Book 4 - Page 71 (1/2)

I swallowed thickly, staring down at her slightly parted lips. They were s.h.i.+ny from her drink and from her habit of licking them often, and I was immediately reminded of the way they looked around my c.o.c.k the only time she’d done that, swollen and slick.

“I’d rather like to watch you suck something else entirely,” I admitted, feeling a heated flush run down my chest, adrenaline pumping to the tips of my fingers, adding, “Again.”

While she stared at me, I heard a woman’s voice mutter just behind her, “Right? I bet they have s.e.x every f.u.c.king day.”

Ruby’s eyes widened, a smile spreading over her face as she tilted her head slightly to listen.

“I bet she lives with his d.i.c.k inside her.”

Her brows shot up and I blinked away for just a moment to keep from laughing. Ruby was still grinning when I looked back. “Are they talking about us?” she mouthed.

I nodded. They were definitely talking about us.

She looked down the length of her body and then up to me, whispering. “Nope. Not inside me right now.”

I slid her hand down my stomach and over the shape of my c.o.c.k. “Not right now, no.”

But Lord, there were few things I wanted more just then.

The opening band filed out onto the stage and a portion of the crowd immediately began migrating away from the bar. Ruby grabbed my hand, downing half of her drink in a few swallows and motioning for me to do the same. As she watched, I finished it, set the gla.s.s down, and raised an eyebrow at her. With a tiny shake of her head, she tilted her drink back and downed it, wincing as she slammed the gla.s.s down on the bar.

When Ruby tugged my hand, I held her back from moving to the front, enjoying our time together too much to end it yet. “My condition on this evening is that you spend this opening set talking to me, back here.”

She tilted her head, smiling mysteriously up at me. “It’s funny that you don’t think you’re a flirt,” she said, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.

Signaling to the bartender that we would each like another drink, I asked her, “What do you mean?”

“ ‘Are you imagining how far I could work my tongue inside you,’ ” she quoted in a British accent, “ ‘or how many of my fingers would fit?’ ” Resting her chin on my chest and gazing up at me, she said, “That, my darling, is perhaps the flirtiest and filthiest thing anyone has ever said to me.”