One to Chase - Tia Louise Page 0,91

laughed, jerking them out and loosening my hair.

It cascaded around us as his fingers found their way inside my already-soaked thong. A low moan scraped from my throat as he teased the wetness in me.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” His mouth moved up my neck behind my ear, and chills skated across my skin. “I plan on making love to you all night.”

Equally fast, he caught the hem of my dress. I had only just unfastened the pearl button at the back of my neck before it was over my head and off. Spinning to face him, I opened the buttons on his shirt quickly to reveal his lovely, lined torso.

Leaning down to lick his nipple, my hands moved to the waist of his pants, but he was ahead of me.

“Mmm...” A low groan vibrated his midsection as my fingers traced the line of ink on his hipbone, following the sexy muscle that wrapped his pelvis. Oblique.

Slacks down, I wasted no time dropping to my knees and lifting his straining, mushroom tip to my lips. I gave it a slow sweep with my tongue, and he fell back against the door with a groan, “Oh, fuck.”

Flickering my tongue under and down his shaft, I gripped it, pumping as I rose up to give his ink a kiss and a lick. Strong hands under my arms, he swept me off my feet before I could think.

“I wasn’t finished,” I complained, my legs going around his waist as he carried me to my bedroom.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got all night,” he said before claiming my mouth...

Today sitting in the Pink Pig, waiting for him to meet me for lunch, the events of last night filter through my mind like a slideshow. We arrived at China Girl, and when Roland and Karen appeared, C.J. whisked me away with him and Taylor, the... attractive young man my bestie has a crush on.

As much as I hate it, I can’t help a little smile at what happened next. I don’t want my past dragged back into the limelight, but seeing Marcus beat the shit out of Roland Dickerson might’ve been the highlight of my life.

Roland was truly a bastard in school. Still, rape had never entered my mind as a legitimate accusation. Not after the three years I’d spent acting out my anger against my father.

I’d drowned his ongoing lies with alcohol and meaningless sex, and waking up alone in Roland’s hotel room, my panties gone and the sticky evidence on my thighs that he’d fucked me... Oh, god. My throat closes at the memory.

I was actually thankful I couldn’t remember sleeping with him or his slimy hands touching my body. I didn’t even remember leaving the bar with him. It was my personal rock bottom. The siren scream that I had to get my shit together.

Sylvia had begged me to talk to someone or go to counseling for my behavior. She had no idea what our father was doing behind her back, the secret eating away at my heart.

Every time he touched her, and she’d smile warmly, eyes full of trust and devotion, my insides burned blacker. Every time she sacrificed something she loved or some cherished ambition in service of his needs or his career, I wanted to throw things. I wanted to scream in his face, scream until my lungs hurt. He was the lying cheater.

Of course, when Karen found out I’d slept with her boyfriend, she made me Public Enemy Number One. It didn’t take much for people to believe her after the way I’d spiraled out of control.

She’s held that night over my head ever since, painting me as the slut who tried to steal her man. As if Roland Dickerson were something worth stealing.

A waiter appears to take my drink order. I ask for a Sicilian Blood Orange tea and an appetizer of marinated olives and the chef’s selected cheeses. He nods and disappears, and my phone vibrates. Pulling it out, I glance down to see a text from Marcus.

Almost there. Can’t wait to see you again.

A little smile. My hero. My defender. My fantastic lover who is everything I’ve ever wanted. A shimmer of happiness warms my stomach.

Shall I order you a drink? I’m about to hit Send, when I realize someone’s standing at my table.

Karen.

“Roland is having his jaw wired shut.” Her cold voice drips with evil intent, but hello, I’m not afraid anymore.

I pick up a pork-fried almond from the small cup on the table. “Maybe he’ll lose