8

“What the hell!” Ryan hissed as he tumbled onto the smelly, red-carpeted floor of my room. I dove out from the sheets in fear, eyes narrowing in the realization of what I'd just done.

Oh shit.

“Oh shit, that's right,” Ryan growled, standing up. I shrank underneath his stare, but then again who really was the eldest in the room? “What the hell did you do that for? You could've broken my waist.”

“I'm sorry...it was just... your fingers, three at once... it's too much, you were basically splitting me in half!”

“Well, newsflash: my dick is more effective than my three fingers combined so you bloody better get used to it 'cause I'm not leaving this room without fucking you. I would've done it slow and sweet but you kept me waiting. The consequences? Rough and mean. Get on that bed right now with your head turned down and spread that booty like a whore. My whore.” he ordered, his signature smirk not at all matching the hardness of his eyes. “Now. Mr. Sam.”

“No,” I replied flatly, a sud