Page 71 of Branded
He grinned, and I could feel the same stupid grin on my face.
Okay, his wasn’t stupid, just a bit dopey. Much like how my own felt, and okay, that wasn’t the point, but I had a lot of points floating around in my brain, not the least of which was me thinking that I really just wanted him to kiss me again because he was fucking good at it.
Oh, and also, I was closer to an orgasm from one of Smitty’s kisses, from him holding me, than I’d ever been with any of the men who’d been inside me.
Oh…and he also felt really great pressed up against me.
Oh…and…I was seriously considering desk sex.
We’d already done the locker room thing, maybe it was time for?—
He shifted, pressing into me a little harder, making my breath catch and a wave of need wobble through me. “But we’re going to do a lot of other things, too.”
“I thought we were just going to be friends.”
His hands—one cupping my ass, one threaded through my hair—tightened. “Oh, little bird,” he said with a smirk. “We’re going to be friends. Really good friends.” The hand on my ass slid down. In. “Best friends who do lots and lots of things together.”
“Yeah?” I countered.
His head dipped, mouth coming closer, and my lips parted immediately. “Yeah?”
I couldn’t resist asking, “Do friends kiss?”
“My best friend and I do,” he murmured huskily.
“Oh, I didn’t know that you and Raph kissed,” I said, going for breezy. “That’s hot.”
His lids, which had slowly been sinking closed—presumably giving in to the same desire that was relentlessly drawing me down—flew open, and those deep brown eyes locked onto mine, humor flickering across the depths. “You’re sassy, little bird.”
My head tilted to the side. “Not normally.”
A grin.
“You’re sassy with me.” He seemed proud of that fact.
I bit my lip. “Yeah,” I agreed.
His mouth curved, that beard twitching. “Fuck,” he said, confirming my thoughts. “I really love that you’re sassy with me, little bird.”
“You don’t want me quiet and compliant?” It was said jokingly, but my relationship with my dad meant that a small part of me did wonder if men wanted that.
“God, no.” He shuddered. “Give me the sass and the fire. Give me everything, little bird.”
“You keep calling me that,” I murmured. “Why?”
“Why little bird?”
A nod.
“That’s for me to know and not you.”
My lips pressed flat. “What if I peck your eyes out?” I asked tartly. “Would you like it then?”
His mouth turned up, just at the edges. “Depends.”
“On what?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“On whether or not you’re touching my dick when you do that.”
