Page 99 of That's Too Pucking Bad

“Fine,” she whispers, crawling into my lap.

She straddles my thigh, her hands gripping my shoulders as she grinds against me.

“Fuck, Remy,” I breathe, watching the way her head tilts back, her mouth falling open.

She’s a goddamn mess, and I can’t look away.

“Zane,” she whines, her movements growing frantic. “It’s not—”

She cuts herself off with a frustrated groan.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice low.

“I’m not coming likethis,” she blurts, her cheeks flushed.

I bite back a laugh. “That’s ‘cause you’re doing it wrong.”

Her eyes snap to mine, glaring. “Help me.”

I hesitate for half a second before I flip her onto her back, spreading her legs and dropping to my knees.

“You want help?” I say, my voice rough. “I’ve got you.”

She gasps as I tug her panties down and lean in, my mouth on her before she can argue.

“Holy shit,” she moans, her hands fisting in the sheets. Her voice turns high pitched as she tries to crawl away from me. I tug her back to my mouth as she pants.

I take my time, teasing her until she’s writhing, her thighs trembling against my shoulders.

“Zane,” she cries out, her voice breaking.

“Come on, baby,” I murmur, my tongue flicking against her clit.

She arches off the bed, her whole body shuddering as she falls apart, her cries echoing in the small room.

When it’s over, she collapses, her chest rising and falling, her eyes barely open.

“I think I love you,” she whispers, her voice soft and slurred.

I freeze.

Her eyes flutter shut, and within seconds, she’s out cold.

I sit back, staring at her like she’s just dropped a bomb in the middle of the room.

She loves me?

What the fuck do I do with that?

I don’t sleep.

She’s sprawled out on her bed, her hair a mess, face relaxed, completely oblivious. She said she loves me.

Lovesme.

The word keeps bouncing around my head like a fucking puck in an overtime shootout, and I can’t stop it.

No one’s ever said that to me. Well, meant it, anyway.

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