Page 17 of Rattlin' Bones
She seemed to consider it. “I wish I could, Skel. Or should I say Bran? But I promised my dad. It’s not wise to piss him off when he’s stressed. Besides, I don’t want to add to his worry.”
Good point. My gaze swept over her outfit, and I was glad she couldn’t see my face. I didn’t doubt that the lust trying to fog my brain would have been obvious. Lacey dressed in a French Maid costume.
Every young man’s fantasy, including mine, with a curve-hugging dress, plunging neckline, a matching ribbon choker, and a headpiece. The skirt was too fucking short and the top too tight across her tits, pushing them together, or maybe that was just the type of bra she wore. I wanted to rip off the costume andfind out. She wore fishnet stockings and black heels. Her blonde hair had been pinned back from her face and cascaded over her slender shoulders.
What a fucking knockout.
“You’re wearing that?” I asked, trying to keep the grit and possessiveness from leaking through since I only wanted to shove her back inside and make her change. No one should be staring at her like she was a sweet treat to gobble up, including me. Fuck.
If any motherfucker tried to touch her tonight, I’d have to set them straight. With my fists, my boot up their ass, or whatever it took to send the message:Mine.
Well, shit. I didn’t plan on growing so overprotective or needing Lacey as intensely as I did. This was fucked.
“What’s wrong with my costume?” She spun in a circle, bouncing her tits in the process. They almost burst free from the top.
Fuckkkkkkk.
“Nothing,” I growled. “Let’s go. Ass on my bike. Now, Lacey.”
She bit her lip, accurately guessing my issue. Not that I hid it well when my cock swelled and pressed into my zipper. For fuck’s sake, I was growing hard just from staring at her like I was fifteen again and noticed a pretty girl in school.
“You okay, Skel?” She squeezed my bicep before she made a show of bending over to straddle my bike.
My hands clenched. I was almost panting, nearly salivating with the idea of fucking her right here, in front of the whole fucking City of Sin, and I didn’t give a fuck.
Any good intentions I had vanished after that. Before the night was over, I’d be buried deep in her pussy. She’d know what it was like to be with a man, and I was damn sure I’d ruin her for any other guy.
She would know the truth before I brought her home. Lacey was gonna be mine.
The ride to the Halloween party was the longest in fucking existence. A torment I would gladly repeat if my dick wasn’t throbbing with the idea of slipping a hand between her thighs and feeling the silky soft folds of her pussy. I bet she tasted sweet and tangy, forbidden and exotic.
“Skel? You keep growling,” Lacey pointed out as we idled at a red light.
“I’m good.”
She giggled. I wasn’t fucking good. I was about to explode.
By the time we arrived and parked, I was jacked up, horny as fuck, and far too tense to do more than let her lead me inside. The banquet hall had been decorated for the spooky season, and the dim lights helped calm me as they somewhat disguised Lacey’s assets. A fog machine pumped creepy waves of smoke into the massive room. Carved pumpkins were placed throughout, along with various Halloween decorations.
Whoever set this up didn’t hold back. Music from various horror movies trickled through speakers while flashing lights and purple bulbs added to the mysterious, haunting vibe. One section had been draped with spiderwebs and black cloth. Several tables loaded with treats like pretzels, chips, sandwiches, and popcorn provided snacks for anyone hungry beyond the need for sugar.
A woman dressed like the bride of Frankenstein served punch from an enormous claw-footed bowl. The vampire beside her ladled lemonade from a cauldron into plastic cups. I spotted the bar and steered Lacey toward the adult beverages.
“Thirsty?” I asked, ticking my chin toward one of the bartenders. Several worked the crowd and wore costumes: a werewolf, a Jedi, and a grim reaper.
Two guys were running around wearing inflatable dicks. I slid my arm around Lacey’s waist and hugged her against me.
She giggled. “Funny. Did you see one of them had white stuff on the tip?”
I did. “Yeah, Sweet Girl. What do you want to drink?”
“A Long Island iced tea.”
I ordered hers first and then two shots of whiskey and a beer. When I spotted the attention that she was receiving from other men, I knew I needed liquor to calm down and attempt to relax. Not that it would happen. I probably wouldn’t feel less keyed up until my cock was buried inside her.
I tossed back both shots after handing over her tea. Lifting my bottle, I steered her toward a table in the corner. If I could keep my hands on her, maybe I’d feel less volatile.
We sat, and I pulled her onto my lap, ignoring her gasp of surprise. She squirmed, and I stilled her hips, both hating and loving how her warm center pressed into my groin.