Pass
Interference
christina c jones
warm hues creative
Copyright © 2018 Christina C. Jones
Cover art by Christina Jones,
Images courtesy of istockphoto
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real locations, people, or events is coincidental and unintentional.
the savior, the family, the friends,
the betas, the readers.
without y’all, where would i be?
One.
She had a thing for making me wait.
And damn if I didn’t just go along with it, every single time, because as certain as I was of who the fuck I was… it was, unquestionably, a privilege for me to be there. If we were talking about identity, shit… I knew who she was when I was in the early stages of getting to know my damn self. Had spent ample time getting to know myself with images of her in my mind.
Sloane Brooks.
Baddest woman alive, and the competition wasn’t even close.
Hell.
There was no competition.
Just her, in a category all by herself, which was why I was on her doorstep at one in the morning. I knew she was up, knew she was home, knew she was probably just on the other side of the door, waiting for whatever arbitrary length of time she’d chosen to punish me with this time to pass. She claimed the frustration made the sex better, and I claimed I wasn’t doing this shit anymore, not even one more time.
My claim was a lie.
“What do you want?” she snapped when she – finally – opened the door. I’d expected the glass of wine she had in her hand, but her attire… that was a pleasant surprise that helped make the wait worth it. The sheer, floor-length robe wasn’t concealing a damn thing – blackberry hued areolas peaked with hard nipples were right at eye level for me, practically begging to be tasted.
The height differential dragged my gaze lower – her feet were clad in the spiked Louboutins she’d found on her doorstep a few weeks back – a birthday gift from a not-so-secret admirer. Those heels raised her at least five inches off the ground, and I hadn’t yet taken the two last two steps up to her doorway.
Now that the door was open, I did, pulling my gaze up to meet her eyes.
“My pussy,” I told her, fighting the urge to grin as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.
With the front door still open, and her eyes locked on mine, she unbelted her robe with one hand, using the other to keep her wine glass level. She lifted the glass to her mouth for a sip as she propped a hand at her side, keeping half of the robe tucked behind her.
“Your pussy, huh?”
With one hand at the base of her neck, I kept her where I wanted as my mouth descended onto hers, savoring the sweetness of wine on her lips and tongue. I pulled her in further – licking and exploring as my fingers crept upward, to the base of the silky, colorfully printed scarf she wore to protect her hair, and then underneath. Instead of scolding, or complaints, my fingertips against her scalp provoked deeper moans, even when I dug into her carefully fashioned twists.
I pulled back from the kiss, just enough to smirk against her lips.
“Yeah. My pussy.”
Her throaty, sexy giggle only made my dick press harder into her stomach before she backed away from me, turning to saunter down the hall, offering me yet another view to admire. “Where have you been?” she tossed over her shoulder as I stepped fully inside, closing and locking her door behind me. “You taste like you’ve been drinking.”
“So do you.”
She turned back to me, glancing at the wine glass in her hand before she rolled her eyes. “Are you going to answer the question?”
“Arch and Point.”
A little smirk came to her face, and she shifted positions, placing a hand on her hip again. “Oh. So that’s what this is? You go to the strip club for the show, then drop by here to get what they won’t give you?”
“I can’t believe you managed to say that with a – mostly – straight face,” I countered. Arch and Point was a high-end club, with high-end talent. But with that face, and that body, nobody was fucking with Sloane and she knew it.
I knew it.
Everybody knew it.
“Just speaking the truth – took a trip to the titty bar for you to finally come see me, after neglecting me for weeks.”
I chuckled as I ambled toward her, grabbing the silken belt of her robe to pull her toward me. “You just say anything, huh?” I asked. The truth was that I’d been trying to pin her down since her birthday, wondering if the gift had been too much, had been the thing that scared her off from whatever we had going.
Her response to tonight’s text had been a pleasant surprise that I hadn’t taken for granted, leaving an unofficial team gathering to come straight here before she changed her mind.
“You saying I’m wrong?”
“I’m saying that I’ve been trying to get next to you.”
“And I’m saying that you haven’t.”
I frowned. “So tonight is the first night I’ve reached out?”
“I didn’t say that,” she smirked.
“So what are you saying?”
“That tonight is the night you said something worth responding to.”
Damn.
Okay.
Quickly, I thought back on the things I’d said in an attempt to broach communication with her over the last weeks. Questions about her life, politics, pop culture, etc., all of which had gone ignored – a perceived slight that most men would have taken as an attack on their ego, and a reason to fall back.
Getting Sloane had been a challenge.
It went without saying that keeping her would be too.
Tonight though, there had been no real thought put into it, no deeper intellectual meaning. Just an intoxicated, impulsive one-liner, sent off after a fantastic lap dance from a beautiful, flexible woman, that hadn’t done a damn thing for me.
“I need to be inside you tonight.”
That was all the text said.
