“I’m not touching you.” His voice was breathy and went straight to my dick.
“Give me back my phone.”
“Not until you work out a schedule with me.”
I lashed out and grabbed his wrist, squeezing hard enough he let go of my phone with a weak whimper.
It bounced on the couch between us, and I snatched it up with my free hand.
“Get your hands off me,” he said in that breathy voice my dick loved.
“Or what?” I tossed my phone onto the coffee table, keeping my grip on his wrist.
“Or…”
“You gonna piss in my bed like you threatened last night?”
He swallowed, his brown eyes wide and bright.
“I promise that won’t end well for you if you ever try it.”
“I…”
“Hate me?” I tugged him closer, chuckling when he fell against my chest with a squeak. “I know.”
“Let-let me go…”
“You sure that’s what you want?”
“I…”
“Or maybe you want me to make you come again?”
I flipped us over so he was on his back, his legs hanging over the end of the loveseat. I straddled him.
“Ash.”
It hadn’t escaped me how he used my nickname when I messed with him.
Why did that turn me on so much?
That had never happened with anyone else. I’d been going by Ash since kindergarten. Only Jules had that effect on me, and fuck if I knew why.
I grabbed his other wrist and pinned both above his head.
“You like this,” I stated rather than asked.
His cheeks were flushed pink, his lips parted as he panted out little breaths.
His cock was hard and tenting the front of his shorts.
“Your dick doesn’t lie, Julian. You like it when I manhandle you. You like feeling me on top of you.”
“No.”
I leaned over him, pressing him into the loveseat with my full weight.
“You do.”