Isn’t this exactly why I find her so intriguing? These odd little asks?

I go back to work and find a good rhythm. With the diligence of a sex toy, I pinch her pert little nipples as I keep a steady pace with that squash. Her hips buck, and her eyes roll, but I just can’t seem to get her where she needs to go.

“Fuck, I need your cock,” she groans. After a brief internal battle, she opens her eyes. “Just . . . fuck me.”

I speed up with the squash again, but she grips my wrist and stops me.

“What? No. Not with that.” She reaches between us and grips the gym shorts I borrowed from Aven because I forgot what regular men wear when knocking around outside of work. Her hand slides beneath the waistband, and I nearly collapse from a shock of pleasure when she grips my cock. “I need this.”

Before she can change her mind, I toss the squash back into the box with the rest as my shorts and underwear drop to my ankles. I have never felt more naked than I do right now with clothes on. I go to step fully out of them, but Josie waves me toward her.

“No time! He could come back at any second, and I’m already so close.”

I shuffle closer and knock her legs a little wider, dropping her pussy at the perfect angle. She slips onto my cock as if she were made for me. Bracing herself on the counter, she pushes against me as I hold her waist and fuck her at a painfully slow pace. Her head falls back at the apex of each thrust.

“Oh, fuck,” she moans. “I’m close. Just stay at that speed. It’s coming over me like a fucking wave.”

I love it when she tells me what it feels like for her. I love hearing what I’m doing to her. It’s not anything I could explain to her. I can’t put it into words. Nothing compares to being inside her. It’s not fireworks and doves and ringing bells. It’s wildfires and wind and the earth opening up. Each experience brings some new layer I’ve yet to discover, and I only want to explore her more.

And that’s when it dawns on me. Despite the strange sexual conquests, murder, and odd games we play, there is still one experience Josie has yet to share with me.

I’ve yet to kiss her.

“I said don’t stop,” she whispers, and I realize I started to think a bit too hard and nearly lost the beat she needs.

I ease my hips forward again, and she starts to shake. My hand moves between us, and I look at the place where we join as I stroke her back entrance to heighten her pleasure. Unable to hold back any longer, she drops her forehead to the counter and moans long and hard.

“That’s my beauty,” I whisper.