His Naughty Girls
The kind of scared you get when something you buried shows up wearing a leather jacket and smelling like cigarettes.
Then I saw him.
Fuck.
Tall. Inked hands. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He looked straight at me like he already knew I’d taste good.
My stomach clenched, but my pussy clenched harder.
Who in the fucking sex scene was this hottie?
“Liv, this is Zane,” Sabrina said, like she read my thoughts.
She didn’t look at me.
She was wearing shorts she hadn’t worn in a year — too tight, too high — and a top that looked like it belonged to me.