Page 177 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

I try to smother my laugh,

but it slips right out of me anyway.

“You really think I need to lay a finger on you to distract you?” My eyes fall back to his waist. “Drew, you get hard from just lookin’ at me.”

He throws me a lazy shrug, all Jersey arrogance, like— really, baby? I’m distracted? You’re the one hypnotized by my cock. “You been eye-fucking my zipper since I started rackin’ the balls. Don’t front. You’re thinkin’ about ridin’ it, not pool.”

My brain hands me the filth: me straddling six-point-five, my pussy dragging raw as I grind down slow. His head buried in my neck, mouth falling open, broken groans spilling hot on my throat, fingers biting my hips. Wet flooding between my thighs, dripping down his balls, soaking him...

Brain: please stop.

Pussy: absolutely not.

He digs out a quarter from his pocket for the coin toss.

I circle behind him.

“You’re right,” I say with a shrug. “I am thinkin’ about ridin’ it.”

He turns his head, eyes following me, grin caught in the middle of cocky and shy.

Then a blush crawls up his throat,

gaze darting anywhere but at me.

Andrew Harding, flustered.

“Just try keepin’ your eyes up here.”

“I’ll try,” I say sweet. “But if you catch my eyes wandering south?” I glance back down at his zipper. “Yeah, I’m thinkin’ about your cock inside me.”

He coughs into his fist,

clearing his throat. “Heads or tails?”

“Head,” I say.

He fights another smile,

another blush.

The coin flips,

then ricochets off his thumb,

and he fumbles the catch.

The coin skitters off the table.

“Fuckin’—” He chokes back a rough laugh, face flushed as he ducks to grab it.

The quarter’s racing across the floor,

off to rub one out behind the jukebox.

Same, Coin. Same.

“Tails,” he says, standing.