Fourteen

“Are you sure you’re not the one who likes being manhandled in bed?” I question, remembering the accusation he made the other night.

His nearly-black eyes twinkle in the light. “Not usually.”

“No?”

“I like how proper you are in public, but the moment we get behind closed doors, you have no problem turning the filthy on. It’s like being hit by a tornado…in my dick.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Am I?” he asks, now running the back of his fingers along my hard ridge. “Keri was right, you know. You look…like a fucking angel. Angels don’t go around commanding people to suck their dicks. It’s part of your charm.”

It’s my turn to arch an eyebrow. “Should I ask nicely? Is that more befitting of an angel?”

“Next time,” he says. “I’m down with you pushing me around for tonight.”

He hooks a thumb under my waistband and pulls my boxers down, finally setting my dick free. And free it does go, springing from its confines and stretching to its full length, hitting his face in the process.

“Did I just