My phone buzzes on the table. Revan’s name flashes across the screen.
I ignore it.
“You should answer that,” Lexi says, but she’s already reaching for me, her fingers curling into the front of my shirt.
I cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. Her skin is soft, warm, and I can feel her pulse jumping under my touch.
“Probably.” But she’s pulling me down, and when our mouths meet it’s all heat and hunger.
“I bet your cunt is aching.”
She hums against my lips.
The phone buzzes again. And again.
Fuck Revan.
I kiss her harder, one hand sliding into her hair, the other finding her waist. She makes this sound—half gasp, half moan—that does something to my brain. Makes me want to hear it again, louder.
She pulls back just enough to breathe. “Bedroom?”
I lick my lips.
“And only my pussy this time.”
The foreplay is slow, deliberate. I take my time peeling my shirt off her body, revealing skin inch by inch like I’m unwrapping something precious. She shivers when my fingers trail down her spine, arching into my touch.
“Cold?” I murmur against her neck.
“No.” Her voice is breathy, shaking. “Not cold.”
I bite down gently where her shoulder meets her neck and she gasps, nails digging into my shoulders. The pain is good—sharp and grounding.
“You like that?” I kiss the spot, then bite again, harder.
“Yes.” The word comes out strangled.
My phone is still buzzing in the other room, Revan’s persistence bleeding through the walls. But it’s background noise, irrelevant compared to the way Lexi’s breathing changes when I touch her, the way her body responds to mine.
I map every inch of her with my hands, my mouth, learning what makes her tremble and what makes her moan. She’s responsive, reactive, and watching her come undone is better than any high I’ve chased.
When I finally push into that pretty cunt, she arches off the bed, eyes rolling back. I set a rhythm that’s slow at first, torturous, watching her face as pleasure builds.
“Atticus—” My name on her lips sounds like a prayer and a curse.
“Look at me.”
She does, those brown eyes hazy and desperate, and I lose myself in the connection.
Later, when we’re both spent and breathing hard, she curls against my side. Her fingers trace patterns on my chest, following the lines of my tattoos.
“I need a shower,” she says eventually.
“Go on then.”
She slides out of bed, grabbing the shirt from the floor and pulling it on. I watch her disappear down the hall, listen to the water start running.
My phone buzzes again. I finally grab it, seeing seventeen missed calls from Revan.
