I want her.
There’s nothing left to say.
Chugging her beer, Taylor turns around so her back is facing me and rubs her ass on my body. My dick grows even harder, digging into her. She’s doing this to torture me. To taunt me. This is all part of some sick master plan to drive me insane. It has to be.
Taylor drops to the floor, low enough that I get a pleasant view of her ass. She has some serious moves, and she sure knows how to work her killer curves. Every once in a while, she peeks over her shoulder at me. It drives me fucking wild. My cock lengthens with each movement she makes, every look she gives me.
I will have the worst case of blue balls if she doesn’t let me bend her over. I have to fuck her. Need to be inside her. But then those memories of the past come flooding back, forcing me to push the bad thoughts away. It happens every time. No matter how hard I try to overcome that terrible incident, I can’t get past it.
Judging by the look in Taylor’s eyes, she wants me to touch her back. So, why am I acting like a pussy? My hand is at my side, the other tipping the beer to my lips as I watch Taylor do what she wants to me.
I lean forward to whisper in her ear, and she stills from my breath on her skin. “Keep grinding on my dick like that, and I’ll show you what I do to bad girls.”
Taylor stops shaking her ass and tilts her head back so that our eyes meet. “Is that a threat?”
Moving my hand to her hip, I pull her into my chest. “It’s whatever you want it to be.”
She smiles. “Sounds like a challenge.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to get you.”
Naked, I leave out.
“You want me, work for it,” she counters.
Game on, baby. Game on.
Chapter 6
Taylor
On our way home from The Sixth Floor, Drake stops at McDonald’s for me. I don’t make a habit of eating junk food, but it’s the only place open this late at night. I’m starving, the beer now going straight to my head as my stomach churns from hunger.
Drake reaches across the center console and shoves his hand into my bag to grab some fries.
“Hey.” I slap his hand, but he sneaks a fistful of fries, anyway.
He laughs as he chews, his eyes fixed on the road in front of us. “I’d rather eat yours.” Drake licks the salt from his full lips and then glances over at me with an evil look in his eyes. “I’d rather eat you,” he adds, ripping a gasp from my throat.
Oh. My. God.
Rolling my bag to keep the food from getting cold, I peek over at Drake. “What is wrong with you? Do you think about anything other than sex?”
“I think about hockey,” he counters. “I’m thinking about you right now.”
My heart slams so hard into my chest it feels as though it’s trying to escape. With every fiber of my being, I want to hate him. I should avoid him as much as possible. So, why does he keep producing this strange reaction within me?
“You look hot,” he admits. “I like that outfit on you.”
“Thanks, I guess. I don’t know what to make of you, Drake Donovan. You’re such a dirty boy.”
Shit, why did I just say that?
I turn my head away from him to look out the window, but he slides his hand beneath my chin to pull my gaze back to his. His touch is so sensual that the way his fingers glide along my skin and sends shivers down my arms.
He rolls his tongue along his bottom lip. “I’d like to show you just how dirty I could get.”
“Drake.” I push his hand away from my face. “This is not happening.”
