She could say, have, doanything.
"Alright." I stood quickly, and Calvin's knees hit the floor as she melted off the side of the bed. I flopped onto my back beside her, starin' up at the ceiling.
"Let's do it. Make a man outta me, viper."
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
I looked at him.
He was flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, and he'd said it like a joke—make a man outta me, viper—with the grin already built in, the escape hatch already constructed. That was the thing about Brody Lancaster. He could make anything sound like a punchline.
I gripped his chin and turned his face toward mine. The grin dropped. What was left underneath it was something I hadn't seen from him yet—open, and a little terrified, and trusting in a way that had no business being directed at me.
The silence between us did the rest.
I let go of his chin to get up and gather what we needed.
The harness and dildo were still in my duffel bag, along with some lube, tucked in the bedroom closet. While I'd unloaded my clothes into the second-hand dresser Brody had picked up for me at a yard sale, I hadn't anticipated needing these particular items anytime soon. I pulled them out and took my time getting situated while Brody tracked my movements from the bed, trying real hard to look relaxed.
I turned around and his eyes went straight to the dildo in my hand.
He paused for a beat.
"That's—" he started.
I raised a brow.
He closed his mouth.
"I am the professional here," I said pleasantly. "You are the enthusiastic amateur. Govern yourself accordingly."
He opened his mouth again. Closed it again. Then, with what I could tell was significant personal effort, he put both hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.
"Noted," he said.
"Good boy."
He whimpered.
Turning away with a grin on my face, I stepped into the harness and adjusted the straps. When I turned back around he wasn't staring at the ceiling anymore.
He was staring at me.
The grin was gone. He was just… looking. His throat moved when he swallowed.
"Calvin," he said. Just that.
"I know," I said. And climbed back onto the bed.
Brody was propped against the pillows, studying me with a casualness that didn't fool either of us. I took my time—slicking my fingers with lube, settling between his thighs, letting him feel the patience in it. His exhale was long and harsh when I dragged my fingers over his entrance, like he'd been holding it since he hit the mattress.
"Good," I murmured.
He chuckled. "I haven't done anything yet."
"You're breathing." I stroked, unhurried, and watched him. "That counts."
He smiled and his shoulders dropped a fraction from where they'd been bunched around his ears. His cock was hard against his stomach—had been since before I'd gotten the harness on—and the sight of it was genuinely inconvenient. I wanted my mouth on him.
