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“Don't you dare say that I can't ask that. My catch. My question,” I taunt. “Spill, D.”
She sighs. “It all depends.”
“On?”
“On many things,” she answers, then shrugs.
“Okay, give me an estimate,” I say, keeping it simple. “How many times a week?”
Her glare is making me want to laugh. I cock my brow, awaiting the answer.
“Estimate?”
I nod, keeping eye contact.
“Um...maybe around two or three,” she answers bashfully.
Two or three. My eyes widen. Two or three times a week. My girl fucks her fingers, needing pleasure two to three times a week? I'm not doing my job.
The redness is rising in her soft, pale neck as I gaze at her like a deer caught in the headlights. A drooling deer in the headlights.
“Two or three times a week,” I repeat out loud.
She looks like she could kill me for even voicing it.
“To Cagen or his brothers?” I ask with a cocked brow, pushing.
Her eyes narrow at me.
“That was one book,” she says with a glint in her eye. “There are many other men that get me there.”
She knows exactly how I operate. Knows I hate the idea. Something deep within me can't stand the thought of another man on her mind, making her cum. So, I throw it back at her.
“But only one who can get you to scream his name.”
Her chest heaves, and she glowers at me. I know she's remembering the way she mercilessly rode me in that hotel room, my name falling from those lips again and again as her head tipped back to the ceiling, praying to a god that couldn't save her. The glare sears through me once again.
“Okay, okay.” I raise my hands, surrendering with a chuckle. “Your turn, gremlin.”
With the setting on low and the angle high, I pop a ball out to her midfield. She eyes it, determination in her stare. Flicking her ponytail back over her shoulder, she's light on her feet as she moves beneath it, catching it with ease.
A satisfied grin approaches me as she pauses in her new Nike sneakers, courtesy of her giving lover, tipping her chin with an adorable confidence.
“Ask away,” I mumble begrudgingly.
“Alright, I'll start simple,” she says with a smile. “Since I already know your biggest turnon is kissing while fucking,” she begins, and I swallow. “What I want to know is, what’s your biggest turnoff?”
I twist my lips, looking at the ceiling above her as I find my answer. “Weakness.”
Her forehead wrinkles as she attempts to process. But I'm not giving her time to process. I jog off, ready for my catch. My question.
She must have figured out how to toy with the settings because these balls keep coming at me faster and harder.
“Alright,” I breathe, pausing before her with the caught ball in hand. “I'm up.”
She purses her lips in disappointment, waiting.
“What's your favorite position?”
