Page 83 of The Stud

“Because I worked at it.” Both palms land on her hips to tug her in front of me. “And will continue to work at it.” She lovingly tangles her arms around my neck, an action that inspires me to lift her up once again by the ass. “However, I do have a few rules of my own, for this negotiation sesh, babe.”

Her ankles cross along the small of my back the instant there’s enough space to. “I’m listening.”

“Withbothears?”

She snickers at the teasing prior to sassing, “I amnow.”

“Rule one? We resume me cooking for usimmediately.Becks does not at all appreciate my impressive cauldron boil, boil toil and trouble skills.”

“Stick taps on the silky mitted Shakespeare wordplay.”

“Macbethwasseven down on my crossword yesterday.”

To my surprise, one set of Arden’s fingers run through the hair along the back of my neck on a quiet confession, “I missed doing those with you, Hamster Boy.”

“I missed them being done with you, Ducky.”

Our mouths steal a minor moment to brush against one another’s locking in a much sweeter, softer nature than they did last night.

This time it isn’t about setting the tone for what’s to come so much as appreciating the one that’s already here.

Gently gliding my tongue once against her receives a whimper and tighter gripping while twice is rewarded with an eager moan and a bit of tugging.

Epositogivemefuckingstrength.

We don’t really have time for a quickie.

Not even if we could somehow pack and fuck at the same time.

Pulling back to finish our convo effortlessly bumps its way up the list of difficult plays I’ve had to execute. “Rule two? We canoccasionallygo on real dates in public where the media is unlikely to see us together. I understand we have to be cautious – dare I sayextremelycautious given how buying a tie next to the wrong broadskie earns me a wheeling style headline; however, I wanna show you off whenever I’m able to.”

Arden reluctantly nods. “Fine.”

“Rule Three?”

“Add a fourth and this is over before we even board the plane.”

“Youonlywear my number.”

The quirked brow encourages me to continue.

“I don’t give a shite what the event is…if you’re wearing a number itwillbe mine.”

“Whistle on the play.”

“For?”

“An unnecessary rule.”

It’s my turn to lift my brows in curiosity.

“I already only wear your number.” Her hands flirtatiously slide down the front of my bare chest as she wiggles herself back to the ground. “And sometimes…justyour number.”

“That,” I needily groan. “I wantthatwhenever I’m over at your place or you’re over at mine and clothes have to be worn.”

“What did I say about more than three rules?”

“It’s anamendmentto number three.”

---