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I tipped my head back, opening my mouth.

Michael poured a drab of his brown drink into my waiting mouth, and I swallowed it, careful to hide the pain of the burn as it coursed down my throat.

“Tell me more,” he urged, a challenge in his eyes.

I held his stare, diving in as I leaned against the wall, eyeing him. “I’d suck him off in the morning,” I told him, keeping my voice low and steady, “taking him down my throat and getting him so hard, so I could ride his dick before school.”

“Yeah?” Michael egged me on, a fire starting to burn in his eyes as he lifted the glass again. “Keep going.”

I leaned my head back again, opening my mouth for the sip.

Swallowing it, I continued, softening my voice, “He’d make me come so good,” I cooed. “His hands were all over my body, squeezing my tits as he bent me over the couch while your mother was in the next room.” I hooded my eyes, seeing his gaze drop to my mouth as I licked my lips. “He had to put his hand over my mouth when I came, because it was so fucking hot I couldn’t stop screaming.”

“Mmm…” He responded, tipping up the glass again to feed me more and then setting it down.

“And his dick is built for my ass,” I went on, curling the corner of my lips and playing with him. “When he slides it in, he owns me.”

“Is that right?” Michael asked lightly, thinning his eyelids and wrapping one arm around my waist, holding my face with the other. “Tell me more.” His breath fell across my lips. “I want to know everything my brother doesn’t do to you, you little liar.”

My chest shook with having him so close. I could almost taste his mouth. I parted my lips, feeling him hover, feeling him about to take his bite, and I fucking craved it.

Michael.

“After he comes,” he whispered, “and after he leaves you, leaves you wanting more and wanting everything you know only I can give you”—he snatched up my bottom lip between his teeth and let go—“is it my cock you think of when you slide those fingers in your pussy?”

I groaned, a rush of warmth hitting between my thighs, and my clit throbbed so hard, I had to be wet.

“Sometimes,” I admitted in a whisper, forcing myself to hold his eyes.

He cocked his head. “Sometimes?”

I nodded.

His glare hardened, and I knew he felt challenged.

My heart raced, beating faster and faster, and I didn’t know if my gamble was a huge mistake.

I only ever thought of him. Every fantasy, every orgasm…

Every time I was alone and touched myself, I only ever pictured him, his gorgeous eyes and body pinning me to a bed.

Or to a couch, a table, or the floor. It was always Michael.

But he had gotten my attention for far too long, and it was time for him to get jerked around. He wanted to play? I could play.

“Why did you lie to Jake?” he asked, suddenly changing the subject. “You watched the games in high school. You were at every one of my games.”

I tensed. “You knew that?”

I couldn’t believe he knew I attended every game. Even when he was in high school and I was still in junior high, I tagged along with Mrs. Crist, never missing a game until he went off to college.

“Why did you lie?”

I opened my mouth, searching for words. “I didn’t,” I finally forced out. “I said I never watched the games, and that was true. I just…” I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked back up at him, dropping my voice to a whisper. “I just watched you.”

He held my eyes, his expression hardening. His breathing sped up, and his rich scent flooded my head as I closed my eyes.

“Rika,” he whispered, sounding desperate as he grazed my bottom lip with the tip of his tongue.


Tags: Penelope Douglas Devil's Night Romance