Page 58 of Call the Shots
“Can you call it sex if you lasted forty seconds?”
I ignored the sweep of embarrassment. “You cheated.”
“Uh, no, I won. Now you’re going to be my live-in maid.”
“You didn’t set the parameters for the bet, I didn’t know I couldn’t touch you. I didn’t know I’d get muzzled. And you—you—” I gestured towards her, frustrated. “You did it to fuck with me.”
“And you got to cum in something other than your sock. You’re welcome.”
“I can eat pussy,” I insisted. “I can fuck great.”
“And cum in forty seconds.”
“You didn’t give me a chance!”
“I riled you up this time, huh?” She set her salad aside, oozing with smug satisfaction. “Thanks for making my day. I’ll let you know when we’ll tell your brother. I’m thinking in public with a lot of breakable stuff around.”
I scoffed. “When is this getting through your head? He doesn’t care about you. If what you said is true—he cheated, right? So he didn’t give a shit about you either way.”
“You can’t hurt me, you’re just mad you couldn’t last a minute.”
I strode over, grabbing the arms of her chair, yanking her to me. “I want a fair match.”
“To beat your record and cum infiftyseconds?”
Blood pounded in my ears. “We’re redoing the bet.”
“Why would I? Watching you spiral like this is way more fun.”
“Fine. This isn’t for the fucking bet.”
I grabbed her by the waist bringing her to the floor, hands locked on her hips, pressing her to me, her heat against my cock, so fucking hard it put an ache in my back. June arched when she felt it, a gasp bursting out of her.
I rocked her hips, letting her feel my full length through my pants. “That’s what you’re missing out on.”
“Already had it,” she panted. “Forty seconds.”
June could try to piss me off, I didn’t care. I was finally on the path to satisfaction. “Fuck, you feel so good,” I muttered.
“Your boner is jutting against me,” she shot back.
“Ah, shit, sorry about that.” I shrugged down my hockey pants until my boxers were the only thing holding back my hard-on, pressing it against her. “Is that better?”
June made an adorable noise at the back of her throat. “Maybe—maybe for you?—”
“You fucking love this.”
“Please, June,” she mocked. “Pleeeease, June?—”
“Easy there, killer. You’re the one lying on the floor.”
“I told you not to call me that?—”
“It works so well, doesn’t it? You deserve the Ruthless title, not Elijah.” I peeled off her gray joggers, bringing goosebumps to her skin. “Which is why it’ll be so good when you’re worshipping my cock?—”
“You’ll want a big round of applause after meeting fifty seconds?—”
“I’m eating you out and then fucking you missionary and you’re going to kiss me like?—”
