Page 555 of Devil’s Disciples

We ate the mangled pizza, talked of our days at work, the motorcycle he had on order at the Harley dealership, and of the upcoming poker run. In no time, we were finished with our meals, and enjoying the wine.

“The food was really good,” I said. “Where’d you get it?”

“Primo-something, up the street. Goose told me about it. Italian kid owns it. He came here from Jersey.”

“The pizza was just kind of mangled,” I said. “Other than that, I really liked it.”

“That’s on me,” he said. “Had to put the boxes in my saddlebags on their sides. When I got here, the pizza was in a wad. Didn’t straighten out too good. I gave it my best.”

I laughed to myself. In my eyes, he was adorable. “You did good. How much time?’

He checked his watch. “Fourteen minutes.”

It had been dark for an hour or so. I gazed up at the sky, but didn’t see anything spectacular, short of a starry sky.

“Does it start all at once?” I asked.

He tilted his head back and gazed up at the sky. “Think so.”

“Time?” I asked, not bothering to look away from the sky.

“Twelve.”

I reached under my skirt hooked my thumbs under the waistband of my panties and worked them down my legs. As I maneuvered them past my feet, I glanced at Reno.

He didn’t have a clue.

I dropped them at my side. “Time?”

He checked his watch. “Eleven.”

I stood, stepped to the edge of the deck, and leaned onto the handrail. After checking over my shoulder, I flipped my skirt to my waist.

“Moon’s out,” I said.

“I don’t see it.”

“Moon’s out,” I said.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“Trying to get some love before this starts,” I said. “Ten minutes worth, at least.”

He glanced over each shoulder, pushed his shorts down in one shove, and gripped his cock in his fist. “Don’t have to ask me twice.”

There was no preparation time required for me to have sex with Reno. I was as ready as I could get every time I was in his presence. All it took for me to get ready was to look at him and imagine us making love.

Seeing him with his stiff dick in his hand put me over the top. I braced myself against the handrail, arched my back, and drew a breath.

He pressed his lips against my neck.

I nudged him with my shoulder. “Stop it. There’s no time for that,” I said, although I wished he’d never stop doing it.

He ground his hips against my butt, causing his rigid shaft to slap against my swollen mound with each playful gyration of his hips.

“Stop messing around and give me some love,” I complained. “The show starts in ten minutes.”

He paused. “Seven.”