Page 107 of Pretty Little Lies

I hum in response, feeling her ass cushion my thrusts and the muscles in my groin tighten in warning that I’m about to explode every ounce of animalistic lust that I have for this woman.

“Baby, I’m going to come, so you better chill.”

She meets me then, pushing back on me, and with everything I have within me, I hold back. “I want you to lose all fucking control, Pretty Boy. Fuck me like you own this pussy.”

“I do own this pussy,” I leer, sinking my teeth into her soft flesh. “And that little fucker licking you dry owns it right now too.”

“More than right now,” Reeve chimes in. “I want her to be it.”

It.

Like forever.

“Would you like that?” I nudge the sensitive part of her skin with my nose, desiring that answer more than fucking anything. “Do you want to be Reeve’s?”

She doesn’t answer, her mind, I’m sure, going a million miles a minute. Just like mine always is when she’s around.

The sins of a generation before us make us who we are, how we act toward each other. Some West Side Story shit with a bad ending and lives destroyed over two people on the opposite sides of the tracks.

Except there’re three of us, and we’re all fucked up in different ways.

“Damn, McQueen,” Reeve mutters, coming up to kneel in front of her and getting into her face. “I’m trying to show you my best work here.”

She reaches up, resting her palm along his cheek, and he clasps onto her hand. “It’s not you, Reevie…it’s everything. It’s my past and?—”

“Say no more.” He leans in and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “Just feel…and milk the shit out of Torin’s cock so he can pass out and we can go again.”

Her body jolts with a small chuckle, and I roll my eyes. I’m trying to throw in my own best work here and he’s playing Casablanca with her.

“Technically,” I mutter against the shell of her ear, “I wouldn’t mind if you fucked me to sleep. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept well.”

“I think she needs her clit played with.” More of her weight falls back on me, which alludes that’s exactly what he’s doing. “And she has to have it deeper, Pretty Boy.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” I chide, but doing exactly what he says. “Make sure you catch her…because she’s going to lose the feeling in her legs.”

Bay wraps both arms around my neck and tilts her head back, arching that out-of-this-world body into me. “Right there, Pretty Boy. That feels so fucking good.”

Her commentary only fuels me to do better, be better, a flurry of throbbing pleasure threatening to overtake me. “Reeve’s right…you’re fucking perfect, baby. And beautiful. Fucking sin wrapped in this morally wrong body that would make grown men like us do anything just to do this with you.”

Her lips fall to the stubble of my jaw, and she kisses every inch she can reach. “Keep talkin’ like that to me and I just may bend over at your every command, Wildes.”

“Pretty Boy,” I correct her, bowing my head so I can arrive at her lips. “It’s growin’ on me.”

I feel her smile against my mouth. “Pretty Boy.”

“Fuck me up and come on me, baby. I want to feel you squeeze around me and listen to you come when I’m inside you. Would make my whole fucking year.”

“Just your year?” I fasten my lips to hers, because it’d make my whole fucking life and that scares me. When have I ever felt like this with someone since growing a pair of balls and becoming my own man outside of who Emilio wanted me to be? And I’m afraid that’s going to kill me one day.

“Let’s keep doing this,” I whisper. “And we’ll keep tacking years on.”

Bay coaxes my mouth open wider as we fall back into something her and I can do very well. She can make out with me any day, time, or second, and I’ll give this woman anything she wants.

Her unsteady exhales fill my mouth, panting once again against me and moaning sweetness in my ears.

She’s close, and I’m about to explode, but that’s what her and I are.

I’m the dynamite, and she’s the fuse, and when lit, we’re a force so bright and powerful that no one can shatter it.

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