Page 43 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

“Low blow,” John croaked as he curled into the fetal position and moaned.

“Don’t be such a man,” I mocked. “It’s ruining our friendship.”

John smiled, between the moments he writhed and groaned, and flashed his dimples as his dark eyes twinkled.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” I sucked on my pipe and rubbed at my sore throat. “You were baiting me.”

He winked. “Guilty as charged. I guess you’ll have to spank me now, you beautiful blue-haired goddess.”

I combed my fingers through the ridiculously curly mass that now hung to my waist. It was heavy and annoying.

Of course John would make fun of it.

Playing along, I leaned across the bed and slapped his butt. “Count to ten,” I said in a deep voice like I’d heard Malum do when he was acting like a pervert and spanking women with his belt.

“Oh yes, mistress,” John yelled in a dramatic high-pitched voice. “One,” he moaned exaggeratedly.

My cheeks flushed, and I pulled my hand away from his butt like it burned. Had it always been so firm?

Friends did not spank friends and enjoy it.

That was a rule.

“Please, mistress, let me have your spanks,” John said dramatically between laughs.

He was ridiculous.

“I just threw up in my mouth,” I said with a grimace.

John laughed harder. “Same. Between the two of us, I wouldn’t be the one being spanked.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” John smirked and rested a hand on his messy hair as he flexed.

“What are you doing right now?”

“Nothing,” he repeated and winked, long dark lashes fluttering. “Why do you ask?”

I pointed at his face. “That’s what I’m talking about. Why did you just wink? And are you flexing right now?”

John tipped his head back and exposed the thick column of his throat. He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re being weird.”

John pouted, and his perfect white teeth dug into his thick lower lip. “Baby girl, don’t be like that.”

Why was my best friend being so weird?

A strange sensation churned in my lower stomach.

For a long second, we stared at each other in silence.

John flung his head back, laughing. “You should see your face right now.” He gasped. “Baby.” He laughed harder as he slapped my bed with his palm. “Girl.”

“Oh, shut up.” I punched him in the gut. “You’re not funny.”

“Could you imagine if I called you ‘baby girl’?” John gasped for air and wiped at his eyes. “You’re not anyone’s baby girl. I can tell you that for free.”

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