Page 67 of Chips & Checks
Her whole face turns the color of a ripe tomato. “I’m sure there are videos online.”
“Maybe. But I want to see you use it.”
And now that I’ve said it, I can’t stop the image from flooding my brain—Violet, completely bare, straddling that ridiculous contraption like she owns it. Her thighs spread wide,gripping the sides of the ball for balance, hips rolling slow and deep as that silicone cock sinks inside her. Her hair a mess, her cheeks flushed, her full tits bouncing with every grind forward. I can practically hear the sounds she’d make—those breathy little gasps that turn to whimpers when she’s close, the way she’d bite her lip trying to muffle the desperate moans I love more than I should. And the worst part? It wouldn’t even be about the toy. It’d be her. Watching her come apart for something that wasn’t me. I’d lose my goddamn mind.
And I want it. Right fucking now.
She sticks out her bottom lip in a pout. “And why would I do that?”
“Because of all the things I will do to you after you get me excited from you using that ball. And hockey players are horned up after games. It’s a proven fact. Especially games where they scored a sweet goal in front of their mom.”
She gulps and looks around. “Should we at least take this to the bedroom?”
“Nope.” I make myself comfortable in the armchair. “I’m good right here.”
Vi steps away from the couch with an innocence that’s so obviously fake it makes my cock twitch. “You want to see me use it?” she asks, voice all sugar and knives.
I nod, trying to play it cool. “You offered.”
“I didn’t,” she says, lifting her shirt over her head with agonizing slowness. “But maybe I will anyway.”
I freeze as she drops the shirt onto the back of the couch and peels off her bra like she’s got all the time in the world. Her nipples pebble in the air-conditioning, but her expression stays cool. Controlled. Not shy. Not even coy. Calculated. She’s playing a game, and I’ve never wanted to lose more.
She turns her back on me, slides her thumbs into the waistband of her sweats, and looks at me over her shoulder. “Still good with this?”
“I’ll die if you stop.”
She shimmies out of the pants one inch at a time, giving me a slow, merciless view of her ass—round, perfect, already gleaming between her thighs. When she’s fully naked, she bends to adjust the physio ball and straddles it like she’s mounting a throne, spreading her legs wide and pausing—just long enough to let me ache for it.
And then, with a moan that’s half performance and half honest-to-God need, she lowers herself onto the dildo.
I make a broken sound—because how could I not? She starts to roll her hips, lazy and fluid, like she’s got all night and knows I’ll sit here, bricked up and obedient, for every second of it. Her fingers drag up her sides, over her breasts, teasing her own nipples as she rides.
She catches me watching, hard, and lets out a breathy little laugh. “You like that?” she asks, her voice a decadent hum. “You like the way my tits bounce when I ride my little hobby horse?”
I groan, throat bone-dry. I can’t answer. Not with real words.
She pinches one nipple between her fingers, gasping at the contact, then does the same to the other. “Bet you want to suck on them, don’t you?” Her gaze sears into mine as she arches her back. “Wrap those talented lips around me and suck until I whimper?”
My fists clench tighter. My cock throbs. I’m hanging on by a thread.
Vi reaches between her legs and starts to touch herself where she’s split open on the dildo, dragging slow, teasing circles over her clit. “God, I’m soaked,” she pants. “You hear that, Bowen? I’m dripping all over my toy, and it’s not even moving like you do.”
I swallow a curse. I want to crawl across the room, yank her off that ball, and fuck her until she forgets her own name—but she’s not mine. Not yet.
Not until she says so.
Her fingers don’t stop moving. If anything, they get bolder—sliding faster, circling harder, her moans sharpening into something desperate.
Then she locks eyes with me.
“Take it out.”
I blink. “What?”
She licks her lips, slow and sensual. “Your gorgeous cock. I want to see it. Want to watch you stroke it for me.”
I don’t hesitate. I shove my sweats down and wrap a hand around my aching length, the metal of the barbell catching the dim light. Her breath catches at the sight.
