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You want to fuck him.
For fuck’s sake. I waved it away, disgusted with myself.
The music kicked off, thankfully stalling any further conversation, washing over me and taking me out of my mind.
A couple of hours later, I flopped back on my bed, breathless. “I am never missing another show,” I declared.
Lucky laughed and reached over and squeezed my breast. “We’re all pretty ramped up after playing. It’s one of the perks of having a boyfriend in a band.”
“Oh, yeah?” I smirked. “So, you’re my boyfriend?”
“Well, what else would you call me? Hot man-candy?”
“That might work. How about boy-toy?”
His eyes bugged out. “Boy toy? Uh, no. Mighty man meat, maybe, but not boy toy.”
“Man meat,” I scoffed. “How about life-size vibrator?”
He splayed his hand over his chest. “I’m feeling objectified! I could get on board with purveyor of pleasure or commander of orgasms. I’ll be your COO or your POP.”
“Pop? How about I just call you ‘daddy’?”
“Well, I don’t know,” he pretended to ponder as he rolled into me and tucked me beneath him. “Are you going to be a good girl?”
“Well, I don’t know,” I mimicked. “Do you want a good girl?”
He tucked his face into my neck and ran his tongue along the line of my throat. “Not in this room.”
Lucky
I can’t believe I ever believed her face to be impassive when it was anything but.
Tonight alone, the barrage of emotions included jealousy, insecurity, shame, embarrassment, joy, and now pleasure.
Deeply flushed with it.
Her hair spread out over her pillow.
Mouth soft and gasping, gasping my fucking name.
She could call me whatever the hell she wanted so long as I was the only one between her thighs.
I drove inside her slowly, drawing it out, waiting for the telltale sounds that told me she was close.
Temporary wasn’t going to be enough.
“Lucky,” she gasped, running her hands down to my ass and digging in. “Please, baby.”
“Please what?”
“Go hard.”
“Are you going to be a good girl?”
“Most of the time,” she mewled.
I maintained my steady pace, sweat beading my brow.
