She’s baffled.
I’m beyond irritated.
“Slowly.” I plant myself behind her, pressing my cock against her narrow arse.
“Mmmm,” Fuyoung moans, back arching as she slips out of the sports bra.
Soon as it hits the floor, I rub my hand up her thin waist.
Lifting Fuyoung’s wrists, I reach around, guiding her hand into the front of the skintight waistband.
“Tell me how it feels,” I say, disconnecting myself from Fuyoung’s version of reality. She’s emitting sex. It’s mingling with my testosterone so well that Fuyoung has forgotten to fear me.
“I can feel your dick, Victor, as it plunges inside of me. In my mouth, in my?”
Snap. The sound is low and pristine in the quiet hotel room as Fuyoung and her once graceful neck hits the floor.
18
LUXURY
Despite the chilly evening, the pub is packed. Music switches up every time someone has enough change, which is often. Sometime later, as country fazed into rap, then rock, and now pop, we’ve finally finagled a pool table.
I’d finally agreed to Aliyah’s begging for a double date. I could do this.
I’ve ordered myselftwobaskets of hot wings, which caused Stan to tug at the collar of his polo nervously. He mustn’t have seen the half-price promo. I’m about to tell him not to worry about paying for my food when he says, “Want one of those colorful drinks?”
Oh, so you’re good with me being drunk and hungry?
Smiling, I pretend to be one of those health nuts stuck on calories. “No, thanks. I’ll save my calories for more wings.” I pat my stomach.Besides, a couple of margaritas won’t unleash the inner slut in me.
Tommy and Aliyah dig into the different pockets, searching for the missing billiards. I grab enough cues for us all. Stan makes himself useful by tossing back his beer then pulling out a quarter to call who gets first dibs. In the end, Aliyah sends a rainbow in every direction.
“Ladies together this round?” Tommy asks.
Lips pursed, Aliyah replies, “My honey and I made a side bet.” She loops an arm around me, whispering the last part. “Go easy. I don’t mind losing.”
I widen my stance, using the cue as a pointer, visualizing the trajectory and all that good stuff.
“Luxury, let me show you how to hold that.”
I’m not granted a second of protest as Stan saddles up behind me. His hard-on smacks against my ass.
I let out a tiny gasp, shoulders lurching.
“I got this.” I shift to the side, and his arm wraps around me.
“You sure?” His breath singes my cheek.
“Very.” I yank the pool stick from him, giving it a swift shove that lands the solid red ball in the middle-left pocket.
Twenty minutes in, Aliyah and I are beating the guys. Mostly it’s me doing all the work because she’s superglued to Tommy. At each point we gain over the boys, Stan frowns.
He starts flirting with a drunken trio out for girls’ night.
I don’t even concern myself when Stan’s sloppy-ass hands poke one and prod the other as he teaches the women how to strike.
“Aliyah, your turn,” I tell her while sipping on a Shirley Temple.