Page 93 of Loving the Legend
“I look hot?” He scoffs. “What are you wearing?” He wets his bottom lip as he scans my body.
I traded in my skinny jeans and T-shirt for a sleeveless knit slate gray Chanel vest, a pair of Gucci pleated slacks, and Duke + Dexter loafers. A muted version of the white gold chain that Sid is rocking hangs from my neck.
“Like it?” I ask.
He hums. “You’re gonna see how much I like it.”
I grin. “I thought you were feeding me first.”
He arches an eyebrow. “I never said I was feeding you food.”
Fuck.“Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll come all over the leather,” I warn.
He flashes me a filthy grin. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Mmm.” I recall all the hot sex we’ve had in his cars. A bolt of heat courses up my spine. Between the fire fanning between us and the vodka coursing through my system, a reckless abandon hums through my veins. All night, I’ve longed to be near him. I lean my head back on the headrest and unzip my pants. I close my eyes, reach inside of my fly, pull out my hardening dick, and start stroking myself. I pause and reach into the center console for the lube.
Without taking his eyes off the road, he reaches over and thumbs my slit, drawing out a moan. I try to fuck up into his hand.
“Don’t come.” He sucks his thumb into his mouth. “That load is mine.”
I whimper as he releases my dick, and I slowly stroke myself until I reach the edge. Then I pull off, preferring to come down his throat.
My eyes narrow when the car pulls into a marina. A stunning mix of yachts and superyachts bob against the glinting water. “Where are we?” I ask, tucking myself away.
Sid grins and commands the car’s virtual assistant to dial Justin. He rubs the back of my neck.
“Yo,” Justin answers.
“Yo! I’mma fall back tonight. I just got hit up by a baddie who’s in town.” Sid winks at me.
“Fuckin’ stud. I thought you said you were done dating…focusing on your game and shit. Which one is it this time? That Atlanta hottie from last year, the Brazilian, the triplets—”
I quirk an eyebrow at Sid. I could never bring myself to ask for his body count, but damn, I wonder.
“Or the French shawty with the crazy rac—”
“Ay!” Sid cuts in, grimacing. “That’s all in the past. You don’t know ’em.”
“You owe me a hundred bills. Didn’t I call it? Dating hiatus, my ass. She better be smokin’ if you’re skipping Ivy’s.”
Sid stares at me. “I’m in love with this one, man. Ain’t nothin’ for me at Ivy’s.”
Justin cackles. “You in love…good one. Pretty Boy still comin’ thru?”
“Nah, he’s lit,” he says, massaging his favorite spot on my neck. “Gonna sleep it off.”
“Aight. I’ll let his boys know. Peace. Don’t forget to strap and flush that shit after.”
Sid shakes his head. “Peace.”
“Triplets? French shawty? Who am I? Brooklyn Baddie?” I chide as soon as the line goes dead.
He grimaces. “You gonna skip the part where I said I’m off the market and in love?”
“I don’t recall that at all,” I lie, unbuckling my seatbelt and staring out the window. “What are we doing here?”
“C’mon,” he says, sliding out of the car.
