Why did I agree to this?

I’ve broken up with this guy once already, in what were the worst five minutes of my life.

So why did I agree to meet him? Because I, Amelia Constance Ryan, am a glutton for punishment and cannot get Dante Amado out of my damn mind. Is it crazy that he’s all I can think about?

I’m dying to see him.

He’s got me longing for things I didn’t know I wanted, and now I completely understand why my sister dates around.

It’s been fun. And sexy. And a whirlwind.

Dante is great, and I like who I am when I’m with him.

It’s true, we didn’t spend that much time laughing, but to say there was no chemistry is a lie.

I was instantly attracted to someone my sister is dating and I hate it. I’ve never been jealous of her, but I’m jealous now, and I’m an idiot because I walked here, knowing he would be forced to drive me home at the end of this farce.

Does that make me a terrible human being?

Or just human?

He’s easy to find when I walk in, hovering near the door, waiting—for me. Dante straightens to his full height when he sees me. I’m bundled up in my coat because it’s insanely cold out, and he smiles at the sight of it.

He smiles at the sight of me.

I blush despite myself, beginning the process of unbuttoning the navy blue wool jacket, the toggles pulling free one by one.

It slides off like a robe, falls out of my hands and onto the floor.

Dash and I both bend to grab it at the same time but he beats me to it. We rise slowly, eyes connecting. Faces inches apart.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself.”

“Thanks for meeting me here.”

“Uh, sure.” I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear, nervous about what to expect. “I didn’t think I’d hear from you again after I broke up with you.”

“Did you though?” His smile is pleasant, placating in an almost patronizing way.

“Are you trying to make me lose my mind? Because I remember our conversation very clearly, and we broke up, so I guess I’m confused about why you want to see me again.”

Holy shit—what if he’s some roid-rager, or a psycho who’s going to start stalking my sister?

“I’m not trying to make you think you’re losing your mind. I’m just questioning whether or not it was you that broke up with me.”

I sigh. Some guys have such fragile egos. “I’m okay with you telling people you’re the one who broke up with me. That’s fine, however you wanna do it.”

“You’re totally missing my point.” He winks, lips twisting into a grin—a smirk, really—eyes shining with mirth.

Something about the way he’s observing me makes my stomach take a nosedive, and I actually lay my hand over my abdomen, pressing down to quell my nerves—to no avail.

Dante begins the short walk between us. Now he’s standing directly in front of me, hands reaching to grasp my wrists, gently stroking with his thumbs. I glance down between our bodies, at our joined hands, then back up again.

“Dante, we broke up.” I can barely choke out the words.

His dark gaze coolly assesses me. “Did we?”

He is going to make me insane.

Under the circumstances, I absolutely shouldn’t be here tonight, shouldn’t be seeing him again, the many reasons so numerous I can’t resist tallying them up in my mind:

1. He was my sister’s boyfriend
2. The boyfriend I broke up with for her
3. While pretending to be her
4. And ended up liking him
5. A lot
6. With a stupid amount of lust thrown in for good measure
7. He makes me crazy
8. I can’t stop thinking about him
9. God, look at him staring at me
10. He was my sister’s boyfriend

“I reserved us the dartboard in back but we’re going to make this quick.”

For real, he still wants to go through the motions of playing darts? Is this guy unhinged? I’m his ex-girlfriend!

“Uh, okay.”

“You throw one and I’ll throw one, then we can leave.”

My eyes narrow doubtfully. “You brought me here to shoot one dart? Is this some kind of ploy to get back together? Because it’s not going to work.”

Dante busies himself by opening the container of darts, laying two on the table. “I have no intention of getting back together with Lucy.”

I cross my arms, slightly irritated he’s going through so much effort to win my sister back. “Do you do this with all your ex-girlfriends?”

“I don’t have any.” He laughs, picking up a dart from the table and handing it to me then grabbing one for himself. “And we both know you’re not my ex-girlfriend.”

“Uh, okay…”

He gestures for me to step up to throw. “Ladies first.”

I’m so confused that I actually move forward without arguing, glancing back to study him before facing the board, the long heavy metal dart weighted in my fingers.

What the heck is going on?

Closing one eye to concentrate, I instinctively bite down on my tongue. The dart releases from trembling fingers, heading straight for the red outer double ring. Sticks in and hangs there proudly.

My hand is still shaking when I lower my hand, stepping off the duct tape on the floor so Dash can take his turn.

“Looks like someone isn’t as calm and collected as they thought they were.” His mouth isn’t smiling but his eyes certainly are, palms rolling a black dart between them, eyeing the board shrewdly. He points the dart at me.

“If I get a bull’s-eye with this, you spend the rest of the night with me, and I get to kiss you.”

“Are you insane?”

