Page 87 of Make Me Laugh

We shouldn’t?

We should?

There are so many reasons we shouldn’t, but I’ve recently come up with a few reasons we should.

I’m at a crossroads in my mind, and I don’t know where to go from here.

“Joey, I⁠—”

I don’t let him finish. My hands move from his arm to his cheeks, cupping his face as I lean down to press my lips to his.

I have to know if last time was a fluke. I can’t keep torturing myself, thinking there’s something more here if it was my lonely mind playing tricks on me. But is the pressure of the internet wanting us to be more getting to me too, or is this real?

The kiss starts off slow, not lacking a burning need for more. It’s never sloppy, no missed cues as to where we go next.

His hands cover mine, bringing them to his shoulders as he rises from the floor, putting one knee on the bed between us. West pulls me into him, straddling his leg as he deepens the kiss. His tongue slips through my parted lips, commanding control in a way that has me turning to putty in his hands.

I’ve always been seen as the controlling type, but behind closed doors, I want to give that up. I want someone to take care of me for once.

I want to let go and let someone else lead.

West fell into that role effortlessly the night we met, and now, it seems it wasn’t just my imagination playing tricks on me.

He grabs my waist with one hand, helping me rock my hips against his thigh. I hadn’t realized I sank down until a rush of pleasure floods between my legs from the friction.

I should stop. I need to stop. I do not want to stop.

West presses his thumb so hard into my hip I know there will be a mark there later, maybe even a bruise. I shiver at the thought, accompanied by another roll of my hips. A moan vibrates against West’s lips, and every part of me is fighting something different at the exact same time.

My brain is trying to use logic—telling me this is a bad idea, but the rest of my senses are in such a state of overdrive, its warning goes up in flames.

I don’t let my brain make the decision. I let my body.

West grips my jaw in his hand, pulling our lips apart as I grind against his leg again. “You said no sex, but I wanna see you come. So fucking bad.”

Logic screams, but the sound of my pleasure is louder when I moan at his words.

God, there are too many layers between us.

This man makes me want him so uncontrollably that I’m dry humping his leg like we’re in high school and this is the loophole we found in our purity rings.

The hairs stand on the back of my neck when his hand slides between my legs and applies pressure through my sweatpants—exactly where he knows I need it.

Fuck, I was so wrong about him not knowing where the clit’s at!

My breath hitches at the swirl of his finger.

“How’s that sound, baby?” West asks, still holding me in place by the jaw. “Do you want me to make you come?” His eyes lock on mine, ready for an answer.

“Please,” I moan softly, my eyelashes fluttering at his touch between my legs.

“Thank fucking god.” West’s voice is a deep rumble, and his lips are back on mine, followed by the sound of his rings meeting in a pile somewhere.

Letting go of control doesn’t feel natural, but when I finally do, the lifted weight off my shoulders and body adds to the euphoria of West’s touch.

The hand on my chin slides down the side of my neck, trailing down my arm, and then the curve of my waist until he grips me again, pushing me down onto his hand pinned between us.

West rubs my clit through my pants, and I’m getting close to begging him to slip his hand inside the waistband.