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“I’d like an apology,” I say when I’m able. Decker blinks twice and his lips quiver with the effort it costs him not to laugh. “I’m sorry I made your dick hard, Princess.”
“I’m going to kiss you, and”—he takes my head in both hands and holds me firmly in place as he closes the space between us—“I want it to hurt you as much as it’s going to hurt me.”
If fucking around and finding out were a person, he’d look exactly like me.
Long story short, I owe Robbie McGuire ten thousand dollars. I’m not happy about it. Not to sock shame anyone, but if you insist on walking around hotel rooms in nothing but boxer briefs and the sluttiest socks known to man, this is the kind of shit that happens.
It’s always the socks
