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“What do you want? I’m reasonable. I can bevery reasonable.”
I wet my swollen lips, and his eyes track the movement.
“Hm,” I grumble, and Emery’s eyes flutter closed.
“Oh Jesus, you sound like Geralt fromThe Witcherwhen you do that. Do it again.”
I smirk at him, and he peeks an eyelid open, frowning when he sees me smiling.
“Why are you smiling?”
“You’re funny.”
“It’s not funny. It’s serious business. Do. It. Again.”
“I need to think about what I want in exchange. I’ve learned from the best.”
His fingers tighten against me, and I wince at the sting, but I don’t say anything because I like it. Just a little. The women I’ve been with have never been aggressive, but it seems that I’ll enjoy being roughed up a bit.
“Hurry up. I’m dying here,” he says, rolling his hips again, and I gasp at the hot sensation that moves through my abdomen straight to my balls.
“Hm,” I grumble again, and his mouth smashes back onto mine. He’s biting roughly on my bottom lip, and I grunt from the pain before he pulls his mouth away from me and scoots off my lap.
He glances down at my crotch and then covers his own with his palm.
“Fuck, that was too rough. I’m being too rough.”
I touch my tender bottom lip with my tongue, and he follows the movement. I ache in the most delicious of places. My mouth, my scalp, my cock. I want him to do it again. Too rough? No, I want it rougher.
“I’m sorry. I lost control for a moment. I tend to get a little…carried away. I just have all these, you know…fantasies about you.”
My eyebrows rise at that, and I pull my legs up and drape my arms across my knees. “You fantasize about me?”
He rolls his eyes. “Duh.”
I tilt my head and watch as Emery fidgets with the hoodie strings, pulling one into his mouth. That’s my fucking sweatshirt, and he’s sucking on it. Why do I like that so much?
“What do you fantasize about?” I ask, unable to help myself.
“Oh. You probably shouldn’t open that door. Pandora's box and all that. Never know what will spill out.”
“That’s what I want then. Those are my terms. I want something from Pandora’s Box.”
Emery’s eyes meet mine, and he pulls the string from his mouth. “Fine. But I’m about to offend your delicate sensibilities, brother.”
“Stepbrother.”
He scoffs and then meets my gaze.
“I want to come on your face. I want to jack off all over those sexy lips of yours and then push my come into your mouth with my fingers and make you eat it.”
The visual assaults me, and I feel myself blush. Emery wraps a hoodie string around his finger as he watches me.
“Interesting,” I choke out.
“Oh, do notdo that. Do not psychoanalyze me. Your mom does that enough. It’s bad enough with Dr. K and your mom, but notyou.”
When I don’t say anything, he scoots a little closer, his eyes wide. “Why’s it interesting?”
