Taste of Lacey(4)By: Linden Hughes
At the possibility of him filling her with his hardness, she was no longer dazed or confused. She was hot as hell. Lacey Bishop, independent, logical black female, was about to fuck the white boy next door. She’d question her sanity later.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Although she was standing much taller than her normal five feet six in her high heels, he bent until his ear was close to her mouth.
“Yes, I’m going to invite you in,” she said, her voice firm.
“For what? I need the words, Lacey.”
“Ryder Jackson McKay, I want you to take me home so we can fuck until neither of us can walk.”
She strutted out of the building, check in hand.
* * * *
Rye helped her into his beloved Jeep Rubicon, and then they rode in silence until they came to a twenty-four-hour drugstore.
“I’ll be right back,” he muttered. Leaving the vehicle running, he locked the doors before walking inside with his long, sure stride.
She released her breath with the force of air from a popped balloon. Her hands were shaking, so she curled them into fists to keep them steady. Rye was going to get condoms so they could fuck responsibly. She almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the concept, only she didn’t because this was real. It was a good thing he had some sense; protection hadn’t once crossed her mind, which obviously was on vacation. She and Rye. Together. What the hell?
After witnessing many discarded females act a fool when Rye was ready to move on, Lacey should be running in the other direction. Instead, she was anxious to learn what the fuss was about. Rye’s goods had to be potent, because she felt like an addict after a sample. She could only imagine what shape she’d be in with a full dose.
It was almost midnight, so there were very few people milling around the well-lit chain store, and Lacey had no problem spotting him through the wall of windows. Well over six feet tall, he towered over the lone man in line. Whether it was his stealth or his confidence, Rye gave the impression of power. Of course she’d always been conscious of his physical appeal, but since she was now aware of his dick, his fineness was taking on new meaning.
Blond hair and blue eyes were a dime a dozen, but when combined with Rye’s strong jaw and chiseled lips, they were lethal. He’d ditched his jacket and tie, but in the crisp white shirt and black slacks, he was elegance walking. Lacey could also attest to his ability to look as good in a pair of threadbare jeans. An avid jogger and no stranger to a basketball court or the gym, he was long and muscular, strong without being bulky. Sexy as hell. So sexy it caused zero concern that she was about get down and dirty with someone outside her race.
Lacey tingled in anticipation. Seeking to satisfy a sexual itch for the hell of it was virgin territory to her, but she wanted the pleasure he offered if only for a few hours. She wasn’t a connoisseur of dicks like her cousin Monica, but she was positive Rye was packing some heat. He’d felt huge against her, contrary to stereotypes about white men and small penises.
Sensual pressure built between her thighs, and as she shifted to get some relief, Rye returned to the Jeep. Not saying a word, he unceremoniously dropped a box of extra-large condoms in her lap before pulling onto the highway. He hadn’t bothered with a bag.
“You still okay with this?” he asked, his gaze boring into her.
“I know what I’m doing. If you’re afraid I’m going to stalk you or something afterward, don’t worry. I’m horny, you’re horny, and we’re scratching an itch.”
Rye arched his thick eyebrows. “I had to check.”
“Look, we’re adults. If it helps, we can pretend we just met at a bar. When the sex is over, so are we. Like a one-night stand.”
“Yes. We fuck. No strings. No rings. Is that what you want to hear?” At this point she’d say anything to make him fulfill his promise. She could definitely handle not being able to walk for a while.
“As long as it’s not awkward between us later. I never thought I’d want you so bad my fucking head is spinning in circles.”
She looked straight into his eyes without flinching. “Did it feel awkward when you had your hand down my blouse?”