Page 100 of You're so Bad

The corners of my mouth lift, and I lean in to press a kiss to his tight jaw. “Wait until you hear what we’re going to be giving them.”

I tell him as we dispose of our trash.

“Wicked of you,” he says as we head back to The Clay Place. “I approve.”

“I thought you would.”

We duck through the curtain to the back, and he watches as I get the wheel out and then retrieve a wrapped block of clay from the metal storage container beneath my worktable.

“Rafe’s important to you, isn’t he? I can tell when people are close.”

“Sure. He’s the best friend who hasn’t screwed me over yet.” I glance up from what I’m doing. “You know, I think he likes you despite himself.”

“That’s something I’m familiar with,” he says with a wry laugh. “I’m going to do my damnedest to make sure he keeps liking me despite himself.”

“So you won’t be making him any clay dicks?”

“I don’t have a death wish, no.”

When I get done laughing, I direct him to sit on the chair I’ve set up beside the wheel. When I lower into his lap, he says into my ear, “I think I’m gonna like this lesson.”

“Hopefully we won’t break your dick in half. That would be hard for you to see on a psychological level.”

“You’re right,” he says. “I’m already fucked up enough.”

I elbow him in the ribs. “I’m the only one who gets to be mean to you.”

He laughs softly and kisses the back of my neck, sending hot shivers through me.

I guide him in placing the clay in the center of the wheel and show him how to move his hands, supporting his elbows on his legs. It’s sensual in a way I hadn’t anticipated, feeling our fingers locked together around the clay, his body surrounding me, his lips on my neck and his breath in my ear.

He insists on adding veins after we’ve finished turning it for ‘heightened realism.’

When we’re done, we stand back to study our masterpiece.

I nudge him with my shoulder. “It is, as advertised, a foot-tall clay dick.Yourfoot-tall clay dick.”

“Is it supposed to be lopsided?” he asks, angling his head to study it from a different direction.

“Your dick does have a slight curve to it,” I tease. “So we we’re just being accurate.”

“Hey, now.” He bumps me with his shoulder. “Don’t be sassing me about something like that.”

“Didn’t say I didn’t like it,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around him. “It hits all the right places.”

I reach up and touch those laughter lines around his eyes as he says, “Damn right it does.”

He leans in to kiss me, but then his phone goes off in the pocket of his shorts.

He shrugs as he takes it out. “I kept the ringer on just in case—”

He doesn’t need to finish that sentence for two reasons—one, I know how it ends—in case Reese calls—and two, I see the name on his screen.

He looks up at me, and I can see the fear layered under the excitement in his eyes. I don’t have to ask why. There’s a possibility it’s not Reese on the other end of the phone. It could be a person who found him and called the last number he’d dialed. It could be his foster father, trying to figure out where he’s been and what he’s done.

Reese could be hurt, or dead.

I give Leonard a squeeze as he reaches to answer the call, his hand shaking.

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