Page 43 of Bite Your Tongue

The corner of my lips turns up, and I wink. “If it were an outline of my dick, we both know you would have been in the chair much longer, babe. Besides, why would I need a tattoo of my dick? I get to look at it every day. And, yes, I realize how blessed that makes me.”

“Do you always have to ruin a nice moment?” she says, rolling her eyes just before looking at my tattoo. “Maine looks good on you too, you know.”

I nod once, attempting to look at my upper arm. “Maine has been good to me. Seemed right, I guess.”

Her eyes dart from my arm to my face, and she tilts her chin up, looking at me. “It screams obsessed, you know. Agreeing to get a matching tattoo with me. You must have wanted to match me for the rest of your life.” Her shoulders shrug, and her grin widens. “But what can I say? I’m pretty damn flattered, Pretty Boy.”

I have the urge to pull her against me and kiss her until she’s breathless, but I refrain. There’s something deep inside of me that swells with pride though. Because for the rest of our lives, no matter where she ends up, she’ll look down at her arm and know that I chose it for her. Maybe one day, she’ll hate that this outline of a state on her skin connects us, but I know I never will.

I’m just holding on for as long as I can, even if it’s only as her friend. Because a friend is still better than nothing at all.

We walk into Saylor’s apartment, and the Christmas tree lights up the dark room, giving me a sense of nostalgia even though this has been the most untraditional Christmas I’ve ever experienced.

“Want to watch a Christmas movie?” She smiles. “I’ll let you choose between my three favorites. Oh, and don’t make fun of me when I come out with Christmas pajamas on.”

“Sounds good,” I say, but quickly shrug my shoulders. “Or you could put your pussy on my face and let me eat.”

The second the words leave my lips, Saylor shoots me a harsh glare.

“Ryder, what the fuck?” she blurts out, walking into the kitchen and pushing her finger on the list on the refrigerator. “You saw this list, you idiot. It says,Go on a proper date, one that doesn’t end with sex!”

She becomes madder with each word she yells at me, and that only makes my cock grow harder.

I fucking love it when she’s sassy.

Taking a few steps toward her, I brush my thumb against her bottom lip. “It says sex, Brat. It doesn’t say I can’t bury my face between your thighs.” I bring her lips to mine, kissing her roughly. “Are you going to let me eat my Christmas dessert or what?” I kiss her again, pulling her lip between my teeth. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure I fuck your throat nice andproper.Ifyou’re a good girl, I’ll even choke you with my dick. I know how turned on you get from that.”

I swear she gasps, and her eyes gloss over in pure want. She wants to suck on my cock, and she sure as hell wants me to eat her pussy.

“It’s going to make things more difficult,” she hisses. “We’re friends. Friends don’t suck each other’s dick or bury their face between each other’s thighs. You’re making this into exactly what I’m trying to avoid.”

“Tell me something, Brat,” I growl, pulling her mouth closer to mine. “Do you like to come?”

She narrows her eyes, unimpressed. “Who doesn’t?”

“And will you admit, my fat tongue feels so much better than those toys you talk about having?” I lift my brows. “You know I know how to use it, babe.”

“I mean, my toys do a nice job—”

“Be. Honest,” I hiss. “No point in bullshitting me. I’ve heard your sweet moans.”

“Fine,” she sighs. “You do okay.”

She shifts around, avoiding eye contact and blushing so hard that her cheeks look like they might literally melt off.

“I do okay?” I say, tilting my head forward, giving her a challenging look. “I dookay?” I shrug, forcing myself to yawn as I take a few steps back. “You know, if I just do okay, I think I should take my okay self and head on to bed. You don’t need my tongue to come on.”

Just as I start to turn away, she grabs my hand.

“Fine! Fine. You do … really well.”

I stare blankly at her, keeping my eyes narrowed. “Really well? Or great?”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, you do great. Happy now?”

“Would you say my tongue is—oh, I don’t know—magical?” I drawl, smirking at her darkly. When she doesn’t respond rightaway, I tilt my chin up playfully. “Go on, Brat. Tell me, do you feel the magic when I eat your pussy?”

She squeezes her eyes closed for a second before peeking up at me again. “Yes,” she huffs out. “It’s magical, okay?”

---