And I can’t even express what it feels like to hear the guy whom I’ve been pining after for years, say stuff like that while he’snineinches deep in me.
And it’s right now that I truly realize my crush is not a harmless crush at all. It’s something much, much worse.
Afterwards, when we get out of the shower, I throw him a towel before I start wiping myself down.
“I think I have a praise kink,” I chuckle, still high on endorphins, as I hang the towel on the door before grabbing a pair of boxers from my drawer.
He snorts. “Youthink?”
“What?” I turn around, facing him. He’s pulling his own boxers on.
“Seth People-Pleaser Averythinkshe has a praise kink?”
“I’m not a people-pleaser.” I frown, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Okay,” he shrugs.
“What do you mean—” I mirror his shrug. “—okay?”
He tilts his head to the side. “All evidence points to that, but if you say you’re not, then I’m not gonna argue with you. That’s what—” he shrugs again. “—okay means.”
“Okay, first off? What evidence? And secondly,you’renot gonna argue? That’s a first.” I snort.
He laughs, raking a hand through his hair. “Maybe I just don’t wanna argue with you right after we just fucked.”
“Why? I hear make-up sex is awesome,” I say, wiggling my brows.
He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, biting back a smile. “I don’t think we need make-up sex for it to be awesome.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you exploiting my praise kink?”
He chuckles, dragging a thumb over his lip as he walks over to me, so fucking sexy, I want to climb him like a fucking tree.
Sore ass be damned!
He places a hand on the small of my back, leaning into my ear.
“Is it working?” he whispers. I get a shiver down my back, and a rush of heat travels through my body, making my spent dick jerk.
“Stop being sexy!” I snap, shoving him without any force behind it.
He scoffs. “I wasn’t try—”
“You don’t have to try. You’re like sex on a stick, for fucks sake!”
And he fucking giggles as he turns around, walks over to the bed and climbs in under the duvet.
“You’re staying over?”
“Am I not?” he asks, draping the duvet over himself.
I snort, shaking my head, and climb in on the other side. I shift around for a bit, trying to find a comfortable position and he snorts.
“You okay over there?”
“Would be if you stopped hogging the duvet,” I say, pulling it over me.
“Wow, just say you hate me,” he deadpans, and when I glance at him, the duvet covers about an inch of him. He shoots me a glare and I laugh.
