I bury my face in her neck, my tongue tracing up to her ear as I murmur, “Believe it, and you took every inch of it like a good fucking girl.”
She shivers at the praise, even as she laughs again. “I’m honestly surprised I’m not split in half.”
I chuckle, grabbing her ass and giving it a firm squeeze. She squeals, laughing harder, and the sound fills the space like sunlight.
Her laughter turns into a sigh as I start to wash her, soft strokes down her back, gentle care poured into every movement. Just like that, the guilt dissolves. For now, at least.
All that’s left is her, warm in my lap, melting into me.
Something crashes. Loud. Followed by a stomp and a hissed “Shit!”
My eyes snap open.
At first, I think I dreamed it. But then I hear a frantic rustling. Fabric? A thump. A whisper of curses. More frantic rustling.
I turn my head toward the noise slowly and nearly laugh out loud when I see Blair on all fours, crawling across the floor like a sexy, foul-mouthed burglar.
She’s wearing nothing but my damn shirt, which is halfway unbuttoned and hanging off one shoulder like she’s starring in a low-budget rom-com called Walk of Shame: Couture Edition. Her hair’s a full-blown disaster… which I’ll gladly take credit for, and she’s patting the floor with both hands, I presume, looking for something.
I don’t move. I just prop myself up on one elbow and watch.
This is… new.
This is the first time a woman has actually tried to sneak out on me. Not fake sleep. Not awkwardly linger. No, Blair is full-on trying to crawl her way out of my room like I’m some kind of post-sex velociraptor she needs to avoid. It’s almost impressive.
And she hasn’t even noticed me yet. Rude, honestly, considering the amount of dick I gave her last night.
Her ass wiggles as she keeps searching under the dresser. “Where the fuck… ugh, come on…” she mutters to herself, yanking the shirt she was wearing yesterday out from under the nightstand like it personally wronged her.
I wait. Because I’m patient. And a little evil.
Just as she reaches for her pants, victory in her grasp, I say, casually:
“Are you trying to sneak out on me, Peach?”
She screams.
Like full-body, jump-scare, haunted-house scream.
Her head whips around, eyes wide in pure terror, hair flying like she just heard footsteps in a horror movie. “Jesus fucking Christ, Calvin! Are you insane?!”
I grin. “Up for debate.”
She grabs the shorts, clutching them like a life preserver. “I wasn’t sneaking out!”
I raise a brow. “Oh? You just felt inspired to army crawl out of here like a guilty raccoon at sunrise?”
She snorts, face flushed. “I was walking out… quietly…”
“On your hands and knees?”
“I…” She scowls. “You know what? I’m not doing this with you. I need to leave this room and maybe bathe in holy water.” Blair tries to jam one leg in her shorts. She nearly topples over.
I don’t move from the bed. Just smirk. “Or you couldcrawl back into bed, and I can make you beg the way you begged for my dick last night.”
She spins to glare at me. “This isn’t a joke, Calvin.”
“It felt like a joke, the way you tried to sneak out.” I deadpan. “Next time, though, if you’re going to attempt a stealth exit, maybe don’t shout ‘shit’ loud enough to wake the neighbors.”
