Page 19 of The Games We Play

A low grade hum.

I tilt my head, the sound is coming from ...

I grin.

If I’m not mistaken, my little chick is using a vibrator, and I need to see. Quietly, I ease myself up onto the roof via the windowsill. Her bedroom window is open just an inch, but the low-grade hum is a little louder up here. My palm itches to spank her ass for being so reckless with her safety, even though I know she left it open for me.

Any asshole could creep up here and watch her.

And I realise the irony as I peer through the gap she left in the curtains. PerhapsI’mthe asshole, but I actually care about her. There’s a small light on her bedside table casting the room in a warm glow.

She’s lying on her back, the covers tucked up near her chin. But her knees are bent, and she’s busy between her legs. I see the fabric move as she slides whatever sex toy she’s using the way she needs it.

Her mouth opens as her body tenses and undulates. I want to thrust my cock down her throat and watch tears spill over her lashes as she chokes and takes me.

My cock rises with my frustration at the idea she’s wasting an orgasm I already consider mine. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply through her nose then opens those plump lips again to sigh. Her hand is moving a little faster, I see her hips grind beneath the covers, and can’t wait to know what they’ll feel like when she’s riding my dick.

Will my hands span that tiny waist? Will she do as I tell her? Will she squeeze me so fucking tight that it’s a fight to fit inside and hold off my own orgasm?

Part of me wants to force the window open and go help her. Part of me considers releasing my cock and jerking one out on her roof. But there’s enough of a fucking man left in me to know both moves are desperate.

I like the way she’s chasing what she wants. I wish she’d flip the covers back so I can see more. Is she still wearing her panties? Are they damp? Is she naked? Will I see smooth bare skin or thick curls?

She turns her head and she’s staring straight at me. I bite down on my lip as my cock aches. Then she closes her eyes, let’s go.

And on a whisper, she breathes one word.

“Spark.”

And then she snaps off the light.

I place my palm on the window and suck in a breath.

It was everything to watch her, and yet nowhere near enough.

My phone rings, and I drop down off the roof before I answer it, my thoughts still racing over what I just saw. I answer it before I sit on the bike, adjusting my dick. “What’s up?” I say to King, my mind reeling.

“Need some cash dropped off at the port. Saint’s got the money. You good to go with him?”

I glance down at the time. It’s a little after eleven. “Yeah. I’m good.”

I make arrangements to meet Saint, and then we’re off. I love riding my bike; love it even more at night when the roads are blessedly quieter. Takes us an hour to get to the port.

I spend the whole time thinking about Iris. The thought of how large my palm print would be on her ass made it an uncomfortable ride for my cock. That was a pure brat move she just pulled. Or maybe it was her way of giving me ... something. I should spank the shit out of her for it. And yet watching her come was ... arousing. We pull to a stop in the parking lot across the street from the port, where we shift the bikes back into the shadows and wait, out of sight.

“What were you doing tonight?” Saint asks, his hands folded across his chest.

I shake my head. “Nothing much.” I hate lying, but King’s instructions were crystal clear. Hands off Iris. But tonight was worth every possible punishment. Because for a few blessed moments, I had her on my bike. I had those emerald eyes of hers on me while she came, and the world tilted in my favor.Fuck. “You?”

“Was doing Jessica when King hammered on the door and asked me to do this.”

I laugh, trying to shake off the need to turn around and go back to Iris, to show her exactly what she did to me. “For a holy man, you don’t know the meaning of the word abstinence.”

“A loving doe, a graceful deer. May her breasts satisfy you always. Proverbs 5:19. It’s as if God personally instructed me to worship those double Es of hers.”

I choke out a laugh as a black sedan pulls into the lot. “This him?” I ask, placing my palm on my gun. The feel of cold metal grounds me back in the here and now.

Saint shrugs. “Probably.”