DADDY'S NAUGHTY PET
But here I am, heart slamming, thighs already slick, writing this down because if I don’t get it out of my head I might combust.
Jaxon’s been mine for eight months—possessive in the quiet way that makes my knees weak, the kind of man who fucks like he’s claiming territory every single time. Rylan? His cousin. The one who’s been crashing on our couch all summer, walking around shirtless, smirking like he knows exactly what I look like when I come. I caught him watching me more than once—eyes dark, jaw tight—and pretended I didn’t notice how wet it made me.
Tonight the car died on a nowhere highway. One room. One bed. Half a bottle of tequila.