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I backed him up against the wall and nuzzled his throat. “You know you give me whatever I want, Joey.”

I ran a single finger along his collarbone. He shivered.

“Maybe with sex,” he said. “But not…not everything.”

“No?” I drew back to meet his eyes. “That’s disappointing. I thought you were addicted to me.”

He shoved my chest, making me fall back a step or two. “Don’t be a jerk.”

“I’m not trying to be. You think I’m not addicted to you, too?”

If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here. But I couldn’t resist the siren call of his deep brown eyes full of emotion, his soft, full lips on my body, the supple muscle that shifted under his skin.

The way he smelled like fresh grass just after a rainstorm, and the little sounds he made as I took him apart. As he let me take him apart again and again.

Joey gave me a euphoric high better than any drug I’d experimented with in my teenage years. I craved him constantly.

It was getting to be a real problem. If we kept on like this, how would I ever quit him when the time came?

Joey leaned back against the wall, eyes falling half closed, appeased by my admission.

“How do you want me?”

“Trembling and aching for me.”

He huffed out a breath, looking as if he was going to spit out a sarcastic remark. I pushed two fingers into his mouth, sliding them over his velvety tongue.

He moaned softly, tension falling from his muscles as he sucked them.

“That’s better,” I murmured.

I slipped my left hand down his chest, pausing to pluck one of his nipples until it was red and puffy. He whimpered sweetly, arching his back off the wall.

I moved on, tracing my way over his ribs, circling his belly button, then backtracking to his nipples, playing with them again.

He moaned louder, and his cock welled with precum. But I was just getting started.

I leaned in and whispered into his ear. “No coming until I say you can.”

He groaned and sucked my fingers harder, and as my cock throbbed in my pants, my anxiety over Dakota fell away.

Replaced by anticipation.

So much better.

CHAPTER 23

JOEY

My legs trembled, barely holding me up, as Kit played with me. It shouldn’t be so hot to be toyed with, to be teased and denied, but I was burning up for him.

“Please,” I begged. “Kit…”

He grabbed my waist and twisted. “Face the wall. Spread your legs.”

I did as ordered, arms bracing my weight, hips tipped up. Kit sank down to his knees behind me and spread my cheeks. The next twenty minutes passed in a fugue state of pleasure and desperation.

He used his tongue and teeth and fingers to fire up my nerves, only to refuse to feed the flames, moving on to mouthing my hip, stroking my inner thighs, and dipping a finger in and out of my belly button, which should not be erotic but really was.