Wingman [Woman]

“Why are you doing this to me? Makin’ me feel for you? I don’t want to fuckin’ feel for you, Tia. I just want you to stop makin’ me feel.”

I swallow and turn my eyes away.

“Don’t look away from me. Don’t be ashamed of the power you have. Embrace it, but just know you deserve better than me. I don’t want you to wait for me, but I can’t fucking tell you to leave. I’m selfish.”

My eyes burn as unshed tears rise to the surface.

“Don’t cry,” he says, leaning down and kissing my tears away. “Don’t fuckin’ cry, baby.”

He spreads my legs and his cock pushes inside me without warning.

“Oh God,” I whimper.

“Don’t cry,” he groans, pulling it back out and sliding it back in. “Never fuckin’ cry for me. I’m not worth it.”

“You are.” I gasp as he begins fucking me for the second time tonight.

“I want my cock inside you; it’s all I think about. Your little pussy consumes me, invading my thoughts.”

Deeper, softer, oh God.

“Take me deeper,” he growls into my ear. “Spread your legs wider and take my cock so fuckin’ deep you feel my balls against your sweet ass. I’ll fuck you there one day. I’ll make you scream my name with my cock deep inside your ass while my fingers sink into your pussy.”

I tremble and cry out his name, my orgasm scarily close.

“Come for me. Don’t hold back. Give me all of this.”

He plunges deeper. Pushing my ass into the sink but I don’t care.

“I want to come. I need to fucking come. Milk me, baby, take me inside you,” he hisses, biting my earlobe.

“Then come,” I growl, arching up. “You prick.”

“Fuck,” he moans. “My dirty girl.”

I press myself up into him, reaching down to grip his ass as I find my orgasm. He finds his in the exact same moment, as if we’re one and the same. As I clench around him, his cock pulses inside me.

“Milk me, fuck, God, yes.”

I drop back into the sink, sighing deeply. Reign lifts my head, nuzzling my cheek.

“You’ve killed me. It’s official,” he murmurs.

“I could say the same. Mrs. Mufflepuff is out of bounds for the next week.”

He snorts and pushes himself back. “I’m starving and I want more alcohol.”

“Reign?” I ask, as he pulls me up and takes a towel.

“Yeah?”

“Would it be—” I hesitate. “Would it be too much to ask for you to stay with me tonight?”

His eyes flash and he turns to me. “No, that ain’t too much to ask.”

I give him a full-blown, can’t-wipe-it-off-my-face smile.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Give me five things I don’t know about you.” I laugh, leaning back into the bed with a bottle of wine in my lap.

“I hate chickens.”

I snort loudly and start laughing hysterically. “Chickens? Why?”

Grinning, Reign drops down beside me, slice of pizza in his hand. “They’re just . . . ugly.”

“You hate them because they’re ugly?”

He shrugs. “They’re like an insult to nature ‘Oh I’m a bird, but I can’t fly. I just run around squeezing eggs out of my ass.’”

I laugh so hard that my belly aches. “You’ve been playing in the special farm too long.”

He chuckles. “No one said I wasn’t special.”

“Okay,” I say, trying to breathe through my giggles. “What else?”

“I have an extreme weakness for cigars. I mean, I’m going to be that old, wrinkled man in fifty years that’s sitting in his study, killing everyone with cigar smoke.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Gross.”

“I love basketball, but I could never figure out how to play it.”

“Poor sad, short man.”

He grunts. “Rub it in, go on.”

I roll, taking my wine with me until I’m settling in the crook of his arm.

“Number four?”

“I love Family Guy.”

I burst out with a squeal. “Me too!”

“Yeah?” he says, tangling a finger in my hair. “I knew I liked you.”

“And the last one. Make it count, big guy.”

“I fix old cars when I’m not at work.”

I sit up, staring down at him. “Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“I mean like . . . whoa! You in greasy cover-alls? And I didn’t know?”

He winks at me. “Maybe one day I’ll let you see them.”

“Oh, damn right you will, or I’ll never suck your perfect cock again.”

“Oh, you can’t deny it, you know you can’t.”

I laugh and sink further into him.

“Your turn.”

I pout. “I love hamsters.”

He snorts. “No shit. That thing you owned had a goddamned bow-tie.”

“Careful buddy,” I say, pinching his arm. “Don’t you speak about Henrietta like that.”

“I still claim you’re harboring a mental condition.”

“You’re just jealous because I have the full capability to lick windows, and you do not. It’ll come, old cigar-smoker. It’ll come.”

He laughs again. “What is it about you that makes me laugh so fucking hard? I never laugh.”