Page 23 of Rattlin' Bones
A tiny whine left her lips.
“I’m not done, Beautiful.” I turned her around, bending her over as her palms rested on the table. “Try to be quiet,” I ordered through a slight lull in the music, thrusting into her before she could reply.
I’d forgotten about our drinks and heard something fall, crashing to the floor right as the music started up again. I didn’t care; I was too driven by my need for Lacey.
She rocked back against my thighs, taking every brutal plunge of my cock as I felt her tremble. Fuck. I wanted to see her ass as I slammed into her from behind.
It wasn’t long, only a few deep snaps of my hips, before she came a second time. When I felt her clench around me, I lost control. My cock twitched inside her, and I shuddered as I filled her, knowing one night with Lacey would never be enough. I’d only gotten a taste.
I needed more. A hell of a lot more.
She didn’t move as I withdrew, tucking my cock back into my jeans and zipping up. I fixed my belt and reached for her, drawing her back onto my lap.
Lacey rested her head on my shoulder, and I smoothed her skirt around her hips to cover the ripped fishnet tights and her bottom. “I think you wore me out.”
I held her to me, ignoring the party as I heard people talking a short distance away.
“I think that couple in the corner is fucking.”
My lips twitched.Yeah, twice. I’m a lucky bastard.
“Did you see who it was?”
“No.”
“I saw a French Maid costume.”
“There’s a dozen of those here tonight.”
They moved on, too far for me to overhear the rest.
“Skel?”
“Yeah, Sweet Girl?”
“Is your real name Bran?”
Her question surprised me only because I had expected her to ask long before now. “Yep. My parents always called me Bran, but I was born Michael Brandon Myers.”
“Michael Myers?” She giggled. “Like the horror movies?”
“Yeah,” I snickered. “My father’s favorite villain. We used to watch the series every October and a marathon on Halloween. He’d play it loud as kids stopped to trick-or-treat at our front door.”
“That sounds fun.”
“It was. My pops said it was fate that he named me Michael. Couldn’t pass it up with the last name Myers.”
“Is he still alive?”
“He is.”
“I’m glad.”
I squeezed her, not needing to reply about how I felt, but I knew she understood. We both lost our mothers but formed close relationships with our fathers—a bond we shared.
“You wanna get out of here?”
I didn’t see her move but felt her adjust on my lap, sitting up before she kissed me. “Yeah. Take me to your place.”