A Brush With The Devil - Page 8

I reach for his body, pull his shirt over his head, and let him toss it on the living room floor before he’s back to trying to basically eat my damn face with his kisses.

He’s not bad at it.

He just needs to learn that not everyone wants to fuck like an animal all the time.

“Ease up,” I tell him with a laugh as I place my hands on his chest and give him a gentle shove.

“What?” he asks in a breathy tone with a grin on his face. “You’re not one of those love makers, are you? Cause I’m not into nice and slow.”

I smile despite the predicament I find myself in. “I don’t love you, Lakyn. There’s no way I can make love to someone I have no feelings for.”

“Thank God,” he mutters with an eye roll as he pushes himself off me and gets comfortable at the other end of the couch. “Alright, now that we’ve got that clear, come over here and ride my dick.”

I shake my head and look at him disapprovingly. “Don’t waste all that romance on me. You may not have any left for your guy when you get back home.”

“He’s not my guy,” Lakyn barks as he shimmies out of his pants and boxers.

I smirk.

Seems that’s a touchy subject with him, and now I have information to use against him.

“Now are you gonna come over here and let me fuck you or are we going to trade some more barbs?” he asks, running a hand back through his hair impatiently.

He doesn’t know the importance of patience; of being in control. I bet a lot of Lakyn’s relationships are as fast and furious as he is, and something tells me that I’m not going to enjoy anything he’s about to do to me.

Not that I would want to.

He’s not Penn.

I take a deep breath as I sit up, then move to my knees. Pulling off my shirt, I toss it somewhere near his, then move on the couch so I’m hovering just above him. He looks at me uncertainly as he palms his dick and begins to stroke himself.

I glance down at his dick and have to fight the urge to be violent. I could always go down on him again and rip it off with my bare fucking teeth, but I think I’m out of supplies so I can’t really make anything out of him.

He’d be wasted goods right now and I live by the adage of waste not, want not.

“Take my pants off,” I tell him, leaning down, but keeping my lips just of reach of his. He looks frustrated, and I can tell that he doesn’t like being told what to do, but what Lakyn doesn’t understand right now is that I can easily snap his fucking neck anytime I want to.

The only reason I haven’t yet is because of self-discipline. What I used to preach to Aiden when we would train is what I live by myself because I’m not a hypocrite.

“Do you want to do this or not?” I ask him, leaning a little closer. Lakyn leans toward me and I pull back again, “then take my fucking pants off.”

He gives me a dirty look but does as he’s told. I smirk when I realize that of the two of us, he obviously wants this much more than I do, and he’s willing to follow directions like a good little boy.

He hooks his thumbs into my jeans and boxer briefs, pulling them down my thighs, then I slap his hands and push them off the rest of the way.

He raises an eyebrow when my dick springs free, standing at attention, and probably bigger than he was expecting.

It’s part of the reason I only fucked Penn the one time. I didn’t want to hurt him like I knew I was capable of doing—even if he would have allowed it.

“This isn’t a dick competition,” I tell him, when he glances down at the cock in his hand, then back at mine. “I’m not here for measuring contests and neither are you. Let’s get this over with.”

I clear my throat as I move away from Lakyn and get comfortable on my back. He grins as he comes to hover above me as he pushes my legs open.

This is going to suck, I think as soon as he spits into the palm of his hand and begins to force the head of his cock into my ass.

There’s no warm up.

No fingering for a little bit.

Tags: Yolanda Olson Romance
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