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“Your skin,” I grin, “reminds me of my favorite dessert. Strawberry Shortcake.”
Screw Chad and his stupid words. I’m getting laid by a sexy-as-fuck hockey player tonight. My mind is made up.
His lustful stare tells me everything I need to know. That he wants Riley to not just be his tonight, but ours.
The entire drive, they were comparing their terrible taste in music (like Ricky Martin’s “Livin’ La Vida Loca”) and their love for tacos.
“What I’m trying to say is that we’re both commitment-phobes with insane schedules who enjoy and crave each other's company. We both love sex, we’re both queer, and we both enjoy having the freedom to fuck other people, both separately and together. So no, we aren’t together in the traditional sense, but we are at the same time.”
“I have a new razor in here you can use. As for the underwear, I plan on you being naked all night. No need for them.” His eyes level with mine, our noses now touching. “That is, if you want to get naked with me, Riley?”
“I’m a man of many talents, Shortcake. You want to find out more of them?” “Yes,” I hum, “I’d like that very much.” “Then strip. I want to shave your legs for you.”
I kiss her nose. “Then I’m happy to be your first. Now strip. Or I'll haul you over my shoulder and show you how much I don’t care about your hairy legs.” “So bossy.”
“You’re so beautiful, Riley.” My name on his lips has me cursing quietly. “Especially with my handprints on your ass. I can’t wait to make you our little cock slut tonight.” “Oh god, yes,” I whine, my voice not sounding like mine. “I want that.”
“Use your words.” I slap her clit lightly for punctuation. “Fuck, yes! Please, Sir. Fuck me with your fingers.” Okay, that brings my dick back to life. I give her a playful glare. “I love it when you say please.”
“I understand…Daddy.”
“Suck them both,” I order.
Santa did me a solid this Christmas. Ho, ho, fucking, ho.
