Whirlwind

by Kayla Grosse

“Yep. Could use a shower and a crispy Diet Coke, maybe a massage and a shot of whiskey, too. Otherwise, I’m good.”

“Do you, A, want me to lick your pussy until you’re begging for me to fill you with my cock”—a small whimper escapes her lips—“B, want to grip the headboard and ride my face until you suffocate me with your sweet cunt—” “Ryker,” she moans, her hips rubbing against my jean-clad thigh. “Or, C, want to get on your hands and knees and let me fuck you so hard our wall neighbor, who happens to be Ezra, will call the front desk to give them a noise complaint.”

“Come on, Ms. Buckley,” he taunts. “I’ll give you extra credit if you soak my beard.”

“Don’t worry so much—it’ll all work out. I say, go after your man. Life’s too short.” “And if it doesn’t work out?” He shrugs. “Then it doesn’t work out. But if you don’t chase the storm, you’ll never know if you’ll catch it or not.”

He sighs audibly. “Fine, but I’ll leave you with this. If I had someone who was willing to fight for me the way Ryker is willing to for you, I wouldn’t pass that up—I’d dive in headfirst.”