I’ve never seen a man tell his four-way partners to fuck off mid-bang before, but 33D fucking does it. Somehow, I doubt it’ll be the last impressive sight of tonight. Watching him stand there, naked and too fucking gorgeous for words, I still feel my frustration at him bubbling in my chest like a pot of water boiling over.

But seeing him like that—cocky, erect, muscular, and so handsome I could die—it’s easy to forget what I came up here for in the first place.

Vaguely, I recall being pissed off at him.

It’s a start.

“You’re a fucking dick.”

I point my finger at him for emphasis. Immediately I wish I hadn’t. Because when my eyes track to where that finger is pointing…

It become pretty obvious to both of us that my eyes are focused on his big, thick cock.

“Not yet I’m not.”

He doesn’t even look at the French girls currently gathering up their little black dresses and cursing at him en français as they trek out the door.

“But bring that sweet little cunt over here…and I could be.”

I hate to admit it. I don’t want to admit it.

But when he talks to me like that…

My pussy throbs.

I swallow and try not to think about swallowing his cock. With my mouth, or my cunt, or—fuck, I’d even let him take my ass with a dick that gorgeous.

It’s like when someone tells you not to think about elephants—you immediately start to think about elephants. The heat building between my legs makes it hard to think straight—unless I’m thinking about how I want to launch myself pussy-first straight at his dick.

I’m trying to remember what the fuck I came up here for to begin with, but as I take a step forward—a step that he matches—the only thing I can focus on is the elephant in the room.

He might be a dick, but he’s a dick I want to ride.

Desperately.

“You’re fucking noisy,” I say, briefly recalling my argument as I take another step forward.

On my way up here, I had this all planned out perfectly in my head. Every beat. Every scathing point.

Now, I’m just walking towards him, licking my lips and trying to piece it all together, when all I really want? For him to rip this sweater to shreds and fucking take me already.

He smirks in response. “I could be louder.”

“You’re a horny fucking bastard.”

“Damn right I am, sweetheart.”

“I bet you fuck any woman who throws herself at you.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you try it and find out?”

I stop, maybe a foot away from him. Maybe less.

“You’ve been keeping me up all night for years, asshole.”

I’m fucking shaking, and I don’t know if it’s from rage or lust, or if I just confused my brain so hard I’m having a gentle fucking seizure.

Apart from the shaking, though, I don’t even move.

I don’t trust myself to.

But 33D doesn’t seem to have any problem with closing the gap.

“You wanna know something, 32?”

He runs his thumb across my lower lip, turning my chin up at him, and I feel my breath catch in my throat.

I just stare at him. If I have words, they’re not coming out right now.

“You’ve been keeping me up all night, too,” he says.

And that’s all there’s left to say.

He kisses me. It’s the kind of kiss that’ll probably leave bruises on my lips come morning. I fucking want it to.

The next time he’s having rough, loud sex over my bed late at night, I want to be able to touch the tenderness on my lips and remember how he felt. But the bruises don’t end there.

As his tongue darts into my mouth, his hands claim my body next. His fingers curl around one wrist, around my throat. He claims my tongue with his while he captures my neck.

And that’s when I know.

The next time he’s having rough sex over my bed late at night, it’s because I’m in his bed beneath him. If he wants to be loud while he fucks over me…

Fuck figuratively. He might as well be literally be fucking me over.

He doesn’t rip my sweater to shreds, but he does pull it over my head before he even bothers to ask what I want. I’m fucking grateful for that. Anyone else, the courtesy would’ve been nice…

But I don’t want him to be a nice man right now.

I want him to be every bit of the loud, dirty jackass I came up here to bitch out.

“You’re a real piece of work,” I snarl at him as he tosses my sweater across the room.

“Yeah?” he challenges me.

His fingers dart between my legs before I have a chance to think of something clever to say back at him.

“Well, you’re a mouthy fucking whore. Little slut didn’t think to put on panties before she came up here, huh?”

Despite myself, my hips buck against him. They’re not under my control anymore—they’re at his mercy.

“Fuck” is all I have to say about that.

“Christ,” he swears. “You’re fucking smooth, too. Fresh shave, kitten?”

His fingers twitch at my clit, and—god. I purr for him. I abso-fucking-lutely purr.

“Daddy likes that,” he purrs back.

Then he picks me up. One arm wrapped around my waist, one hand on my clean-shaven cunt. His fingers slip right inside me as he does it, stroking against my G-spot and making me moan. I’m already halfway to an orgasm by the time he tosses me onto the bed.

“I fucking hate you,” I spit as I spread my legs for him.

That just makes him laugh.

“Oh, honey. I bet you do.” He prowls toward me, cock in hand. “Let’s see if we can’t change that tune.”