Page 92 of Haunted Spurs

"No. I never had one," he answers clearly, without hesitation. "I'm not the type to do things halfway." Then, he furrows his brow, tilting his head to study me closer. "Do you... usually have them?"

I blink, caught off guard by the sudden pivot. I feel my cheeks heat up.

"Me?" I stammer. I straighten my back, crossing my arms in a defensive gesture. "Uh-uh. NO."

He stays silent, pinning me with a look that's a mix of endeared and sarcastic, as if to say: Then how the hell did you come up with this monumental bullshit?

Under the weight of that analytical stare, my armor gives way, forcing me to justify myself.

"But... we could do it multiple times," I start again, almost mumbling, hating my sudden inability to articulate a sentence. "Without... you know. Without all the problems and drama that real relationships bring."

Ron's expression hardens instantly. A dark shadow crosses his gaze, and his jaw clenches.

"Are you planning on sleeping with other people?" he asks. His voice has dropped an octave.

My eyes go wide.

"What? No!" I exclaim, almost indignant. "Having to tolerate one single human being is already more than enough, thanks."

The muscles in his shoulders relax all at once. The blue of his eyes goes clear and warm again.

"Oh..." he murmurs, and a slow, lazy smile curves his lips. "So you're telling me we're going to have exclusive sex. Periodically."

"But without the drama," I rush to add, poking a finger into his chest to stem that overly triumphant look. "We know we aren't together. No expectations. If one of us wants to stop, they just say so."

He seems satisfied with my answer. In fact... he seems downright happy.

Slowly, Ron closes the very last millimeter of distance between us. He presses against me. His hard chest, his hot pelvis, the sheer size of his body gently pin me against the piano.

He lowers his head, his lips grazing my earlobe. His hot breath sends shivers down my entire body.

"Okay..." he whispers to me. The sound of his voice vibrates straight to my core, thick with filthy promises. "Then I guess I'll just have to commit to satisfying you... and making you happy enough that you never actually want to stop."

Well, I'll be damned.

27

Bad Girl, Good Punishments

Ron

Fuck buddies.

Yeah, right.

Not a chance in hell.

The second I agreed to this bullshit, I knew it was a massive mistake. But I did it anyway. I accepted her absurd rules because, if this is the only way Selene is willing to let me into her world, I'll take it. I'll take all of it.

Because one thing is fucking true, absolute, and undeniable: I'm obsessed with her. And I want her to be mine.

"Are you wet for me, Selly?" I whisper, my voice so low it only vibrates between us.

I slide the fingers of my left hand along the edge of the piano, then slip them agonizingly slowly under the hem of her dress.

I love this dress. It hugs her hips perfectly, highlighting every single curve of her body, outlining the contrast against her pale skin. But as much as I like looking at her like this... I am dying to rip it right off her.

Selene gasps. Her fingers claw convulsively at the fabric of my shirt.