Page 74 of Yours Truly

I grab my things and head out, already making plans in my head. Because Trace may not know this yet but he wants more than sex. He wants to earn it.

And he will.

I don’t even get the chance to knock. Trace opens his front door as I’m taking the porch steps, letting out a rush of distinctly Trace smells. Pine, shampoo, deodorant and now? Coffee.

I’m glad it’s not whiskey anymore.

“Hey, Firecracker,” he says, the rough timbre of his greeting wrapping me like a sexy hug.

“Hey you,” I reply, surprised when he loops his arm around my waist and bends to kiss me. It’s not short, it’s not on the cheek and it isn’t subtle.

Our mouths open as his fingers dig into my back possessively, his moans filling my mouth. After a moment we pull apart, and he peers over to Deuce’s, the lights on, blinds open. “I told him you were coming over, just so he wouldn’t look out the window and find out.” He searches my eyes. “You cool with that?”

I shrug. Something about knowing that Trace told Deuce that I’m going to be at his place makes me feel… as corny as it sounds… special. “It’s fine.”

After slipping inside, Trace locks the door, just now noticing the black bag hanging from my shoulder. He points to the cans of paint lining the wall near his boots, the stack of blue tape and tarps, and the bucket of new brushes. “I have everything… I mean, unless that’s, like, your overnight bag or something,” he says, dipping down to kiss me, holding my face by the chin as he does.

I lick my lip when the kiss breaks, and smile. “Oh no, it’s not an overnight bag.”

He moves to the kitchen, pulling two glasses from the cupboard. “I got glasses delivered while at work today. And a bunch of other house shit too.” He wiggles the glass for me to see before filling it with water. “So what’s in the bag?”

I smile, my heart racing. “The dick you’re gonna suck for me.”

Water sprays across the empty counter, in my glass, all over his wallet and keys. “The fuck?”

I drop the bag to the floor and cross the room, raising my hand to sift my fingers through his soft hair, dragging the heel of my palm along his cheek and chin. “I think you heard me.”

He blinks. He keeps his eyes on me as he tries another cautious sip of water. “Ivy,” he says, and it’s clear he isn’t sure what to say. Despite the nervous flutter in my belly, I stand strong. Because I do think this is what he needs.

“Trace.”

“Ivy,” he tries again, stretching my name out like a piece of taffy.

“Will you excuse me? I need to get changed,” I smile at him, snatching the bag from the floor before stopping next to the cans of paint. “Don’t worry, we’ll paint. After.”

“That after sounds ominous,” he says as I smile at him over my shoulder on my way down the hall.

“Don’t get scared. Get naked.”

With my heart racing, I close the hall bathroom door and flick on the light. There’s nothing in this bathroom, which is unsurprising since I know he just moved in and only uses the one in his room. I plop my bag on the counter, over the sink, and a thrill runs down my spine at the sound of the metal zipper peeling apart as I open it.

Inside is everything for a perfect night.

Quickly, I kick off my boots, shimmy out of my leggings and peel off my t-shirt, then slowly pull the elastic bands from the ends of my braids. Reaching into the bag, my fingers find lace and elastic, and a burst of excitement lightens the tightness in my chest.

Pulling on the lace teddy and garters first, I grab the strap and harness next. It’s the same one we used before, only now it’s going to go in him, not me. For a moment, I take in my reflection, loving the wild waves of my dark hair and how they contrast the red lingerie. The strap-on is black, the harness, too, and as I spin and check my silhouette, I realize my boots would look so hot with this.

I put them back on, take a deep breath, and pull open the bathroom door. I’m surprised to find a completely nude Trace standing right where I left him, a puddle of clothing at his feet.

I keep my fist wrapped tightly around the dildo as I stroll out, chin down, eyes locked on him and that fat cock of his. God he’s sexy. A man with piercings and ink is obviously hot, but add in a big dick and a willingness to change? Impregnate me now.

“Fuck, Ivy, you look so hot,” he groans, pulling at the back of his neck as his eyes skate up and down my body, over and over. “You are hands down the hottest woman I’ve ever met. The lingerie and boots…” he trails off, shaking his head.

I know he means every word he says. Because he’s naked.

And his cock is fattening up, turning pink and greedy, rising to the occasion. My stomach flutters at the sight, and it gives me the confidence to keep on going.

“Thank you.” I smile, my pulse beating wildly in my throat, my nipples piercing the delicate filigree of the lingerie. “Want to play with me?”

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