Page 9 of Chips & Checks
“Anything off-limits besides what’s already been mentioned?” he murmurs.
I shake my head. “Not that I can think of.”
“Damn.” His voice goes dark and reverent. “You just made my night.”
He chuckles. “So, for an itinerary. I’d like to make you come with my fingers and tongue. Then I’d like you on top. As tempting as it is to fuck you into the mattress, Vi, you’re petite. I’d like you to be able to set the pace. And when it comes to a woman as stunning as you are, I like the view of her above me.”
I let out a shuddering breath. “I’d like that, too.”
Then, maybe because I’m nervous, maybe because I’m an over-sharer, I blurt, “But just so we’re clear, no blowjobs. I have… this thing.”
Murph’s brows lift slightly, amused. “A thing?”
“A traumatic memory, actually.” I gulp. “I… I… know a girl who broke her jaw on a guy’s dick. Two months of drinking slop out of a straw. I’ve been scarred ever since.”
He stares at me. Blinks. Then snorts. “Vi, that might be the hottest rejection I’ve ever received.”
“I’m serious! It cracked. Audibly.”
He grins, slow and fond, like I’ve just made his week. “Noted. No dick near your jaw. Got it.”
He leans in close, mouth brushing the shell of my ear.
“Good thing I’m not here to take—I’m here to ruin you with my mouth, not ask for favors.”
Then he bites, and I shatter.
I stand up and pull my dress over my head. Thank God I wore my cute underwear tonight, because Murph devours me with his eyes. I’m sometimes annoyed by my height, mostly for practical reasons—it would be really nice if I didn’t have to have a stepstool in every room of my condo—but in general, I feel good about my body. I inherited my mom’s ample tits and ass. So it’s not perfect, but in my field, you learn fast that perfection doesn’t exist.
Murph’s eyes travel up my sturdy thighs, over the slight curve of my stomach, to the muchgreatercurves of my cleavage, and then to my face. He breaks into a grin when he realizes I’m watching him watch me.
“You’re beautiful, Vi,” he says.
I grin. “You’ve got good taste.”
Then I toss my dress onto the armchair. “Let’s see if I do too.”
Murph strips off his shirt and—
Oh. My. Lord.
Perfection isn’t real. But this man is an exception clause the universe carved out just for me.
His torso is all clean lines and carved muscle, the kind of definition that only comes from actual, brutal effort—not lighting, not filters, not Photoshop. His abs flex as he moves, stippled with just the right amount of dark, coarse hair trailing down the center in a path I desperately want to follow with my tongue.
My hand comes up, covering my mouth like I’ve just witnessed a miracle—or a crime. A beautiful, devastating crime.
Am I drooling? Honestly, I might be. My thighs squeeze together on instinct.
Murph smirks—he knows. Of course, he does. He’s used to admiration, but this is straight hunger. And still, it’s not enough. He kicks off his shoes, hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans, and—Jesus. He’s really going to do it.
He shimmies down his pants and boxers in one smooth motion, and I swear to God, my vision goes white. His cock is huge. Thick, gorgeous, perfectly proportioned—like his body knew it needed to keep up with the rest of the man.
And then I see it.
The piercing.
A gleaming barbell glints in the soft light, running just beneath the crown. My jaw unhinges.
