“Stop trying to steal my man, Jon.”
He waves it away. “Should have known, he’s too rugged to be gay.” He winks at me. “Have fun, and don’t let her get you into too much trouble.” Then he blows us both a kiss and shuts the door.
She looks back at me with a wide smile, and I hand her the flowers. “For you, Angel,” I murmur.
She laughs and grabs them, looking really happy. “Come in.” She backs inside. “I just need to get dressed. It won’t take me a minute. Make yourself comfortable.”
She stops, and with a quick spin on her heel, she presses her body against mine, lifts onto her tiptoes, and kisses me. I groan, barely refraining from grabbing her and throwing her down on the sofa and fucking her senseless. I do cup the back of her head and deepen it before pulling away. She’s gasping, and I smirk. “Go get dressed before I decide you don’t need clothes,” I warn.
She grins and turns to do just that, but I can’t help myself, I drag her back and kiss her again, making her laugh as her robe slips open slightly, exposing the crests of her bare breasts. I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fuck, go now,” I mutter.
Laughing, she turns, and with a wink over her shoulder, she drops the robe and saunters down the corridor naked. Her perky fucking ass is on display, her long, thick, toned thighs too. My cock jerks in my trousers as I watch her, my fingers itching to squeeze those globes as I slam into her from behind, remembering the way she liked it rough.
I turn away before I follow her to her bedroom and look around the apartment, being nosy. There are two emerald green sofas in an L-shape with a small coffee table between them facing a TV. In the corner is a bookshelf, and I head over there, looking across the mixture of books—business manuals, biographies, romances, and thrillers. Seems my girl likes everything. I wander over the fluffy black rug and past the partition into a small but long kitchen. They could have certainly made more space in here, but that’s my architect brain.
It’s all spotless and homey, it feels like Lexi. She has paintings of burlesque dancers and singers everywhere, displaying her passion. On the fridge is a group photo, and I take a closer look. She’s in the middle in a long, glittering, almost see-through gown. To her left is a younger blonde girl with darkened eyes, and to her right is a black-haired older woman. At the very end is a red-haired woman who’s around Lexi’s age. They are all smiling, standing on a stage with their arms around each other.
“Those are my girls, we perform together,” she tells me, and I turn to see her standing in the doorway. Her head is tilted as she puts in some earrings, and her lips are painted red. Her eyes are darkened and her eyebrows too. Her hair is wavy and perfect, looking soft and silky. But it’s the dress that stops me.
“Fucking hell, Angel,” I mutter, eyes wide and mouth dry.
It’s red and skintight, clinging to those delicious curves, and her breasts almost spill from the top. It looks like silk and stops at the top of her thighs, only held up by two tiny spaghetti straps. It’s a killer dress. And I’m instantly jealous of the fabric touching her skin. My cock jerks appreciatively, and I can’t stop running my eyes over her as she squirms.
“Well, is this sexy enough?” she teases.
“I don’t know if I can let you out,” I growl, backing her into the wall. She tilts her head back with a smile, stroking her hand down my chest to my hard cock, which she squeezes through my pants.
“If you’re good, you can see it on the floor later.” She cheekily leans up and kisses me before ducking under my arm. “But I’m hungry right now, and not just for your cock, so feed me, Daddy, and then after you can show me how much you like this dress…and the very small panties I have on…with no bra,” she purrs as she slips into some heels.
I close my eyes for a moment to regain control, aching to pull down the dress and see if she’s serious. She laughs and pulls on a long black coat, which I do up for her. “Let’s go before I decide I can’t keep my