Cast the Cards by Shyla Colt

of his voice touched her in
places long unattended. Clearing her throat, she attempted to refocus her
attention on anything other than the sexy man who sat across from her in a
white tank top and a pair of sweats. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t
keep her gaze from his tats.
    “Okay,
I have to ask. What do the tattoos mean?”
    “Aaah.
The million dollar question.”
    “Is
it a secret?” Intrigued, she sat up straight.
    “No,
just personal.” Red appeared in his cheeks. “It’s a memorial.”
    “That
makes perfect sense. Why are you embarrassed?”  She arched an eyebrow.
    “It’s
for the three of us… I sort of felt like we died with Clark.”   He placed his
hand on his arm. “The rose in the Rosary represents you.”
    “I’m
on your arm?” she whispered. Touched, she covered her mouth.
    “I
couldn’t do the piece without you. It didn’t feel right. When I first started
work on this I knew I wanted us all on a rosary, connected despite everything
that went down.”
    “Carey.”
Unable to find the right words, she shook her head.
    “See,
this is why I didn’t want to talk about it.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
    “What
have you been telling people all this time?”
    “That
it’s a memorial tat for my twin brother. They don’t ask for more detail after
that.”
    “Am
I the only one who knows?”
    “Yeah.”
His jaw was tensed. He refused to meet her gaze.  Setting her drink on the
table, she walked over to him and sank onto the arm of his chair. She traced
the rosary that faded into the background of the brightly-colored, old school
sailor designs that surrounded it. There were red stars, a red and blue swallow,
and a set of dice.
    “Thank
you,” she whispered.  
    He
tilted his head up. Their gazes locked.
    “Want
to hear something funny?”
    “Sure.”
He nodded, his voice equally soft.
    Stepping
back, she pulled up the hem of her tank top and lowered the top of her cutoff
shorts.  A delicate brown branch with three blossoms, black, red, and pink,
graced the curve of her hip.
    “For
us?”
    She
nodded. A slow smile erased the pinched, austere expression he’d held moments
earlier.  He extended a finger and traced over the pattern. She sucked in a
breath.  A searing heat spread through her body. Her pulse kicked into
overdrive and her muscles tensed. His finger crept lower, brushing the top of
her shorts. Holding her breath in anticipation of more, she watched him through
half closed lids.
    “Savannah?”
Raspy and uncertain, his question asked for permission.
    “Y-yes.”
The words were out before she could overthink them. His head dipped and his
tongue shot out and caressed the path his digit had traced.
    “Oh.” 
Her nipples hardened and her pussy grew moist. Years of neglect combined
together to overthrow her objections. Desire exploded inside her like a bomb,
superseding her common sense. Latching her fingers onto his shoulde,r she allowed
her head to fall back, enjoying the feel of his mouth. He nipped her skin,
moving across her waist. The stubble on his chin tickled where it grazed her
delicate skin. He paused at her belly button and dipped his tongue inside. Her
stomach muscles quivered, and her toes curled in her flip-flops.  He pulled back,
blowing on her wet skin.
    “Carey.”The
wobbly words made him look up.
    “Do
you want me to stop, Vannah?”
     “N-no.”
    Holding
her stare, he brought his hand up and cupped her pussy. She gasped.
    “Still
okay?”
    Unable
to speak, she nodded. He began a massage.
    “Oooh.”
In need of relief from the pounding rhythm of need emitting from her core she
spread her legs to allow him more room to play.
    “That’s
it, baby, open up for me.”  Her legs trembled. The rough material pressed into
her cleft. She rocked her hips against him. Needy mewls slipped from her mouth.
    “It
feels so good,” she moaned.
    “Are
you going to come for me, Vannah/”
    “Y-yes.”
    “Mmm.
I can feel the heat from your