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“Have you gone?”
“Did you go?”
The whole Wifezilla group starts asking me. As if I were part of their little clique, one of them.
“No of course not,” I mumble, surprised and pulling my hand back.
“I’m going.”
“Me too.”
“I’m going today.”
They obviously can’t wait to line up to get serviced by the men of Inked.
Another ripple goes through me.
But is it anger?
Or because I’m jealous?
Is it because I want it too?
The thought stops me in my tracks. I glance at Rock. He hasn’t moved from the spot I left him at behind the counter, like he owns the place. Like he owns me. The words he’d said to me echo in my mind, I would scare you…we’d scare you.
Does it scare me? Rock hasn’t confirmed that all the guys have sex together.
With the same woman.
At the same time.
I look back at Sasha’s satisfied face, (I’ve never seen her looking so content).
From what I overheard, she confirmed it. And they did it very, very well.
I look back at Rock. He hasn’t budged. He’s waiting for me.
Is he a part of it too?
His expression is hard and unreadable, his body, that body that’s a work of art, is taut and unmoving.
He didn’t make me feel cheap or used. On the contrary, he made me feel adored. Over and over again.
A shot of heat flashes through me at the memories.
Does he want to do that with me? With his friends? Together?
I haven’t moved from my spot as mine and Rock’s eyes are locked together.
I imagine Snake, Bull, and Gringo tasting me, touching me, using me. And Rock telling them to. Telling them to put their tongues on my body, telling them to stroke me inside and out, and telling me to open my mouth and suck them.
Every nerve-ending I have jolts sparks of electricity through me as my core tightens and my breasts ache.
Do I want that? Do I want all four of them together?
My loins pulse as I drag my lower lip through my teeth. Rock has me pinned with his glare as a slow grin lifts the corners of his sinful mouth, that mouth that told me so many filthy things last night.
...Open your fucking legs…
