Page 12 of Lucky's Trouble

Turning to face me, she dances in the space between my legs. “Why should I tell you anything? I don’t even know you.”

“What are you doing tomorrow morning?” I ask, trying my damnedest to keep my eyes off her bouncing tits. Fuck, it’s hard. If I could conjure up my perfect woman, it’d be the one standing in front of me right now.

Focus, asshole.

This argument we’re having allows me to finally see the biggest difference between my friend and her siren of a sister. It’s the attitude. Myla is sweet and almost shy; she makes me want to tuck her in my pocket and protect her. Tinleigh’s nothing like that. She’s fire and confidence, a woman who would fight alongside you.

“Why?” She stands on the bench, putting her barely-covered pussy right in front of my face as she continues to dance.

“Why don’t you come to the Honey Pot and see her? She’s working nights, so if you come in the morning, she won’t be asleep yet.” I don’t even try to keep my eyes off the apex of her thighs. She’s bald down there, I just know it, and I can see the outline of her puffy lips. And is that a wet spot? Is she turned on by me, too?

Maybe this chemistry isn’t one-sided after all.

“I can’t. I’m busy.”

“Surely, you can spare an hour for your sister.” I can’t help but run my hands down the outside of her smooth, muscular thighs.

“I don’t have a car.”

“I’ll come get you.” I reach around to the swells of her ass, allowing myself one final squeeze to take home with me.

“That’s not a good idea.” Something flashes in her eyes. Fear, maybe?

“What are you worried about?” I ask.

“I’m not allowed to go places without protection.”

“A babysitter,” I deadpan.

I’ve heard rumors about the douchebag owner, Neal. He keeps a tight hold on his girls. I’ve even heard sinister whispers of him being involved in some darker things, though I’ve never seen substantial evidence. I’m sure Myla would’ve said something.

“Either way, I can’t go.”

From what Myla’s told me, all the Thirst Trap girls live in the same apartment complex. Neal makes it sound like a perk of the job, but really, it’s just another way he controls the girls who work for him.

“Sneak out and meet me near your place. You can go and be back before anyone notices.”

She grips the back of my head and brings it to her core, grinding against my face, probably to shut me up, but I don’t give a shit. This is the best day of my life. I swipe my tongue along the fabric covering her cunt and don’t miss her sharp intake of breath.

Eventually, she’ll either move away and give me an answer, or I’ll suffocate. Honestly, I’m good with either one.

She kneels down and then bends her torso all the way back until she’s lying on my outstretched thighs like a damn buffet. The long stretch of her body causes the fabric of her panties to lower even more, giving me a peak at the top of her slit. Goddamn. I’d give my left nut to know what she looks like underneath. Does her clit hide beneath a fleshy hood, or is it big and juicy, peeking out of her pussy lips?

To stop myself from ripping the tiny scrap of fabric off her body, I run a hand from between her tits down to below her cute belly button, stroking my thumb over the slightly stubbled skin from where she waxes.

“Answer me,” I say.

Using muscles I didn’t know existed, she sits up fully without the use of her arms. “I’ll meet you at the diner on First Street. Do you know it?”

I run through the map in my head of the area I know she lives in, picturing a run-down place I’ve never been to but have seen. “Yeah. What time?”

“Eight. I usually sleep until late afternoon, so no one will come looking for me before then.”

“It’s a deal.”

The song ends, and she climbs off me. I stand, almost chuckling at the drastic size difference between us. It’s easy to forget how short she is when she’s throwing her big attitude around. I pull out my wallet, connected to my belt by a heavy chain, and grab two, hundred-dollar bills.

I hold them out to her, but she doesn’t take it because her gaze is fixed on where my pants are tented.

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