Page 188 of King of Pain
I pull out the rest of the albums and burst out laughing at what I find.
At the bottom of the box is a piece of clothing I haven’t seen in years. I pull it out, shake it open, and hold it up.
The jersey Jen made me wear to Ant’s game, complete with his name and number across the back.
Under it? That ridiculous ‘80s crop top Lexi gifted me, and my favorite Depeche Mode hat. It’s black with the white DM stitched across the front. I grin like a fool, toss the hat and jersey on the bed, and head straight to my dresser.
A few seconds of digging in the top drawer, and—bingo!
He’s not ready for this.
I rip off my shirt, jeans, and briefs, and head straight to the shower for a quick scrub. Once dry, I tug the jersey over my head. It hangs loose, familiar, and perfect. Hat goes on next—backwards, of course.
Now, the finishing touch: I step into a black jockstrap I’ve never worn before.
It’s not your standard issue athletic supporter.
It’s more… after-party couture.
I move the boxes to the floor, then climb onto the bed, facing the headboard.
On all fours. Knees wide. Back arched.
Waiting.
I call out over my shoulder, “Hey, Ant… can you come here for a minute?”
I hear his voice from the kitchen. “Be right there.”
I face forward. Count the seconds.
Then…
“What did you need—oh, holy shit!”
The energy shift in the room is immediate and palpable.
I don’t even need to see his face to know.
Possessive Ant has come out to play.
A low, primal growl works its way out of his chest. I flash a wicked grin over my shoulder. “What are you waiting for, baby? You know you want to fuck me with your name on my back.”
He’s already stripping off his shirt and unfastening the buttons on his jeans. “Oh, I’m so going to own this ass.”
I drop my head between my arms, spine curving deeper as I arch my back—showing off my best asset.
And I wait.
Smack.
I throw my head back on a groan. “Fuck, baby, do that again—”
Crack.
Both cheeks sting as he snaps the band of my jock, right where it hugs the small of my back. Then he smooths his hands up my spine to my shoulders. He leans in, kissing the corner of my mouth, then the spot just below my ear. His palms shift to wrap around my throat, fingers locking gently as he squeezes.
Releasing me, he grabs the bill of my cap and flings it somewhere across the room. His fingers comb through my hair, grip two fistfuls, and pull me back until I feel his cock press between my cheeks. My own dick slaps against my abs, leaking in anticipation.
