Page 172 of King of Pain
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifts awkwardly on the couch and runs a hand through his hair.
“I’m not really hungry,” he says finally. “But I’ve got some microwave popcorn for the next movie?”
I blink. Chance turning down my food?
Something’s off.
Later, as the ending credits roll onThe Breakfast Club, Chance stands up and holds out his hand.
“Come with me.”
I slide my hand into his, letting him pull me up. He leads me silently down the hall, through his bedroom and into the master bathroom. He keeps the light low, then turns on the water and lets it warm. He leans back against the vanity with his eyes fixed on me.
“Undress.”
I gulp, nod slowly and start undressing. Heat blooms in my cheeks as he watches—his eyes wild, hungry. I look at him, then down at myself. “Why are you still dressed? Aren’t you coming in?”
“I will,” he says, voice low. “Just... get in first. I’ll be right in.”
I nod and step into the steam, the spray rushing over my shoulders and down my back. I close my eyes, trying to calm the anticipation curling inside me.
Suddenly, his arms surround me. Warm lips press softly to the back of my neck.
I spin, crashing my mouth to his. He returns my kiss, his tongue begging my lips for entry.
Fuck. How did I live without this?
I feel him harden against my thigh. My cock is hard as steel against his abs and I'm thrusting against him, chasing any friction I can get.
Chance grips my biceps, steadying me. “I’m going to show you something,” he murmurs against my lips.
I arch a brow. “I bet you are.”
He lets out a soft chuckle. “I’m going to show you... and it’s going toimplysomething, Ant. But you don’t have to follow through. Not unless you’re ready.”
My stomach flips. “O-okay.”
He turns slowly, placing his palms against the tile wall and pushing his hips back. And when I see it—what he’s showing me—it takes every ounce of strength I have not to come on the spot.
“Oh... holy shit.”
He glances back over his shoulder, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
“That’s why you’ve been fidgeting all day,” I breathe.
He huffs a small laugh and nods. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I didn’t want to pressure you.”
I step closer. My voice drops to a whisper. “Can I touch it?”
“God, yes. Please.”
I run my hands over his shoulders, down his sides, then curl them around to where the bottom of his full cheeks meets his thighs.
Fuck.
