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His bedroom is set up for ease of pleasure.
Condoms sit in full view. A box of tissues is on the other nightstand beside a lamp that is partially shielding a tube of lube.
The wastebasket is within reach, and I’m guessing emptied every morning.
Dylan Colt was made for fucking.
I know because I just experienced it first hand. Or my pussy did. The ache deep within it will remind me of him for at least the next few days.
I’m still sore from our last time.
“What’s the next step in our negotiation?” Dylan runs his hand over his semi-hard cock.
I roll to my side. “Not what you think.”
His brows perk. “What do I think?”
“It involves my body.”
“I can go another round.” He looks down at his erection. He’s completely hard. “Here’s my proposal.”
I fight off a smile. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
“I fuck you twice a day for a year, and in exchange at the end of that time, we revisit the idea of you returning the jersey. I need a caveat in there about eating you. I retain the right to do that in addition to the twice daily fucking.”
My smile falls. “Dylan, we…”
“We can’t because Buffalo is on the horizon.” He nods. “I know.”
The moment feels awkward, so I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “I propose you give me back my blouse and skirt in exchange for the return of your jersey the next time we see each other.”
He rakes me as I stand. “When will that be? Tomorrow?”
It’s tomorrow already. It’s nearing two a.m., and I need to go.
“I can’t tomorrow.” I fold my hands together in front of me.
“Why not?” he asks, rounding the bed until he’s in front of me.
I tell him the truth. “I’m working.”
“On the Alcester case?”
“Kurt asked me to help with another client,” I say. “I’m going to handle some of that tomorrow.”
“On Sunday?”
I laugh. “You work on Sundays too.”
His hands reach for mine. “I’ll take tomorrow off if you do.”
I glance down at our fingers woven together. It’s so comfortable to touch him. Everything feels like it fits perfectly together. “I need to work.”
Resignation floats over his expression. “You’re taking off now, aren’t you?”
“I am.” I don’t explain beyond that.
“I’ll get dressed and take you back to Noelle’s place.”
