Page 9 of Roundabout

“Can we talk about this later? I like what your mouth was just doing better.”

“This?” He licks one long, flat-tongued swipe up my pussy, ending at my clit to kiss it sloppily, hungrily.

“Yes,” I moan, gripping his hair to keep him there. “That.”

Coty shakes free of my hands though, pulling back to say, “Next weekend.”

My fists hit the mattress and I lift up on to my elbows, glaring at my infuriating boyfriend between my thighs.

Fiancé?

Fiancé. I officially have a fiancé. A fiancé who’s in full negotiation-mode while I’m…horny.

“One week? Is that even enough time to get a marriage license?”

“I’ll pay extra to have it expedited.”

“But—”

“We’ve had time, Angela. I’m ready to be married and nothing’s going to stop me now that you are, too.”

“How do you always know the right thing to say?”

“It’s a talent. Set a date and I’ll show you one of my others.” The promise in his eye causes a tingle to run up my spine, and I visibly shiver, my core aching desperately for his touch again.

“Only one?” I question like I don’t already know how talented the man is, then flop back on the bed, huffing in faux boredom. I may even study a nail or two.

I’m flipped over on to my stomach so fast I don’t even get a full laugh out before I’m yanked up to my hands and knees.

I hear a muttered, “Brat,” behind me, and have to hide a smirk by biting my own shoulder.

Coty runs his palm up my spine, then drags two fingertips down the same path, all the way to my tailbone, over my spread ass crack, before twisting his wrist and driving those same fingers into my wet pussy.

“Next. Weekend,” Coty grits while working me over with his fingers, plunging into me over and over again until I’m rocking backward to meet each thrust.

I release my teeth from my shoulder to accuse, “You fight dirty.”

“Always have, always will,” he rasps against an ass cheek as he lowers his mouth to my opening. I feel him relocate his fingers to my clit, swirling around the sensitive nub, then hear his groan before he latches on to my pussy lips, sucking them from behind.

Holy shit.

I drop my forehead to the comforter, sending my entire back end higher in the air for him, hoping he’ll take pity on me and just devour me whole because this seems like the perfect way to go. Face down, ass up, at least I’ll die with a satisfied smile.

“Tell me,” he has the audacity to demand right now.

My hands twisting by my head, I whisper-shout back, “Coty!”

Air replaces his mouth and fingers, and no, I want him back. All of him.

“Promise me.” His shorts hitting the floor punctuate his words as he makes his way over to his nightstand, opening and closing one of the two drawers quickly.

What’s he getting? I know it’s not a condom because we haven’t used one for years. My birth control negates the need. Plus, condoms stink, like literally. Not even his spicy coconut body wash can mask condom odor.

The mattress shifts from him climbing on behind me.

“Promise me and I’ll fuck you now.”

Lifting my head up, I hook a heel around his hip, nudging his ass to bring him forward so the head of his straining cock is pressed against my pussy, then, and only then, do I ask, “What about next month?” because I fight just as dirty.