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Pulling out a bar stool, I sink into it as Devon turns around to face me, his gray sweats hanging dangerously low and his chest glistening with sweat.
“Let me guess.” I can’t help but scan him up and down. “You haven’t fucked in two days so now you’ve gone back to running.” Devon only ever does cardio if he doesn’t get fucked enough. I just eat.
Devon slides over a mixed berry protein shake and I take it, wrapping my fingers around the cool glass. “Something like that.”
“Devon.” I reach for his attention with my words. “Why did Bryant set up that video?”
He ignores me.
I swing off the bar stool, making my way toward him. I’m well aware the kind of effect I have on Devon, and yes, I may be a bitch right now for using it to my advantage, but the way I see it, that’s all these men ever do. Manipulate their position in my life.
I lick my lips and run my fingers through my hair, swiping it all up to the top of my head before tying it up. I’m wearing a loose silk nightie and fluffy slippers.
Bringing my finger to Devon’s rock-hard chest, I run them down, over his pierced nipple and curves of his abs, swiping the glossy slickness of his sweat until I get to the band of his briefs.
“Fuck,” he groans, falling against the counter while letting me have at it. His blue eyes come to mine. “What do you want to know?”
I step between his stretched legs, my hand at his crotch. I know Devon’s body like the back of my hand. I know exactly how he likes to be fucked, and he knows exactly how I like to be fucked. We were each other’s enablers for years, sometimes we would fuck for days until we would eventually fall into a sex slumber.
I run the cushion of my thumb over his swollen tip. “Everything.”
“Really?” Bryant grunts from the other side of the kitchen, and I smirk, slowly bringing my eyes up to him. His eyebrows are raised. “You’re weaker than I thought, Devon. Like a fucking lost little puppy dog.”
Devon snaps out of it and groans while painfully pushing me away. “Can you blame me?”
Bryant ignores us both and heads straight for the coffee. “Yes?”
My heart stammers in my chest and Devon no longer exists. Bryant is wearing slacks, but no shirt, so all of his tattoos are on display, and his tattoos are not to be taken lightly. They’re demonic and entrancing. Every single flick of pattern tells a story of his past. Of what he lives with on a daily basis. He’s not a “get a tattoo just because” kind of guy. Every single thing is calculated and thoroughly thought through, just like the art that hangs on his walls.
“Bryant…” I try his name on my lips like I would the first sip of an enticing new drink.
He turns to face me, and I’m momentarily paralyzed by the way his eyes peer into mine.
I can’t breathe.
I need distance, but I’m backed against the kitchen counter and he’s directly in front of me. “Back to Bryant? Not husband?”
I cross my arms. “Not anymore.”
His eyes fall to my chest. “Nice tits.” He closes the gap between us, his arm hooking around my back to pull me into his chest. He runs the tip of his nose over mine. “Can almost remember how they felt suffocating my cock.”
I suck in a deep breath, my fingers sprawling out over his smooth chest. “Stop.”
“Keep going?” Bryant growls softly, leaning forward and sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. He bites down on it roughly. “Devon?” The tone is gentle, but I knew that the next words he was about to say wouldn’t be. “Get the fuck out.”
“I want to watch…” Devon whines from somewhere behind us.
Bryant ignores him, his eyes still on mine. “The fuck out, Devon.”
My breathing becomes erratic with every breath my heart feels as though it’s being weighed down by boulders. I recognize the shift in him, and I’m well acquainted with it. I’ve sat down and bled with this side of Bryant, rolled with it in the dirt and come back out fucking destroyed. I need him. I need to feel his raw animalistic presence kill me from the inside out.
“Max could come down and catch us.”
“Bet he won’t look for long, motherfucker knows not to play with me. On your knees.” He cocks his head, seeing the slight defiance flash over my eyes. “Now, Isa.”
I fight my legs to stay upright, unmoving. My defiance wants to challenge his need for control, but every time I try, I know I fail. My knees weaken as I collapse onto them, my eyes staying on his.
Running his fingers through my hair, he dampens his bottom lip with his tongue, sipping his coffee. “Stay there.” Placing his mug onto the bench, he moves to the cutlery drawer.
