How the hell had I ended up like this?
He’d saved me from the gremlins.
Damn it.
That was how I’d ended up like this.
“Do I want to know what’s running through your head?” His polite tone had me sighing and shaking my head. “I didn’t think so.”
He was evil...but he also kept rubbing my hole and stroking his hand over my ass...so I decided he was only half evil. “You look so sexy like this.”
Ugh.
Okay, maybe a quarter evil?
“I won’t make you stay naked, but if you do, I’ll let you pick how you get to come later.” His voice was pure temptation and had me moaning again. He knew he was going to get what he wanted, but he didn’t gloat. He just smoothly sealed the deal. “I bet my slut wants to be bent over his desk and fucked fast and hard.”
Whining, I rubbed my dick against his lap, but he moved his finger away from my hole and just rested his hand on my lower back.
Why couldn’t he have been mean?
“Don’t you want to be my good boy? Maybe you want me to torture you and milk your prostate until you scream and beg to be given a real orgasm?”
He was using my weaknesses against me...and my lack of common sense.
“That’s not fair.” Groaning, I pushed up and back onto my knees beside him on the bed, glaring at him and doing my best to ignore how good my ass felt. “You can’t use my kinks against me.”
He scoffed, rolling his eyes like I was ridiculous. “Of course I can. Just like I’m going to use my knowledge against you and make you pancakes for breakfast.”
Oh, he had pancakes?
“The real kind? Not the ones from the freezer section?” I wouldn’t be greedy...those were good but real ones were definitely a step above.
“What the hell have you been eating?” Rohan looked horrified. “No, don’t answer that. Just hearing about it will give me heartburn.”
He was ridiculous, but I wasn’t going to point that out since it was getting me real food.
“No one would take care of me.” Looking, hopefully, slightly pathetic, I shrugged. “Taking care of myself was stressful.”
The gremlins and all.
Rohan sighed. “You have a point there.”
I was glad somebody thought so.
“So just to clarify, I get real pancakes?” I wanted to make sure I heard that right. “What brand?”
When he just blinked at me, I thought the question might’ve been confusing. “They don’t all taste the same. Did you buy the cakey ones or the plain ones? I like both. Don’t worry.”
Cakey ones were better, but technically I liked all kinds of pancakes.
Even the healthy ones...but those needed a lot of syrup to taste edible.
“Oh, what kind of syrup did you buy? I can’t remember what you answered in the Facebook poll we did.” That was the one downside of having so many wonderful friends—it was a lot to keep track of. “Oh, did you vote plain? There were like five of those and I wasn’t sure why they were punishing themselves, but Lori said I couldn’t ask because it might be triggering.”
Oh, had I triggered him?
Was that why he was still staring at me?
