Page 27 of Blackout

Narrowing my eyes, I watch Lacey, jerk my cock into her mouth and bring the phone back to my ear.

“What?” I grind out, closing my eyes as she rolls her tongue.

“Church after dinner,” he grunts. “Reina’s cooking. Be here by four and then we’ll roll out of here.”

“Yeah, okay,” I reply. “Four o’clock.”

“Black.”

“What is it, Jack?”

“If you want to keep your teeth in your mouth, don’t answer the call when you’re in bed with my fucking daughter, yeah?”

“Maybe you should stop calling when I’m in bed with your daughter.”

“And how am I supposed to know when you—why are we having this fucking conversation?”

Lacey releases my cock and slides up my body. My eyes narrow as she wraps one hand around my shaft and starts to pump.

“Beats me, but if you’re finished talking, I’d like to get back to—”

My words get cut off when my wife knocks the phone out of my hand.

“What’re you doing?”

“Fuck me,” she whispers.

“Christ, girl, you haven’t had your fill?”

“You complaining?”

“Fuck no,” I answer, as she straddles my legs. She’ll never catch me complaining. She can ride my dick until it’s raw and I’ll still fuck her. Lifting my hips, I slide into her and roll her onto her back. I drape one leg over my shoulder and start to move. Fifteen minutes later we’re both on our backs, trying to catch our breaths.

“I think I’m hungry,” she says. “Do you think Door Dash will deliver to our bedroom?”

I glance over at the clock on the nightstand.

“No, but we need to get up. While your lips were wrapped around my dick, your father called to summon us to dinner. We got an hour to get dressed and drag our asses over there.” Pushing myself up, I throw my legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll take a shower first that way you can go grab a yogurt or something. I’m sure Reina’s been cooking up a feast.”

She sits up and drags the sheet to her chest. Combing her fingers through her wild hair, she cocks her head to the side and studies me for a minute.

“We don’t have to go, Blackie. We don’t have to run just because he called.”

She’s wrong.

My job is to run when Jack calls.

It’s the only thing I know how to do right.

“Babe—”

“Does he know about your relapse?” she questions, cutting me off.

“No,” I say, tearing my eyes away from her. Moving out of bed, I grab the pair of sweats I was wearing last night and slide them up my legs. “The only two people who know about that are you and Pipe.”

“Maybe you should tell him,” she suggests.

My gaze snaps back to her.

---