Bad Things(116)

He studied me, biting his lip. I tried to tug his head down to me, because I wanted to bite his lip, too, but he wouldn’t budge. “That’s a hard offer to turn down. It won’t be comfortable, not that I give a damn about that.”

I shook my head at him, my eyes wide. “I don’t give a damn either. I need your cock buried in my * like ten minutes ago.”

That has his eyebrows shooting into his hairline. “Aren’t you in a mood tonight? Normally I can’t pry the word * out of you.”

“I do hate that word, but it’s not bugging me so much tonight. *, *, *.”

“I love that word,” Frankie mused, shamelessly listening to our conversation. “I love any word that gets a visceral reaction, every time you use it out loud. *. Cunt. Fuck. Cock. Though it should be noted that the word cock is my least favorite of all of those.”

Tristan turned his head to look at her, smirking. “How come that doesn’t shock me?”

She snickered. “Here’s all I’m saying, everything about a woman can be pretty, from her feet to her ears, but the same can’t be said for a man.”

Tristan threw his head back and laughed, his hands rubbing my hips. I loved his throat. The sight of it stretched like that drove me wild. I pushed up so I could lick it, and then suck hard enough to leave a mark.

“I can’t argue with you there,” Tristan told Frankie. “I’m right there with you; team * all the way.”

I smacked his arm. “That sounds way too general for my taste.”

He laughed harder, pulling my face into his chest. “Okay. I’m team Danika’s * all the way. That better?”

I nodded, appeased at the conclusion to that ridiculous conversation.

“Go ahead, go screw in your car,” Frankie told us, her tone wry. “Don’t delay on my account. You’ve been making out in front of me for hours. Why get shy now?”

“Good point,” Tristan said, taking her suggestion, and ignoring her sarcasm. “Excuse us. We’ll be back in ten to fifteen minutes.”

Frankie’s grin turned rueful. “I wouldn’t go advertising that. It’s not exactly an endorsement.”

“I’ve never had any complaints,” was his parting shot as he tugged me out of my chair.

I felt giddy as we raced to his car, clutching hands and laughing.

“We’re going to get ourselves arrested,” Tristan muttered as he opened the back door of his car for me.

I just laughed harder, strangely uncaring of that possibility.

He crowded me into the car, and it was a tight fit, to put it lightly.

“Are you wet?” he asked, as he positioned me on my hands and knees, facing away from him. He began to peel my tiny jean shorts off.

“I’ve been wet since the moment you touched me.”

“Good,” he grunted, folding himself over my back, lining himself up at my entrance. “Tell me if I’m too rough. I need to f*ck you hard after all of that making out.”

I moaned loudly as he worked himself into me, his breath hot on my neck, coming out in fast pants as he invaded me.

“I need you, Danika. I’ve never needed anything like I need this.” Each word was drawn out and punctuated with a rough stroke. “I’ll never get enough of you. Never.”

It wasn’t his usual dirty talk, and his words fed so much more than my desire. I needed to hear these things, craved every little sign that he might be anywhere near as obsessed with me as I was with him.

His hands moved over the curves of my breasts, kneading softly at that aching flesh while pounding hard into the core of me. My nipples were puckered hard, and he pinched and then pulled them taut. It ached in a way that made me whimper in pleasure.

He rammed his huge, engorged length into me, hard and fast, keeping up an unrelenting pace that made me grip the door handle for dear life.

“Is it too much?” he rasped into my ear.

It was. It was so much, too much, his fast, brutal invasion stuffing me so full that I felt like I couldn’t take it for another second, but I’d never tell him that, never let him stop with the wonderful filling of me.

The sensations were so intense that I wasn’t sure if I was about to come or scream my head off.

Turns out, I did both.





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT





Three days later, we found ourselves at a house party for some friend of Jared and Frankie’s. It was a big house, and pure chaos, and the second we stepped in the door I wondered why I’d let myself be talked into it. I was tired. I hadn’t had a decent night of sleep in I didn’t even know how long, and house parties had never been my favorite. It always just tended to be the stoner way to party, since you had to hide that stuff in clubs and bars.