And after weeks of radio silence, I got a text back almost immediately.
“I guess you’d better get over here then. – S.”
Got it.
“I’m starting to think you only want me for one thing,” I told her, prompting a grin.
“And yet, you still have your clothes on.”
My hands went to her ass, gripping her through the sheer fabric of her robe as I pulled her against me. I grazed my lips over hers before I kissed her again, deeper this time, until I felt the telltale dip of her strength leaving her knees.
“Hold that thought,” I told her, smacking her ass before I walked away, letting memory lead me to her downstairs bathroom to relieve myself and wash my hands – both of which were necessary after a long night out, before I indulged myself with Sloane.
Heading back into the living room, I found her perched on the arm of the couch, finishing her wine as she stared into the fireplace, which had already been lit when I arrived. Unable to help myself, I stopped to take her in, as if I hadn’t already seen her in her full glory many times.
It was a view that never got old though.
Hooded eyes, full lips, high cheekbones, rounded nose. Velvety soft, deep brown skin. Toned arms, thick thighs. Ample breasts, flat stomach, wide hips, perfect ass.
A goddamn dream.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked, approaching whi
le she was still seated, stepping right in front of her.
She looked up, and drained the rest of her glass before she put it down. “While I was waiting? Work. Now that you’re back… I have every expectation that you’ll make me forget what that word means.”
I put a hand under her chin, tipping her face up toward mine as I bent to meet her, kissing her again. Her hands went to my shirt, deftly undoing the buttons and then pushing it down over my shoulders before I scooped my hands underneath her, bringing her with me as I sat down on the couch.
My mouth went to her breasts, not even bothering to open her robe before I started lavishing them with attention as her fingers dug into my shoulders. I looked up to find her looking at me, lips parted in pleasure as I tugged her nipple between my teeth, then sucked it to soothe the sting.
I didn’t want her looking though.
With my hands under her ass, I urged her up onto her knees, then hooked her thigh over my shoulder and the back of the couch. The movement was so quick, so fluid, that she barely had time to catch herself before I dove in, immersing myself in my favorite place.
Sloane’s Pussy.
My pussy.
She instantly went for the top of my head, the only place my hair was long enough for her grip. Her other hand went to the couch, digging into the fabric as she let out a loud exclamation of pleasure.
“God, Nate,” she whimpered as I covered her with my mouth, using my tongue to collect every drop of arousal I could reach, slurping her up. I pushed my fingers into her, making her buck into my face as I lapped her clit with my tongue in measured swipes. Breathing in deep, I inhaled her, pressing my nose into her folds as I savored her aroma, her taste, the tight feeling of her around my fingers, contracting and trying to pull them deeper.
Her breathing shifted, and so did her body, to shallow breaths and a more pronounced rocking of her hips into my face as she rode my fingers. I could feel the tension in her muscles, knew she was almost there, so I focused in – stroked her deeper, faster, sucked harder. This time when I looked up, her mouth was wide open, eyes shut tight, head thrown back.
That’s what I want to see.
When she came, it was with both hands gripped in my hair, damn near suffocating me as she kept my face buried between her legs. I had no complaints – I’d gladly drown between her thighs in an attempt to lick her clean, because that’s just how caught up I was, unashamedly.
But then she reminded me that there was more.
She carefully unhooked her leg from my shoulder, then lowered herself back to my lap to kiss me. While she was there, she easily undid my belt and slacks, freeing my dick with skill that was, in my experience, unmatched.
She stopped the kiss just long enough to look me right in the eyes while she spit into her hand, and then her hands went to work. Pumping my dick and caressing my balls while she lapped her tongue in my mouth, making me harder than what should have been legally possible. She stroked harder, faster, as her body slipped through my hands, sinking until she was down on the floor.
I was never fully prepared for the wonder of Sloane’s mouth.
A hiss escaped my throat as my dick hit the back of her throat, making her let out a hum of pleasure that vibrated through me, all the way to my damn toes. She gagged, just the tiniest bit, then immediately recovered, creating suction around my dick like she was trying to swallow me whole as she moved back up to the tip.
And then she did swallow me whole.
It went on like that, her making a perfect mess of saliva, and jacking me off, and treating my balls to the talents of her tongue and sucking me to the point of me snatching that goddamn scarf off so I could grip her hair while I stroked into her mouth.
And then she swallowed the natural result of that.
By the time she’d climbed back into my lap and sank onto my dick, nothing between us, I was already reassured of my status as a very lucky man. But the warmth and tightness of her pussy, the grip of her thighs, the skill in the roll of her hips… all of that was further confirmation that this was a damn privilege.
One I had zero intention of losing.
I frowned at my hair in the mirror, mentally calculating what I might be able to do to repair the damage done to it last night. I’d spent an hour carefully twisting it, with every intention of a perfect twist-out today.
