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That comment has me tilting my head. “Why?”

A moment passes before she turns her back to me, grabbing her camera from the counter. “Because he's incapable of feeling anything. Who better to test your queeriosity on?”

She's gone before I can respond, the RV door slamming shut behind her. I stare into the space she just occupied, processing those words.

Queeriosity.

Incapable of feeling.

Well, I don't know about that last part because he sure as fuck seemed capable yesterday when he had me exploding just from speaking. Jesus Christ, no one has ever done that before. And the shit he said? It was downright fucked up, and yet I was a slut for it. The last few days have been the best orgasms of my life.

So why the fuck not? Why not see where this leads while we're stuck on the tour? Arya likes him, and he seems to like her, too. We could have fun together. And as for whatever happened last night between him and me, well…

I can't say I'm opposed to it happening again. I'm already getting hard remembering those filthy fucking words he whispered in my ear.

Adjusting myself, I grab my moto jacket before venturing out to find him, excitement and anticipation setting my blood ablaze.

There's no telling what will happen from now on, and the thrill of it, the adrenaline, pumps me the fuck up.

Now, I just need to see how far Devon is willing to go.

Chapter Eight

Devon

The Ferris wheel lurches forward, metal creaking under its own weight as our cart swings slightly. Arya squeals, grabbing onto my arm like we’re about to plummet to our deaths.

“Damn, baby girl,” I smirk. “Didn’t peg you for the scared-of-heights type.”

Emphasis on peg. Yes, please.

She glares at me, her fingers gripping my bicep. “I’m not scared of heights. I just… This thing is old, okay? What if a bolt comes loose? What if—”

Leaning in, I press my lips to her ear, flicking my tongue over her lobe. “What if we’re stuck up here forever? Just you and me? Nothing but time on our hands to do whatever we want.”

She gasps dramatically, clutching a hand to her chest. “I would literally throw myself over the edge.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of me, and I study her from the corner of my eye. She's holding the stuffed gorilla I'd won at a carnival game, her blonde hair in a thick braid down her back. A sexy as fuck dress with little cherries on it clings to her curves.

Almost everyone bitches about her being annoying sometimes, but honestly? She’s not so bad. I won't lie, when she'd asked if I wanted to “hang out,” I'd expected to get some action, not… actually hang out.

She's funny. Definitely not boring, and I like not boring. She's the kind of girl I used to bring home to disappoint my parents—

Grandparents. My grandparents, who raised me.

With a snort, I drape my arm over the back of the seat. “You know, statistically, Ferris wheels are the safest amusement park ride. You’re more likely to die from choking on a hotdog than this thing breaking.”

Arya squints at me, glossy lips parted in suspicion. “You just made that up.”

“Did I?” I grin, giving her a wink. “I've got a hotdog you can choke on.”

She rolls her eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't stick there. “Your ego is huge.”

“And it's not the only thing that's huge.”

“Oh my God.” She smacks my shoulder, crossing her arms like she's mad, but I catch the smile on her cheeks. “You and Christian only think with your dicks, I swear.”

The cart jerks again as we descend, and she lets out a little squeak, gripping my wrist tighter. Peeking over the edge, her confidence falters, but she quickly turns back to me.