Page 9 of The Fake Out

I sighed again and grabbed her hands so she’d stop touching me, mostly because my cock was lifting in interest again. I had great stamina, but she already made me come twice tonight. I didn’t think a third time was possible.

“I thought she was my forever,” I admitted.

“I understand that.”

“You do?”

She nodded into my chest. I lifted her chin up and found she looked defeated. I didn’t know this woman, but I didn’t like the sadness in her eyes.

“My ex left a week before our wedding,” she explained. “He didn’t even leave a note. He packed up all his things and left.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head. “Not your fault. No offense, but men are garbage, so I don’t do relationships anymore.”

Hmm. That explained why she invited me up for sex and nothing more. She just wanted a casual fuck. Maybe I should want that too, but that had never been who I was.

She removed herself from me and leaned over to grab a card off her bedside table. She pushed it into my hand. “Here. They can help you with a cover-up if you want it.”

I glanced at the card. It read Golden Rose Tattoo on South Street. Wait…

“Do you know Eddie Mezzanetti?” I asked. Eddie was my tattoo artist here in Philly.

“Yeah! He’s my brother-in-law.”

“Nice! He did my phoenix.”

She grinned and pointed to her leg. “Mine too. He’s amazing.”

I ran my hands down the tattoo on her thigh. The head of the bird started right below her hip bone and ran down to her mid-thigh, the red and gold feathers of the bird contouring her luscious body. Touching her again was doing something to me, and the way her whiskey-colored eyes bored into me, I knew our night wasn’t over.

“You see something you like?” she asked huskily.

“Yeah, a very hot naked lady with beautiful tattoos that I want to lick and kiss.”

She mewed a little as I kissed her neck, and my hands went to her perky tits. They fit in my hands like they were built to be cupped. I kissed down her chest again, spending some much-needed time licking and sucking on her tits until she moaned for me again. It surprised me when I slid my fingers down the juncture of her thighs and found her soaking wet again.

She pushed me off her and opened the drawer to her bedside table again. She pulled out a strip of condoms and threw them at my chest. But I was more interested in the oblong object in the purple cloth bag.

“Is that your vibrator?” I asked.

“Yeah…” she trailed off and gave me a funny look.

“I need some time to recover before I can go again. Can I use it on you?”

She looked at me like I had two heads. “What?”

I took the vibrator out of the bag, and her eyes went wide. The vibrator was purple with a long shaft and a section closer to the top that looked like two bunny ears. I tested the button, and it hummed to life. There were several settings, and her eyes widened more when I went through them all.

“Which setting do you like?” I asked.

“You can’t be serious,” she said with a shaky breath.

I grinned. “I love using sex toys. I’m gonna make you cry for my cock while I use it.”

“Oh my God! Who are you?”

I flashed her a naughty smile. “Blaise Holmstrom, hockey player and a good lay.”