There was nothing perfect about the tangled mess I was looking at now.
Totally worth it.
I glanced behind me, through the open bathroom door, to where Nate was still sprawled across my bed – deliciously nude, and here way past our agreed upon deadline.
This time though, I’d allow it.
I pulled my messy twists back into a bun, which was neat enough for what I needed to do. I was getting ready to dress in my running gear when Nate’s wide shoulders filled the door frame. He stepped into the bathroom, stretching his long limbs before he ambled to the toilet to relieve himself.
“You shouldn’t still be here when I get back,” I told him, once he’d flushed the toilet and moved to the sink to wash his hands.
“I know that, Ms. Brooks,” he said, arms crossed as he pressed his hip into the counter, watching me. “You have quite a knack for making sure I understand my place around here.”
“Nate…” I stopped, panties in hand, to catch his eyes. “We’ve talked about this.” I dropped the underwear back onto the counter, moving to press a hand to his bare chest. “You know you have a special place in my…”
His eyes narrowed. “In your what?” he asked. “Definitely not your heart.”
“No, but…” I smirked as I moved in closer, let my hand drift lower. “I’ll give you three guesses where else?”
I squealed with laughter, biting my lip as he turned me around, bending me over the counter. My laughter quickly shifted to a gasp as he plunged into me from behind in one deep, firm stroke. His hands came up, cupping my breasts as he stroked into me with precision.
“Shiiiit,” I moaned, my back arching as his fingers pinched and pulled at my nipples.
“One,” he grunted, forcing me into a more upright position. My heart was already racing, but started pumping faster as he dragged his hand upward, stopping at my neck to grip me by the throat as he fucked me harder. “Two.” His mouth went to my shoulder and he bit down, just enough to send a tingle of pain through me. He pressed his lips there, then urged me back down before he put his other hand between my legs, dipping his thumb into me for moisture. A moment later, his thumb was in my ass, pressing down as he kept his dick moving. “Three.”
Hell yes.
As lovers went, Nate was absolute perfection.
Fine as hell.
Big dick, and he knew how to use it.
He – mostly – wasn’t too needy.
And he worshipped me.
Too bad I have to let him go.
For now though, I was going to enjoy every single moment of him, and every single inch.
When we were finished, I dressed for my run and left my house still smelling like him. I had a full day, and the quickie had already cut into some of my time, so I decided that instead of my usual five miles, three would have to do.
Hopefully, that would put me back on track.
The scenery was part of why I’d chosen this neighborhood, and as usual, it didn’t disappoint. The hilly terrain gave me a decent workout, but it was cultivated – and populated – enough that I felt no need to be on high alert, which meant I could let my mind run free.
Today, that was necessary.
Life changing.
Groundbreaking.
Inspiring.
Those were just a few of the terms already being thrown around in reference to a job offer I hadn’t even received yet. Not that I wasn’t confident I’d get it, but one thing I wasn’t looking forward to was the circus that would come with it.
And I was not the type of woman to shy away from attention.
I relished it.
Usually.
&
nbsp; I wiped away a brow full of sweat as I powered through the loop that marked the halfway point of my run.
Maybe you should talk to Nate about the job…
Ha.
I dismissed that thought as soon as it popped, unbidden, into my head. There were plenty of things I could talk to him about, if I felt inclined. He was well-traveled, well-informed, and well-rounded enough that he could probably speak on any topic I brought up, but this topic was off-limits.
Which is why I’d been ignoring him.
Last night had been a moment of weakness.
As I approached my house, I frowned at the flashy black Mercedes G-class parked in my driveway. It wasn’t Nate’s car – he knew I meant it when I said it was time to go – but it still made my jaw tight to see it. As soon as I hit the door, I went searching for the owner and found him in my kitchen, in my refrigerator, like he owned the place.
“Garrett,” I snapped, and he looked up, with a mouthful of the strawberries I’d intended to go with my breakfast this morning.
“Good morning baby,” he said, backing out of my refrigerator with a grin. “You look… damn. You went running in that?”
I folded my arms, scowling as he made his way up to me with that goofy ass expression still on his face. “It’s a sports bra and running shorts. What’s the problem?”
“Nothing. Just wishing I could have seen it. That ass in these shorts? Ooh-wee,” he teased, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“Why are you touching me?”
His lips twisted to the side. “You doing me like that? It’s a cold world when a man can’t even get close to his wife.”
“Ex-wife,” I quickly corrected him, since he – somehow – loved to forget that part. “What are you doing in my house?”
He tightened his hold around me. “You know what I’m doing here. Heard you’ve been stressed, so I thought maybe you needed a little… relief. Thought I could help you out this morning.”
“Oh you did, did you?” I laughed, pushing away from him to grab a bottle of water for myself. “Thought you’d drop off a lil’ something?”
Pass Interference (Connecticut Kings Book 6) Page 1
