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Atty wraps his other arm around me and drops a kiss on my forehead. “That’s what best friends are for. I love you, Loh. With my whole heart. Always will.”
I take a moment to soak up the embrace. “Love you, too.”
This time, it doesn’t feel suffocating to say.
Pulling away doesn’t feel like ripping the stitches from a wound.
When he walks off, little anxiety bubbles start popping in my stomach, but it has nothing to do with my unresolved feelings—which are paving a path to being resolved. It has to do with the man I know is waiting for me behind the curtain.
My phone pings.
Corvin: Backstage, sweetheart. Now.
Every command comes with the threat of punishment, but I’m not looking for the high right now. I want the warmth. The safety. To be caged in and smothered with affection.
It’s weird. And gross.
But Corvin manages to give it to me in a way that doesn’t make my skin crawl.
It makes me yearn.
For things I know I can’t take from him.
Because I could never handle it.
My feet carry me because they know what we need, and when I push through the curtain and immediately have arms around my waist dragging me to a corner and pinning me to a wall, I know that I’ve got it.
Lips come down on mine as a hand slips under my jacket and rides up my back. Another sinks into my hair, and I melt into his hold.
“Your brother sent me a picture of you,” Corvin mumbles as he trails his lips down my neck.
I reach down and palm the front of his dress pants, moaning and squeezing the bulge his erection makes.
“You cannot have a freaking hard on during the event.”
He flicks his tongue over my collarbone and punctuates it with a tiny nip.
A threat or a promise?
“We could remedy that if you let me use your throat.”
In the last few weeks, Corvin has taken enjoyment in wrecking my mouth. There have been lots of lazy blowjobs and rimjobs once he admitted how much he likes his ass played with.
Not something I thought I’d enjoy, but those strong thighs squeezing my head when my tongue does something just right? Hell yes.
“I didn’t think we were running that kind of auction.” Rascal’s voice makes me thump my head on the wall.
“Cockblock,” I grumble as Corvin resituates my suit and takes my mouth in another long, messy kiss.
When he pulls away, Rascal is watching us with an amused expression akin to the Cheshire Cat.
“God help the man who bids on you. Cory here might break their neck.”
I roll my eyes and push out of Corvin’s hold. “Lucky for this imaginary man that I’m not up for auction.”
“Lucky indeed.” Rascal starts patting down Corvin’s suit where my hands ruffled it up.
It’s ungodly how handsome he looks in his charcoal gray suit and freshly shaved sides that make his black coils stand out. He’s even wearing his glasses, which does something to my libido.
