Page 86 of Tips and Trysts

“Where the fuck did he go?” Everett responds before scanning the dancefloor with his mouth in a firm line. “I just want to talk.”

I’m such a disappointment sometimes. I studied my ass off, worked for every dime to my name, and still, I turn to mush when the most composed guy I know reveals himself to be a possessive, protective motherfucker.

And another thing is now apparent to me: Not only is Everett possessive and protective; he’sjealous.

Oh, this is absolutely magical. I smirk before I say, “He’s on his knees, eating my pussy.”

“This pussy?” Everett replies before his hand slips underneath the hem of my dress. He nudges my thong to the side and slides a finger into me.

Practically nuzzling me, Everett buries his nose into my hair and whispers, “If you’re about to tell me this pussy isn’t satisfied, we’re going to have problems. Do I not give your pussy what it needs?”

I groan when he wiggles his finger, burying it even deeper. “We’re on adancefloor.”

Everett’s response is to add a second finger. “Tighten up for me,” he urges, speaking close to my ear so he’s audible over the pounding of the music. “Yeah, like that. Squeeze the fuck out of my fingers. Good. Now, answer me. Is this pussy getting what it needs?”

I don’t respond. I glance to the side at Valeria and Essie, who are still dancing together but clearly watching Everett and me—andbeaming.

“Don’t be shy,” he goes on, kissing my temple on the same spot the tattooed guy did earlier. “My filthy little whore. No inhibitions, no hang ups. I bet you’ve played in public before—that you like the thought of a live audience. Does this pussy need to get fucked tonight?”

Everett’s tongue slides against that same point on my temple. When he pulls back, he’s grinning, wearing an expression that screamsI licked it so it’s mine. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of my pussy and glides them upwards, tracing the crevice between my ass cheeks until he comes to an abrupt stop. His brow pinches. “What the hell is this?” His fingertips flick against it, making me gasp. “You wore a butt plug to the club?”

I sure fucking did. “Maybe my pussy isn’t the thing you’re not satisfying,” I taunt. “Do you have any clue how much this ass makes me? And you ignore it? Arrogant. Oh well. Guess I have to find someone who won’t waste a perfect ass.”

Everett perks up at the sound of a challenge. He raises his hand and places his fingers on my chin, tipping my face up. “Who did you wear this for?”

I know the real question he’s asking: if I knew he would chase me tonight.

I did. I wanted him to. Still, my response is a vague, “Who knows,” and a coquettish smile.

Everett’s eyebrow rises. His expression brightens with intrigue, and he fixes a hand on the nape of my neck before he whispers, “Alley. Now.”

***

Outside, the air is brisk but heavy. It’s always like this in April: thick with the threat of rain and mild with the rise of summer. The sensation is unique to DC, a swollen, all-consuming aura that fades around the time the cherry blossoms fall. I’ve always liked this time of year, mostly for its brevity. In the three years I’ve lived here, I’ve amassed an infinite list of ephemeral but effervescent memories tied up with the mood of the District. This short transition from spring to summer is my favorite.

But the sheen in Everett Logan’s eyes as he takes my hand and helps me down the back step into the alley is far from ephemeral. Whatever is about to happen will be opaque, unprecedented—andmagnificent.

The alley is drippy and dark, wide enough for trash collection, but not wide enough for parking. There’s a pair of dumpsters at the mouth closest to the sidewalk, and the opposite end stretches behind the row of businesses that share the alley. It’s quiet.

As soon as the metal door to the back entrance closes, Everett shoves me against the club’s brick wall. My shoulders collide with the unforgiving stone, but his hand on the small of my back protects me from any real impact. His other hand cups my jaw, squeezing it until it aches.

“Look at me,” he orders. His stare is convincingly dangerous. “Should I be mad at you?”

“Probably,” I dare to retort. “I’ve ruined you for all other women and I haven’t even decided if I like you yet.”

Eyebrow raised, he gets in my face and his hand lowers to cup my ass cheek. “You were going to let someone else have this ass?” He grips me. “Two days after I filled your pussy with my cum, you were going to let someone else shove their cock in you? Are you that much of a slut, princess?”

The disbelief behind his words sounds real—and I love it. My arms rise and wrap around his neck, pulling him toward me. I initiate a kiss. Open-mouthed. Filthy. Then I say against his lips, “If you wanted it, you should have taken it—fuck.”

I throw my head back as Everett tugs on the plug, testing just how tight everything is.

“We fucked for the first timetwo days ago,” he reminds me before looking down at my squirming body. “But god, it’s hot how fast you move.”

Before I can respond, Everett shoves down the top of my dress, exposing my breasts. He darts down immediately and wraps his lips around my left nipple while still pulling on the plug—and we’re in analleyway.

“Would you have let him fuck it?” Everett goes on, speaking against my breast. He switches to the other and sucks deeply before saying, “Would you have let another cock inside you even after having mine?”

I don’t answer him. I just fix my hands on his shoulders and urge him on, tacitly telling him to keep working the plug, to keep sucking on my tits.

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