He ignores my question, asking one of his own. “Do we have a deal?”

The odds of him actually hitting the target dead center, on the first try, without warming up, are slim, so I nod my head in acquiescence. Plus, if he makes the shot, I’ll finally know what it’s like to have those lips on mine, even if it’s just once. I deserve it.

“Yes, we have a deal.”

“Shake on it?”

I stare down at the large hand he extends, that calloused palm and the rough pads of his fingers. Glide my hand across his flesh, shivering when our skin connects.

It’s positively electric.

We both shiver.

I give him a limp shake, eager to free myself from his grasp, tucking my hand away for safekeeping, the tingling sensation lingering far too long to be comfortable.

Far too long to be forgettable.

Dante steps in front of the dartboard, plucks my small silver arrow off, sets it aside, stands on the marker taped to the floor. Focuses on the target against the wall, homing in on that red, round center, leaning with one leg kicked behind him dramatically. His strong arm draws out the action of tossing the tiny missile.

My expressive eyes get wider when the dart lands the bull’s-eye, heart damn near having palpitations when his heels pivot and he shrugs his shoulders as if to say, Golly gee, look what I did!

“Did you just hustle me?”

His shrug is easy. “Beginner’s luck?”

“Liar.”

Dante laughs. “You should talk.”

We’re staring at one another as if in a showdown, unwilling to bend.

This is getting awkward. “Maybe we should leave?”

“Thought you’d never ask. Can you hold on one second?” Removing his cell from the back pocket of his jeans, he taps open the camera. Positions it so I’m in the background of his selfie. Clicks.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a picture so we can always remember this moment.”

It’s official: Dante is crazy.

He plucks his dart from the board, setting it in the box on the table. Grabs my jacket off the nearby chair then clasps my hand, tugging me through the crowded bar, past the throng, until we’re shoving through the front door.

We stand under the fluorescent light on the side of the brick building. It cast an unflattering, eerie glow.

I glance around, creeped out by the stark surroundings, wanting to leave, to go anywhere but here.

“Where should we go?”

Dante stuffs his hands into his pockets, shoulders slouching. “I hate asking you this, but would you mind coming back to my place? There won’t be any distractions and we need to be alone.”

“You want me to come to your place…to talk.”

“Unless you’re more comfortable at your place? I just think wherever we go, it needs to be just us.” Dante shifts on his heels, shooting me a pointed look. “Don’t you have shit you want to confess?”

Confess? Why is he putting it like that?

He thinks I’m my twin, my goofy, carefree sister, who by all accounts doesn’t have a care in the world, who dates two, three guys at once, letting me do her dirty work for her.

Falling for her latest conquest is not my idea of a good time.

I’m a fool for standing here, a damn fool for coming.

“Let me get this straight: you want me to come back to your place even though I broke up with you? What are you, a glutton for punishment?” I let the sarcasm slip.

“I know I’m an idiot. I’ve done some really stupid shit in my life and chasing you just might top the list, but I like you, so yeah, I guess you could say I’m a glutton for punishment.”

My nostrils flare, jealously flaring up. “You don’t even know me.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” His head tilts to the side. “Whose fault is that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been lying to me—but guess what? I like you anyway.”

My mouth gapes open, and I struggle for words. “I…”

We’re under the glowing neon sign of Mad Dog Jacks, still standing under the bright, fluorescent light, arguing, it would seem.

“What would m-make you think I’ve been lying?”

“Let’s not do this here.” His shoulders rise and fall casually.

“Just say what you came here to say,” I press. Then add, “Please,” for good measure, practically begging.

His chin goes up. “What’s your name?”

“M-My what?”

“¿Cuál es tu nombre?” What’s your name?

My heart—oh my God, my heart is beating, thumping so wildly inside my chest I actually raise my arm, resting my hand upon it like I’m about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. I press down, breathing heavily in and out…in and out, grasping to get control of my voice before I speak.

“Wh-What do you mean?” Playing dumb: one more thing Lucy and I have in common, although she’s always been better at it than I am.

“You’re such a terrible actress.”

I say nothing; I couldn’t possibly.

Dante’s hands come out of his pockets so he can throw them in the air, frustration tangible, intense. “Would you just tell me! Tell me the truth. I’ve been really patient here, putting up with this twin bullshit.” He blows out a puff of air, trying to remain calm. “I know you’re pretending to be Lucy.”

I feel my eyes go as wide as saucers.

“Anyone with half a fucking brain can tell you’re not her, and I’ve been going out of my fucking mind.” His hands gesture around his head like his brain is exploding as he continues his rant. “Trying to figure out what to fucking do about this—pardon my French—because Jesus, I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s driving me crazy that you won’t even say your name. Can’t you understand that?”

My head nods slowly.

