“Correct again.”
“Then these,” his index finger trails along the script on the other side, “arealsoIncubus lyrics?”
I instantly nod.
“Whatever tomorrow brings, I’ll be there,” he reads in a soft tone.
“It matches Jer’s.” Our stares connect again. “He has the other half of the lyrics tattooed around his ankle.”
“Why?”
“Why there or why the tats?”
“Both.”
“He’salwayswanted to be a ball player, and I always wanted to be dancer. We’ve always been huge supporters of one another, having each other’s backs, carving our way through the world together, so when he got drafted into the NBA, we got them to celebrate. He wanted me to ‘always be there with him’ no matter where I ended up.”
“Like a yin and yang thing?”
“But with Incubus.”
“Also, his favorite band?”
“Yeah,” giggles fill the room for the millionth time, “but he expects people to ignore that shit like fans were supposed to just pretend Worf’s ridges hadn’t changed in season two.”
At that, the naked man above me cockily grins. “You know that’s because someone stole the original prosthetics from the prop department, right?”
“Ididknow that.” My body excitedly wiggles. “And I like thatyouknow that.”
“I like when you’re on top of me,” he salaciously flirts, frame peeling itself back onto his hunches.
“I like when I’m top of you too…” An idea quickly pops into my mind and out of my mouth. “Let’s switch places, and I’ll show you how stretchy I can really get.”
The idea of banging me is enough on its own to get J.T. hot and bothered; however, having him in a sitting position, with his back against the cushioned headboard, my hands braced on his shoulders, watching me slide down his dick into the splits has him almost coming instantly.
“ForfucksakeBeloved,” leaves him alongside a twitch of his cock. “Howinthefuck…”
My forehead falls forward to rest against his. “Practice.”
“You only practice this shit with me from now on,” J.T. growls as his fingers latch onto my sides. “Got it?”
“I like it when you’re bossy.”
“I like it when you’re coming.”
Stopping my dripping wet muscles from clenching is impossible.
“Let’s make that happen, Beloved.”
There’s barely an opportunity to brace myself for the first unrestrained thrust I’m delivered.
J.T. harshly yanks down and bucks up in tandem, taking full advantage of his easy accessibility.
The forceful impact knocks our faces into one another.
Prompts his mouth to conquer mine.
Allows juices to drip down his balls.
