Page 60 of Finance Bros

“Go for it,” I say. “As long as you don’t try to leave this beanbag.”

He slides his hand down further, to my ass, then he lets it rest where my thigh meets the cheek. He cups it and gives it a squeeze. I grin.

“That was it?” I ask when nothing else happens.

“That was it.”

“You don’t wanna try anything else?”

“I think I should stop here.”

“Why’s that?” I ask, because if there’s anything I don’t want it’s for him to stop. I feel like we’ve made it across a desert and we’re just now seeing water. It’d be a shame not to take a long, indulgent drink of it. Right?

“I’m pretty fucking hard, too,” he says.

“That’s why I asked if you’re sure you wanna stop.”

More curiously, he asks, “What else can I do?”

My heart picks up its pace. My brain spins through fantasyafter fantasy. All relatively tame for someone who’s been sexually active since fourteen, but this is new territory. “Wanna kissmyneck?”

“Do you want me to?”

“If you want to.”

“Um…” He hesitates. “I’ll try it.”

Elated, I move my head, and with the hand I’ve still got on his face, I bring him in. The second his wet lips meet my skin, I groan. “Whoa.”

He jerks away, but I grip him by the nape of the neck and pull him back. An “umph” sound escapes when he makes contact again, but then his mouth is opening and sucking skin, which is way more than I did, but now I have more regrets to stack on the pile.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Damn. That feels really good.” I’ve got something new to say with each kiss, it turns out. It’s probably annoying, but I can’t stop. “Ryan. Yeah. Shit. Mm…”

He moves a hand up my back, over my shoulder and presses it into my right pec. I press back, liking that, too. He gives it a squeeze, and I make another stupid sound. My dick is buried underneath him, somewhere in the beanbag chair, but I’m thrusting and grinding, regardless. “It’d be so embarrassing if I came like this.”

“Mmhm,” he agrees, squeezing my ass again and sucking at another spot on my neck.

“Are you anywhere close?” I ask, hips pumping away at the chair.

“It’s your turn to shut up, Mal.”

“I’m trying,” I say, meaning it.

“I’m gonna move now.”

“No,” I groan, trying to hold him in place, but he’s lifting his leg and letting go of me. I grab for him, but he keeps moving. I roll onto my back to find him and get a better hold on him, draghim back, but he’s a step ahead of me, already between my opening legs and kneeling on the floor.

“Yeah?” I ask, nearly exploding in my pants at the sight of him like that—forme.

He nods, and I open my pants faster than I’ve ever done anything in my life. Either he doesn’t trust me to go through with it, or he wants this as much or more than I do, but he’s got his hand inside my underwear as soon as the waistband is exposed, pulling out my cock and leaning in.

To my utter mortification, but not surprise, I come the second his lips are around me and his tongue hits flesh. “Fuck, oh, fuck…oh mygod…”

I don’t recognize my voice, but the whine that comes out of me as he goes ahead and sucks me into his mouth anyway, swallowing my gushing cum and sucking and lickingeverywhere—goddamn making out with my dick—isn’t human. I yell his name, and I think I might growl, too, but the aftershocks buzzing through me go from excruciating to insanely good over the space of about fifteen bobs of his head, and I swear to God, I’m gonna die right here in this beanbag chair with Stephanie watching.

When I open my eyes, I see my hand in his hair, his eyes on me, and his lips red and swollen as they slide up and down my slick cock.

“What’s it like?” I pant.

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