Page 45 of Tempting Little Thief

There are a few with bunches of sagging skin stretched between hoop-like rings, two and three in a straight line down the shaft and others with a hook straight through the hole.

“Definitely not …”

My lips smash to the side, and I close my eyes, remembering.

The jewelry strained against the rubber jacket he suffocated it in, but it didn’t prevent the chill of the metal from shocking my heated center when he teased me with the tip …

The tip!

I try again

Dick head piercing.

My phone thinks for a second, and then a new image pops up.

My mouth drops open, and as I read the name of the piercing, I realize I knew what this one was, but damn. “Fuckingouch.”

It’s a Prince Albert, a curved barbell, almost like a hook, right through the piss hole.

Why the hell would anyone do that?

I begin reading the description, all the way down to the benefits, and okay. Now I get it.

I scroll back up to the photo examples, zooming in on the thick, proudly erect head of the dick on the screen.

“Good guess, but wrong.”

My phone falls to my chest, dagger between my fingers in a split second, but as my eyes slice to the window, and the familiar shadow looms there, I drop it.

My heart starts pounding, the adrenaline crashes back down and my head falls against the seat.

Jesus, Rocklin, wake the fuck up. You’d be dead already if it were anyone else.

Wait, what?

My muscles lock, the thought ghastly and unwelcome. I don’t even know this guy. He’s no more than a stranger who pops up when he wants and sends creepy texts, making me think he’s watching from god knows where, but heiswatching. He wouldn’t know when Damiano’s hands are on me if he wasn’t.

What would he do if I let Dom lay me down and climb on top of me?

Would he watch and whisper angry words later?

Burst in and bust thepretty boy’slip?

Or would he walk away and never look back?

“What’s the frown for, Rich Girl?”

The humor in his tone snaps me from my thoughts, and I glare straight ahead, but I do unlock the doors, pressing the button for the passenger one to open.

He doesn’t move for a full fifteen seconds, but then annoyingly slow, he curves around the back, my eyes popping up to the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse before pointing forward once more.

What are you doing, Rocklin?

This is everything your father has warned you about.

Maybe that’s exactly why I’m here, for a taste of rebellion. Maybe I’m more like my sister than I care to admit.

Bastian eases into the seat, nothing but the soft swish of his leather jacket heard as he does.

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