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“I said, sex is on the table.” Silence. “Or anywhere else you’d like to have it, to be honest. I’m not picky.” My. Jaw. Was. On. The. Goddamn. Floor. “I’m sorry.” I swallowed back saliva—and possibly my fucking tongue with it. “My grasp on the English language has loosened in the past five seconds. Do you mean to tell me you want to, uh, fuck?”
“I want you like I’ve never wanted anything in my fucking life.” His voice was thick and dark. “I know I’m a pig, but I can’t stop fantasizing about fucking you.”
“It fits,” Rhyland reassured me. “How do you know?” “Because I’ve spent half my fucking lifetime studying every curve and measurement of your body.”
Rhyland: I asked for soft launch, not soft porn. Dylan: Is anal considered soft porn? Idk. I pressed my lips together, suppressing a smile. We really needed to stop talking about sex. Especially in light of her brother wanting to make a BLT sandwich out of me for simply playing pretend with her. It was hard though. Dylan was funny. Imaginative. Real. It was why I’d kept my distance from her up until now. Rhyland: We need to keep it PG-13. Remember, Bruce is a person of faith. Dylan: So am I. Dylan: I firmly believe people who want to get their butt fucked should. It’s no one else’s business.
“You cut your hair.” “Yeah.” “Why?” I felt my face heating up. “Because you didn’t like the man bun.” She cupped her mouth. “What? When did I say that?” “Three days ago, before I kissed you.” “Jesus, Rhy, I was just giving you shit. That man bun made my lady bits tingle.” I sighed. “I’ll add some extensions.” She laughed. “No, you won’t.” Yes, I probably fucking will, because you like it.
