Page 58 of Wrong Pucking Player

I know that in my very bones.

I won’t be satisfied until my cock has fucked her mouth, pussy, and ass enough times that she remembers my circumference.

Maybe she’d see the tattoo hidden beneath the grown hairs.

The thought makes me want to shave it all so she can see the hidden gem along the base of my shaft. It really excites me to think of the opportunity and how it would play out.

“That’s your punishment, Xandra,” I can’t help but whisper when I break the kiss and lightly leave a peck on the edge of her nose.

“P-Punishment?” She looks surprised and lost.

“For worrying me,” I begin and deeply add, “And letting another man take care of you.”

I’m expecting her to argue or revolt against my claim, but instead, she rolls her eyes.

“I can’t control such situations,” she huffs.

“You can control how other men respond to your presence.” I sound like a possessive asshole.

No.

I am a possessive asshole.

The only difference now is I’m making it known.

“Oh, really?” There’s that defiant glint in her eyes. My girl loves to argue with me. “What? Want me to wear a garbage bag next time I go running, Cyrus Jr.?”

I pout my lips at the idea, but then again, it would cover her sexy body, so only I get to enjoy the fruits of her labor.

Fucked up, but man, if she’s wearing these sexy cute gym outfits, the guys would have hard-ons all fucking day.

Like me.

I can already hear that Taylor Swift song playing in the background in this moment of confrontation.

It’s me.

I.

I’m the problem.

It’s pucking me.

“If it means no one else gets to enjoy the sight of you, then yes.”

The way she smiles at that makes my heart skip a few beats. It only further encourages heart palpitations when she leans in enough to brush her lips along mine while her hand somehow manages to press against my hardness. My whole body is rigid in seconds, just as she leans further over to whisper in my ear.

“Unless you plan to claim me, Wyatt Cyrus, I’m going to flaunt my booty gains, my thick thighs, my grapefruit breasts, and anything else that catches the male population’s attention,” she declares without a hint of remorse. “So, fuck off.”

Damn.

I can’t even argue with her.

Because that was fucking hot.

It’s official.

I’m the ‘bottom’ in this relationship.

---