He whimpers, and I kiss his racing pulse. “You did so well, pretty boy.” As he slumps, I reach down and pull up his jeans. “Don’t clean up,” I tell him. “I’ll only behave if we go out there and I know I’m still deep inside you.” Turning him to me, I lick my hand clean of his release as he watches, and then I kiss him. “I’ll behave now.” “And I’m the brat?” he mutters, cheeks blazing, but he’s grinning. “My brat,” I reply as I open the stall.
