“Fuck, Colt. You moan the same way eating that sandwich as you do when I fuck you.”
“Beg your fucking pardon?” I rasp.
“Is it really that good?”
Noah makes a grab for it, and I pull the sandwich out of reach.
“Maybe you’re just that average,” I shoot back.
He smirks at me. Smirks. “That’s not it. Gimme a bite.”
“Fuck you,”