Page 45 of Play Dirty

She sits down on his cock, her back arched, practically begging me to pull her hair.

So I do. And when I pull too hard, she twists around, reaching back to slap my face. I swat her hand away and push her forward until she falls onto Alexander’s chest.

I lean down, swipe my tongue around the rim of her ass, then spit and massage it in with my fingertips. I scoot up, Alexander’s leg between mine, my balls dragging across his thighs, and push my cock inside her.

“Oh,” she moans. “Oh, oh, oh….”

We are sweaty. Hot and slick. Alexander stops to let me find my way past his huge cock already inside her, and then we both begin. Slowly. Just small pushes and pulls. Barely moving.

Augustine is making noises I’ve never heard before. Not even when we used to do this all those years ago. I grab her hair, pull her up off his chest, forcing her to arch her back, and then wrap my other hand around her throat so I can hold her in place so I can kiss her and fuck her at the same time.

She comes.

There’s no way she can’t.

This is what she wants. What she’s been missing.

This is why I’m necessary.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I didn’t stay the night. I probably should’ve. Might’ve even enjoyed it, but staying the night is a big step forward and I’m not sure I want to move forward.

This completes them, fine. But what’s it do for me? Aside from make my life more complicated?

I mean look, these two people are married. They don’t want to get a divorce. They’re so committed to each other they have decided adding a third is the only way to save what they have.

That’s their goal.

Augustine has already tried to call me several times this morning and I’ve let them all go to voicemail. And I’m not at home or work, so she can’t pop up and find me. At least not yet.

I just need some space to try to figure out if I want to participate. I need to think. I need…

My phone buzzes in my pocket, interrupting my thoughts. It’s probably them, so when I take out my phone and check the screen, I’m pleasantly surprised to see Ixion’s name come up.

“Ix,” I say. “What’s up?”

“Hey, you free right now? Or you busy?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m asking.”

Fucking Ixion. “Sure. What do ya need?”

“Meet me at the Mile High Cafe in half an hour.” And then the call ends with three quick beeps.

Hmmm. What’s this about?

I’m sitting in a booth on the second floor of the Barrister Club. I’m not a paying member, but I’m on my father’s list of permanent guests. And it’s a great place to hide when you don’t want to be disturbed. Plus, it’s right across the street from the courthouse, so it’s the perfect place to go between court cases and, as a bonus, the Mile High Cafe is like a five-minute walk from here.

Which gives me plenty of time to sit and stew on this impromptu phone call from Ixion. Lots of time to wonder what he’s up to. Did Augustine call him? Tell him what we did last night? Is he going to warn me? Or scold me? Or tell me to back away?

I have no clue. But I can picture him doing all three, so…

When I get to the cafe Ixion already has a table near the back. So I point to him when the hostess asks me for my name. This place is crazy busy at lunch and there is almost always a wait if you’re not just picking up an order.

I weave my way through the tables and take the seat across from him, thankful for the ceiling fan directly above us, because today is just a little bit too warm.