Page 25 of Dealing Dirty
Starting slow, I glide my hand up and over my sensitive head before moving down toward the base in one even stroke.
Fuck.It feels too good already.
I’d laid Juliana down on the bed that night in Vegas, and like a good girl, she’d spread herself open for me. I was riding a high I’d never known. Every look, touch, and whisper had me fighting for control. And then, she’d passed smooth out.
Her sweet red lips were parted as little snores escaped, and even now, laughter warms my chest at the memory. She looked so damn cute. I’d covered her in my T-shirt, fixed her long hair so that it wasn’t pulling, and then I did the stupidest thing I could have ever done.
I rolled her sleepy, drunken form into the crook of my shoulder, kissed the top of her head, and held her all night.
Though I never got the chance to see, I know what was hiding beneath that thin scrap of cloth was one of the prettiest things I’ll ever lay eyes on—pink, wet, and waiting for me.
My hand moves on its own, pumping and twisting just slightly, keeping a steady rhythm. I imagine spreading her legs wide the way I wanted to that night and fulfilling my fantasy of tasting her.
Her sweet, tangy arousal settles over my tastebuds as if she’s really here, and her tropical scent has my eyes rolling back as I moan and grip myself harder, moving a little bit faster.
Juliana encourages me with filthy words falling from her scarlet lips, raising her hips to meet me as I follow her commands. Little gasps and moans are music to my ears, and she digs her heels into my shoulder blades, gripping my hair so tight her nails scratch my scalp.
I bite my lip to keep quiet. The last fucking thing I need is my little sister walking in and seeing me jerking off like a horny teen.
My toes curl as pressure builds at the base of my shaft, tingling and exciting me further. I curl my thumb over the tip with each quick pump. When the Juliana of my dreams begs for my release, I wait until she receives hers before I shatter.
“Ugh.” I can’t help the moan that leaves my lips. The sheer pleasure. It’s too good.
I keep pumping until I’m utterly spent and sweat breaks out across my brow. I gradually fall back to reality, not caring a single bit about the mess I’ve just made.
Too bad reality consists of an ice-cold bed and a bottle of oil for company.
Slapping one arm against the covers beside me, I throw the other across my face. Juliana blows me a kiss before disappearing back to the recesses of my mind.
That’s the problem with my fantasies; they’re all too fucking real. I know it’s only a matter of time before I lose myself to this wild woman completely.
Chapter Eight
Juliana
As predicted, my brother has hunted me down.
I’m adjusting my bra while holding my cell phone to my ear as he carries on about how much he’s missed me, then he proceeds to guilt trip me about not seeing my parents over the last few weeks.
Oscar meows happily while I pour some kibble into his bowl, then I scratch his soft, little ears. He immediately starts to dig in.
I try to seeMamáat least once a week, but working at The Pound has made it difficult. The late-night hours keep me sleeping well into the afternoon. Plus, it’s not like I can tell them what’s been going on.
“Oh, by the way, my ex-boss who, it turns out, is actually a money-hungry kingpin, is threatening to steal yet another job from me and Cassidy, and he’s not going to stop until he has every single one of us at his mercy.”
I snort at my hypothetical conversation with my mother.
“Que?” My brother’s voice snaps me back to reality.
With the uncertainty of things, I was hoping I could hide from him a bit longer, but Adrián is, of course, having none of that. For the last two weeks he’s been in town, he’s been begging me to come byMamá’shouse, and I’m fresh out of excuses.
“Okay, okay,” I say, pulling my phone away to check the time. “I’ll grab some things from the market and come by this evening. We can makeposoleand get all caught up. Alright? I love you, bye.” I slide my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and slip a cashmere sweater over my head.
It takes a while for Texas to start cooling off—sometimes there’s not even a touch of chill in the air until the end of November—but as October comes to an end, the temperature has already begun to drop.
My Firebird idles in the farmers’ market parking lot on the edge of town. Bright orange pumpkins are scattered all about, and children swarm the clusters to pick the perfect gourd to carve for Halloween.
Beside the market is the same fair I’ve visited nearly every year since I was a little girl. Nostalgia presses in as a family passes my car, the kids racing toward the entrance. From where I’m parked, I can see the Ferris wheel whirling around in a wide, slow circle. String lights zip across the entrance, and only the very tops of the familiar red-and-white-striped pattern of the carnival game tents are visible.
