“Sorry if I’m asking too many questions,” I say hastily. “It’s just crazy to think about our parents being young and having the same problems as us.”
“Strike three.”
“What?”
“I’m pretty sure that was actually strike six, I just didn’t call out the others because we were talking about something heavy and I didn’t want to sideline your train of thought.” He grins wickedly. “And since I’ve been so magnanimous lately, I’m going to count all six. So that’s strike three, twice.”
“That’s not…”
“Not what?” He slips his hand under the cuff of my sweats and gently skims his palm over my calf.
“There was no rule about counting things you don’t call out.”
“That’s the fun thing about my games.” He drags his blunt nails over my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. “I make the rules.”
“So what happens now that I’ve gotten to strike three?” I ask, my mouth as arid as the desert.
“Do you remember our agreement the first time I went to your room?”
“I remember.”
“Same thing, only I get to claim it whenever I want.”
“Whenever you want?”
He nods, and his heated look is enough to make my dick stir again. “Do we have a deal?”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
His phone vibrates on the coffee table, breaking the spell that’s fallen over us, and he glances at it as the screen lights up with a notification. “I need to check this,” he says and reaches for it.
I sit back against the arm of the couch and try to get my dick to calm the fuck down. I’ve already come twice in the past few hours; there’s no reason to be on such a hair trigger right now.
“Is everything okay?” I ask as he tosses his phone back on the table with a heavy-sounding sigh.
“Yes, but no.” He gives my ankle a reassuring squeeze.
I want to ask what’s going on, but I know better than to stick my nose into business that has nothing to do with me. And I’m pretty sure nagging my situationship about who’s texting him five minutes after we agreed to be fuck buddies is a good way to end things before they’ve even had a chance to start.
“I really hate to do this, but I need to go deal with that.” He hooks his thumb at his phone.
“Yeah, of course.” I give him what I hope is a chill smile, but it probably looks more like I’m grimacing. “I should head out anyway. I’m pretty tired.”
He offers a little smirk as we untangle our legs and swing them over the side of the couch. “Tired? Hmmmm, I wonder if that has anything to do with the two mind-melting orgasms I gave you?” he teases.
My cheeks heat with another stupid blush, but I just tuck my phone into my hoodie pocket and try to ignore it. “Mind-melting? Someone has a high opinion of himself.”
“Are you saying they weren’t?” he asks as he walks me to his door.
“I’m not saying that.” I toss him an innocent look. “I’m just saying that someone has a high opinion of himself.”
“Cheeky.” He gives my ass a little squeeze, then a slap that’s hard enough that the crack of his hand against me echoes in the room.
“Ow,” I say, more out of surprise than because it hurt, and jump away from him. “Someone’s handsy.”
He grabs my shoulder, and before I can make another joke, he pulls me toward him and covers my mouth with his in a hard kiss.
I melt against him as he wraps his strong arms around me and ravages my mouth with deep, drugging kisses.