“Can you please just be honest about who you are and put me out of my goddamn misery? I swear, I don’t even give a shit that you lied.” He pauses. “Well, I do, but I won’t be a dick about it. I’ll get over it. I’ve done nothing but dwell on this the past few days, so can you do me a favor and just be honest?”

My breath is coming as hard and fast as his stream of words, steam rising from my mouth against the freezing pre-winter air. The tip of my nose is cold too, and probably getting red as we stand out here, gawking at each other.

Those large hands of his get stuffed back into the pockets of his jeans, and he watches me expectantly. “Now it’s your turn to say something.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Let’s start with this: do you even give the slightest shit about me?”

I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry.

“Yes.” My shoulders sag. “Yes I care.”

He’s closer now, arms at his side. “¿Cuál es tu nombre?” What’s your name?

“Yo me llamo,” I begin, voice cracking. “Amelia.”

My name is Amelia.

“Amelia,” he repeats back, my name a revelation. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“How…” I swallow hard. “How long have you known?”

He falters briefly, choosing his words. “I knew something wasn’t right almost from the minute I saw you. There were a few things that stuck out that I couldn’t make sense of, then you smiled and I saw this.” He takes his finger and touches the spot below my lip, the one he wanted to touch while we danced at the concert, only this time when his finger presses into it, I’m able to enjoy it. “And your laugh is different.”

It’s true. My laugh is different, lower and less chipper, not as flamboyant or brash as Lucy’s tends to be, mostly because she likes drawing attention to herself.

“I have no idea what to say. We didn’t switch places to be malicious. I was trying to help my sister, and this is a first.”

“What’s a first?”

“We’ve never been busted.”

“I didn’t bring you here to bust you for lying. I brought you here because I like you. I told your sister on the phone that I—”

“Wait, you talked to my sister? She knows?”

“Of course she does. I had to make sure she wasn’t going to be all fucking pissed when I pursued you.”

“Pursue me?”

“I said I was going to date the shit out of you, remember?”

“Yes.” How could I forget? “What did Lucy say when you talked to her?”

“She’s the one who helped me get you here.” He rakes a mammoth paw through his dark, silky hair. “After you broke up with me, I stood in that goddamn parking lot staring after you, wondering what the fuck had gone wrong, adding everything up in my head. A few things you’d said didn’t make sense, so I went to Lucy’s Instagram feed.”

My nod of understanding is slow. “And found our pictures.”

He nods as well. “Yeah. That’s when I called her—from the parking lot, I might add—to see if she’d care if I wanted to date you, not her. She basically tripped over herself trying to unload me.” He laughs. “She really does not like me.”

“But you don’t like her.”

“Not at all—I like you.”

Swoon!

Nothing this romantic has ever happened to me before, ever, never in my life, and I doubt it will again.

“I’m thinking we should get out of here. I’m freezing my ass off.”

“I’d like that.” I close the space between us, letting my hands brush up his chest. “You know what else I’d like? Kissing you.”

He dips his head a few inches so our mouths are a breath apart. “Is that so?”

“I feel like we’ve waited forever, don’t you?”

“It’s really only been a week, Amelia.”

God it sounds so good hearing him say my name.

Mine.

“Only one of the best and worst weeks of my life.”

“Sometimes the anticipation is the best part of playing the game, don’t you think? The expectation, the tension leading up to the big play.”

“Is that what you think this was? A game?” I’m trying to be flirtatious, but I don’t think it’s going very well; he scrunches up his nose.

“No. I don’t think either of you were skilled enough to keep it going that long. You seriously suck at method acting.” He grabs my hand, and I feel butterflies. He kisses my forehead.

Ugh.

“Come on, let’s go.”

I go, willingly.

* * *

“Your friends aren’t going to think this is crazy, right?”

We’re outside on the large front porch of the baseball house, about to go inside. Dante’s left hand is poised to pull the screen door open, foot propped on the threshold, his right hand gripping mine.

I stop him from going in with a gentle tug, worrying my bottom lip.

“No, why would they?”

“You dated one sister, now you’re dating the other,” I explain. “You don’t think your friends are going to have a problem with that?”

“Mi cielo, my friends aren’t going to know the difference. They’re a bunch of idiots.”

I blush at the term of endearment. My heaven.

“Okay. I just don’t want them to think I’m, you know…shady.”

“No one is going to think you’re shady.” His laugh is deep, amused. “If anything, they’ll think it’s fucking awesome I dated twins.”

I snort. “You’re not Hugh Hefner—you didn’t date us at the same time.”

“But I kind of did.” He turns to face me, stepping down off the stoop and pulling me into his body, hands sliding to my waist.

“But it’s not like you knew.”

