Icebreaker

Can she not just be very talented? And not be sucking someone’s dick?

Looking at her makes me want to be the funniest guy in the room, so I can be the one to make her laugh

“Make me.”

“Your choice.”

I’ll take you home and let you take out any remaining stress on my body?”

Gripping my shoulders, he spins me around to face him. His long finger nudging under my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gigantic height. When I think he can’t be any freaking cuter, he brushes my hair from my face and smiles at me

settle into his embrace and tilt my head back to look at him. He moves to peck a kiss to my forehead, and sure, I might feel a little better. “Hey, beautiful girl.”

I’m lost in angry, borderline murderous thoughts when two muscular arms wrap around my waist from behind, and I feel lips press gently against the crown of my head. Instantly knowing it’s Ryan, I

There’s a hand near my dick that isn’t mine.

She’s fast asleep, snoring loudly with her hand wrapped around my waist and tucked into the band of my boxers. I gently untuck and examine it—long fake nails, Cartier rings, and a Rolex strapped to her slender wrist.

Who the fuck is it?

I hate him. I really, really hate him.

I incoherently mumble something about ice and Russians as he strips us of our clothes until we’re both in our underwear. Ryan’s body would make a Greek god weep; tanned skin from his summer home in Miami, and a torso with more abs than I can count.

Forget a Greek god, it makes me want to weep.

Gripping my panties on each hip, he waits until I nod before slowly pulling them down my legs, throwing them behind him, and spreading my legs wide.

“Stas.”

“Yeah?”

His forehead creases. “Can Sabrina really hear my balls?”

the bed and climbs on top of me.

“How was your day?” he mumbles beneath my ear.

He always does this. He kisses me perfectly, positions his body between my legs, applies enough pressure to have me squirm, scrambles the thoughts in my head, and then asks me something mundane like how my day was.

The second I try to formulate a response, his fingers journey beneath my T-shirt, and he traces the curve of my jaw with his nose. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s buzzing, and he hasn’t even done anything yet. “It was, uh, uhm, fine, I, mhmm, skated…”

His body rocks as he laughs. “You mhmm skated? Sounds interesting. Why don’t you tell me more, Allen?”