Playing (Inked Hearts 2)

"That means you've tested them," she teases.

"I know my dick better than you do, honey. Now, if you want to get to know it—"

"I know enough. You never stop talking about it. If I have to hear about how mind-blowing you think your Prince Albert is one more fucking time—"

"Sounds like you want to try it out."

She ignores him. Turns to me. "You were wearing that yesterday."

"We already established that he smells like pussy." Dean shakes his head. "I can't believe this shit. No details."

Leighton rolls your eyes. "You're like a child."

"You love it," he says.

She shakes her head. Turns to me. "A little detail? Please, Walker. You know I'm on a self-imposed dry spell."

Yeah. Something about how she's tired of making the wrong choices with men.

She looks at me with puppy dog eyes.

Her eye makeup is the same as Iris's was. That long line. Only hers is purple.

"I was at a party. She didn't want to be there. We went back to her place," I say.

Leighton nods go on.

"She sat on the bed. I rolled her jeans to her ankles. She was wearing this lace thong that curved over her soft hips. She made this hot as fuck gasping noise when I tugged her panties to her ankles."

"TOO MUCH DETAIL!" Leighton bites her lip. Desire spreads over her expression.

She asked.

I'm not about to skimp.

"She was so fucking eager. She started arching her back and letting out these needy sighs as I dragged my lips up her thigh. When I pinned her legs to the bed—fuck. She tasted good. And she was so fucking responsive. Like it had been ages since anyone licked her properly."

"Ugh." She bites her lip. "You're such a guy."

"Please, Leigh. Fifty bucks says your panties are drenched," Dean says.

"Yeah. But… Uh…" Her blush spreads to her chest. "How do you know she wasn't coming on some other guy's face the night before?"

"I know." All right, maybe she was with someone recently. But not someone who fucked her properly. Not with the way she groaned my name.

"You jelly 'cause you want my boy's tongue on your cunt?" Dean asks.

"Ew. You guys are like brothers. That's just… no." She shakes her head.

"You know Dean and I will take you out. Play wingman," I say.

She scoffs. "Yeah, that's gonna work. Two built, tattooed bodyguards scaring off every guy in a hundred-foot radius."

"You don't mean that." Dean feigns humility.

She cocks her hip. "You always start with your mouth?"

"Not usually." Fuck, I am stuck in a routine. The last dozen women, it's been the same thing.