Page 10 of Chips & Checks
My brain exits the chat.
There’s a prize at the bottom of the cereal box, and I just got the golden ticket.
He’s not just packing heat. He’s packing hardware.
I can’t look away. I don’t want to. I want to inspect it, touch it, ride it into the afterlife and send Ash a postcard from beyond.
Who pierces their dick? Who does that?
Murph, apparently.
And somehow that makes perfect sense. Because, of course, he did. Of course, this man would add a secret weapon to his already illegal-level sex appeal.
My mouth moves before my brain can catch up. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I nearly black out.
“Breathe, Vi,” Murph says. He sounds cocky, but damn, it’s easy to see why. I let out a low moan when he palms himself. I’ve never been with a guy that big before. No wonder he wants me to set the pace.
I’m petite. Everywhere. And it’s been almost two years for me. As I force a swallow, my pulse throbs. I’m not sure he’s going to make it past a few inches.
“Come here.” Murph sits back, and I stumble over to him. He pulls me up into his lap, so that the crotch of my panties is pressed against his thick erection, then I fall forward naturally as he kisses me hard.
I melt into him. It’s so easy to lose myself in the heat of his mouth, the seeking twitch of his tongue, and the warmth of his big, calloused hand pressed against my lower back. I grind against him and revel in the way his body responds to me.
I don’t know how long we kiss like that, but I’m startled when Murph twists, flipping me onto the bed.
“I thought you… wanted me… on top,” I pant.
Murph nuzzles my neck. “Not yet.”
His hands explore me like he’s memorizing, not conquering. He lingers—over the swell of my breasts, the curve of my belly, the little dip above my hip like he’s paying reverence to places no one’s ever stopped to admire. I melt beneath his touch, undone by the way he seems to see me even in the dark.
By the time his fingers slip beneath the edge of my panties, I’m already trembling, too full of want and wonder to do anything but whisper his name. He strokes me with maddening patience, coaxing me open like he’s waiting for permission I already gave a hundred times over. And when his fingersfinally ease inside me—slow, deep, like he means it—I feel it everywhere.
Not just in my body. In my bones.
My breath catches. My back arches. And then I shatter with a cry, clenching around him as the pleasure floods through me—hot and high and all-consuming. It steals my thoughts, my breath, my name, until I’m pulsing in his palm, raw and real and completely his.
I come apart in his arms, not broken, but claimed. Gathered. Like he knew exactly how to find every piece of me, even the ones I didn’t know were missing.
“Look at you,” he whispers against my nipple. He’s nudged my bra aside with only his mouth. No hands, no hesitation. Savage. Sexy. Brilliant. A fucking savant.
“Would you like to see what my mouth can do?”
“Um,” I manage, voice already shot. “Yes. Definitely. Yes.”
He pulls back with a dark, satisfied laugh and reaches for the nightstand.
“Wait—where are you going?” I reach for him, shameless and greedy now.
“I’ve got condoms, don’t worry.” He grabs one and sets it on the table. “I get tested regularly. Paperwork’s in my phone if you want proof. You’d be clean too, right?”
“I am,” I breathe. “I haven’t… I mean… we get tested regularly at my work.”
“Perfect.” Murph kisses the inside of my thigh like a reward. “Then I’m about to ruin you properly.”
His mouth finds me like it’s a religion, and he’s been devout his whole life. Every flick of his tongue is practiced and patient, like he’s reading my body in real-time and adjusting accordingly. When he slides two fingers inside me again, I nearly levitate.
