Fucking Cheeky
Cohen
Hell. I’m screwed.
I tried to resist. I really did.
And if it had been anyone else standing in front of me, I would have managed.
But it’s Sloane Heart.
A tempting angel.
The center of all my wants and cravings.
The woman I’ve already proven—more than once—that I absolutely cannot fucking resist.
She told me to fuck her properly and stop acting like a puppy?
I’m not a damn puppy.
I’m Cohen Becker—certified asshole.
I shove her back against the shower tiles again. Yeah, I want her. Way too much. But this time it’s not just desire.
It’s because she asked.
She wants me.
Here.
Now.
And I know she’ll regret it—but I want to make damn sure she comes back for more.
My hand clamps down on her hips, hard. Her fingers slide back around my cock, her grip driving me insane. I push her soaked pants down just enough.
“Brace yourself, Angel,” I growl, my voice blending with the hot spray. “Something tells me next time you’ll be begging instead of being so fucking insolent.”
She laughs—actually laughs—with that smug expression I love, the one that completely wrecks me.
She’s fucked me.
Completely scrambled my brain and every good intention I had tonight, ever since she yanked open that damn shower curtain.
“Dream on, Becker.”
She says it with so much confidence it almost makes me hesitate.
Almost.
No.
There’s no way.
She won't want anyone else. She might be the fucking Queen of Hearts, but I will own her pussy.
She won’t be thinking about anyone else for a long time.
