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***
Under her short coat, she’s wearing a short black dress. Girl likes her dresses.
That makes two of us.
“First question,” she says, smiling. “What is your full name?”
I frown. “Riddick?” Oh. “Riddick Evan Connors.”
Her mouth tightens. Guess she doesn’t like my name. Nothing royal about it. But she toes off her black pumps, distracting me.
My dick aches. I unzip my jeans, releasing some of the crazy pressure, and her eyes slide to the bulge between my legs. “Next question?” I prompt.
“What are your plans for the future?”
“My…?” The fuck. “To put my brother and mom in rehab, and get a permanent job,” I mutter, watching another shadow of disappointment glide over her features like a passing cloud. “Bry…”
This is going all wrong. Not sure what she expected from me, but…
She reaches behind her, unzips her dress. I’m utterly still as she lets the dress fall off her shoulders, then lower, uncovering her bra.
It’s black, shiny satin with pink bows, and it hugs her tits perfectly.
Jesus.
“Are you bisexual?” she asks.
I fall back against the cushions. Fuck, what did I agree to? Talk about a punch in the gut. “Bry…”
She’s waiting, holding her dress just under her boobs, a vision out of my wet dreams, her wide eyes knifing me to the heart.
“Yeah, I am,” I say at last. My sexuality was never a secret.
“And you think he’s sexy,” she says. “Ryan,” she clarifies, although it was perfectly clear the first time.
I don’t wanna talk about Ryan. “That’s another question,” I mutter.
She lets the dress drop.
Holy shit. I reach for my dick before I know it, cupping it over the cotton of my briefs.
She’s stunning. The matching black panties seem to be pointing at her pussy, a perfect triangle drawing my gaze between her legs.
She’s trying to kill me.
“So…” She arches a brow. “Ryan.”
“He’s hot,” I whisper, my brain on autopilot. “Just like you are. So fucking hot.”
Belatedly I realize what I said, and open my mouth in an effort to fix it—do I really think he’s as hot as she is?—but she beats me to it.
“Could you choose between us?”
And before I can think of an answer to that—and why do I even hesitate, dammit?—she reaches behind her and unhooks her bra. She pulls down the straps slowly, then holds the cups against her tits, not letting me see.
Tease.
“Well?” she whispers.
