I lean in close, emboldened by the other guys’ eyes on me. Gripping Kylian’s shoulder, I pop up on my toes and bring my lips to his ear. “I’m thinking we should order an ice cream cone covered in sprinkles so I can smear it all over your cock and lick you clean. Don’t worry. I’ll find every last sprinkle. I swear.” Kylian goes rigid, and his spine snaps straight. “Give me the car keys,” he demands of Kendrick before leaning against the counter below the window and hollering, “One soft serve vanilla cone, extra sprinkles!”
