Breezy got up and went to the bar. He watched her walk, wondering why a woman would ever want to wear clothes, and why her man would want her to. When she moved, he knew the meaning of poetry. The female form was beautiful, no matter what. Her body, to him, was stunning. Gorgeous. It was no wonder, knowing her the way he did, that he reacted physically to her. She was as beautiful inside as she was outside.
She bent to get another water out of the refrigerator for herself. When she bent, the firm globes of her ass with his ink dripping over the curves declaring her forever his, sent his cock into a frenzy. Blood rushed, pooled. Low. Wicked. Sinful. The ache turned to pain. For a man like him, one who couldn’t have a normal erection, the sudden steel running through his cock was a miracle.
She didn’t return to the chair, but instead, stayed a distance from him, leaning on the bar. The sun shone on her breasts. He wanted to spend hours on her breasts, and devouring her spicy honey, drawing moans and cries from her. She was so responsive, genuinely so, and he loved that about her. Breezy was always unexpected—a mixture of submission and demands.
“Once we were here, away from the Swords, and we began to interact with other clubs, going to their parties and inviting them to ours, I decided to try to find a better way to sleep than drowning myself in alcohol. I didn’t want to be in any other body but yours. I knew that. I also knew if I wanted a release, I had to work at getting one. Or have the woman work at it.”
Her eyes were on his cock, mesmerized by his fist circling the rigid shaft, once more sliding slowly up and down, fingers tight. Her tongue touched her upper lip, and his cock jerked hard. Little pearly droplets made an appearance on the broad crown.
“One woman never got me off. Not ever, no matter how long I was in her mouth. Then two didn’t. No matter how much I commanded my body to obey, how much I needed the release, I couldn’t get there. I’d had your body, your mouth, your ass. No one else was going to do for me. I haven’t been inside another woman. Not one time since you’ve been gone. There’s only been you.”
He watched her expression carefully. She didn’t have a poker face. He was telling the absolute truth. It was possible the copious amounts of alcohol he’d drunk had contributed to his inability to get hard, but it hadn’t mattered. He hadn’t wanted to be inside another woman.
“I got off looking at those pictures of you. So fucking sexy.” He pulled out his phone and texted Maestro. Needing his help. Needing to know his woman was his again.
“How did you get those pictures? You were inside me and you didn’t have a camera.”
“I asked Storm to take them. He likes that shit. Gets off on it. Apparently, I do too, as long as it’s you. Come here, baby.” Just the idea excited him. “Don’t you get a little hot thinking about getting pictures of us fucking? Just a little?” He folded the bath towels and dropped them in front of his chair.
She sent him an enigmatic smile and a small shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s hot knowing you jerked off to them.”
“Are you damp? Touch yourself and let me see.”
Breezy dropped her hand between her legs and curled her fingers into her body. He nearly groaned aloud watching as her hips did a slow undulation, and then she raised the two fingers into the air to show him the liquid coating them before licking them clean.
“I want your mouth on me and I want pictures of that. The photographs are just for me, or us. I love looking at you. That look you get on your face when I’m sending you over the edge. It’s hotter than hell and so beautiful.”
She moved toward him slowly. The sun added a glow to her skin and put highlights in her hair, which was still in that messy knot on top of her head. Every step she took had her breasts moving suggestively. Her hands followed the indentation at her waist and moved over the curve of her hip.
“You okay with the boys taking a few pictures? I brought the camera, just in case. They’ll be somewhere out of the