Page 41 of Jig's Last Dance
Turning my face, I close my eyes because caution may have stiffened my spine, but my core is pulsing wickedly. Is it his threat or his proximity? Maybe I’m more like my father than I thought.
“Sunshine,” Jig rumbles, and I shudder.
He pulls my chin back around and stares into my eyes before smiling. “Does that dick uncle of yours know you crave mine?”
For a moment, I stare at him dumbly before I slam my fist into his chest. He barely moves, but he does raise his brow.
With a snarl, I lean into him until my lips are pressed to his and say, “I was thinking about his dick.”
I don’t wait around for a response, sailing out the door. When I reach the pool, I shed my shorts before jumping into the water. Shrieks ring out around me, no doubt from the chicks who don’t want to get their hair wet.
Ignoring them, I emerge and swim to the deep end, where it’s nice and quiet. There’s a small seat on the side of the pool, and I pull myself up and lean against the side.
The cold water did nothing for my pulsing core, but it was refreshing anyway.
What the fuck am I going to do? I can’t hang around Jig. Despite his cruel antics, with every fucking devilish look he casts my way, I want him more. Which is fucked up but true.
I’m a hot mess, and he’s a dick. Fuck me.
And now I’ve implied that I’m sleeping with my uncle. For what? To get a rise out of Jig? This is madness.
“Wanna drink?”
Tipping my head back, I meet the cerulean depths of a pretty boy. He leans over me with a grin and dips his eyes to my tits. A small surge of triumph rockets through me because, yeah, they may be small, but they’re still fucking beautiful.
Shit. Now I’m being stupid.
“Sure,” I say because I’m stuck here, and I might as well enjoy myself.
He hands me a drink, and I eye it dubiously before grabbing the unopened bottle in his hand. If he thinks it’s weird, he doesn’t comment as he settles beside me in the pool.
“I’m Dexter.” He’s a pretty boy with twin dimples in his cheeks, long luscious eyelashes, and the palest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Well, except for John, but I’m not going there.
“Alice,” I say, popping open my beer and taking a long pull. The cool liquid feels good on my parched throat.
“Haven’t seen you before. Where you been hiding?”
“Around,” I say coyly, looking up at him through my lashes.
He smiles, his eyes bright, but before he can respond, a figure jumps over our heads and cannonballs into the pool.
I duck and get a mouth full of water for my efforts before Jig emerges from the waves with a grin, and I swallow my tongue. It’s truly unfair for him to be so damn hot.
His tattoos appear more sinister in the low light, the images rippling in the shadows. Droplets of water drip down his neck and over his sexy pecs before disappearing under the water, and I clench my legs together.
Is his skin salty? I want to run my tongue down that stretch until I meet his pecs and twirl it around the wicked loops through his nipples. Shit.
Looking away, I glare at my beer, now filled with pool water, no doubt.
“Hey sunshine, c’mere,” Jig says, and I raise my eyes to his.
His tone is playful, but I see the gleam in his eyes. What’s the fucker going to do now?
“Why?”
“I need my dick sucked.” He glances at Dexter with a raised brow, and Dexter grins uneasily before stepping from the pool.
“I’ll suck your dick,” some bitch says, and I swing my head around with a death glare.