I watch his mouth, engrossed by his lips. “My friends would still think I’m badass if I told them about it.”

“They’d think you had a threesome.” I roll my eyes. “Because most guys your age are perverts.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s right—you haven’t even tried to kiss me.” My chin tilts up smugly in his direction, cocking my right brow.

“You didn’t want me kissing you, remember? I’ve waited because I’m a nice fucking guy.”

“I didn’t want you kissing me because I liked you.”

His head gives a perplexed shake. “That makes no sense.”

“I didn’t want you kissing me as Lucy. I wanted you kissing me as me.”

He moves to cup my face between his palms, stroking his thumbs up and down my cheeks, giving me the tingles. “You are seriously the fucking cutest.”

“No, you are.” I’m trying to pucker my mouth between his hands, but just end up with fish lips.

“We’re not going to be one of those disgusting PDA couples, are we?”

“You’re the one with your hands all over my face.” His big, rough, perfect hands. “Are you going to kiss me?”

His face inches closer. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “I’ve waited forever for you to put those giant paws on me.”

I don’t know what I expected to happen when our mouths finally connected, but this wasn’t it.

It’s so much better.

Charged.

The slow, deliberate probing from his delicious tongue is like a dream.

Wet.

Jesus, he tastes so good, so stupid good.

Impulsively I push against his chest, backing him up against the siding of the house with a gentle shove, rubbing up on him.

Dante’s palms grip my ass, squeezing. Drag me onto his firm body, into his hard-on, running those fantastic catcher’s mitts up and down my backside. Tense.

His lips are full. Hard.

Soft.

I could swallow him hole.

It’s not enough, not nearly.

I’m so hot right now, and horny, and God I hate that word but it’s so true. I want to rip my clothes off so he can touch my body, so I can touch his. We’ve done the three-date thing; I’m ready to take it to the next level.

This kiss is ruining me—I wonder what actually having sex with him will do.

When we finally tear ourselves apart, Dante blinks. Blinks again.

Mutters, “Let’s get inside.”

“All right,” I say breathlessly, eagerness vibrating all my nerve cells. “If you don’t think your roommates are going to judge me, I’ll go inside.”

“I really think it’s adorable that you think they’d be able to tell the difference—really goddamn adorable.” He plants another heated kiss on my lips, leaving me dazed and feeling cold when he pulls back to push open the front door. “Besides, most of these guys aren’t with the same girl twice, so who the fuck are they to judge.”

They’re sitting around the house when we walk through the door, Dash tugging me in. We pause in the entry to the living room, and I give a short wave.

“Hi.”

“Guys, you remember Amelia.”

They’re all openly staring, friendly and interested. Curious, like a group of toddlers would be.

One guy—a huge ballplayer sprawled in the center on the couch, remote control in his hands—looks me over from head to toe, then back again, wrinkling his forehead.

“I thought you said her name was Lucy.”

I grin, responding before Dante can. “Nope. It’s Amelia. You must be confusing me with someone else.”

The guy looked sheepish. “Shit, sorry.”

Dante’s index finger tickles my palm as we move toward the hall. “Anyway, we’ll be in my room. Don’t bother us.”

When we’re in his bedroom with the door closed, he turns to me and says, “That little fib slipped right off your tongue, didn’t it?”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” I grin, slipping off my shoes, already comfortable. “Mostly with family members and a few unsuspecting teachers in grade school.”

“You didn’t even bat an eye when you lied to his face. Please don’t ever do that to me.”

“I was just teasing him.” I grab Dante’s thick arm, squeezing. “Which would be impossible with you since you can tell us apart.”

“Lucy said I’m your unicorn.” He laughs, tossing his jacket on a chair.

This gives me pause. “She did?”

“Yup. I’m a motherfucking unicorn.”

* * *

The differences are remarkable now that I know she’s a completely different person; they stick out at me like red flags.

Obviously, there’s the hair, and the dimple. Her brows are arched higher, eyes sharper. Amelia has an air about her that Lucy doesn’t; she’s deliberate and thoughtful.

Her lips? Incredible.

She sheds her jacket, sliding it down her arms, hanging it on the chair I have at the table functioning as my desk.

Truth? Now that I have her in my room, I’m not sure what to do with her.

She surveys the space, hands on her narrow hips, taking it all in. There isn’t much to see, just a bed, table, chair, floor lamp. The bare minimum, not even a television.

Nothing to watch, nothing to see, no where to go but the bed.

Really it’s just a beige box where I sleep, and now I seem to have acquired a girlfriend to go along with it.

I take a seat on the edge of my mattress, legs kicked apart, leaning back. Watch her preoccupying herself with my shit. The laptop on my desk and the sticky notes on my wall above it. The few books I have stacked on the table.

“This is nice, clean.”

“I’m really boring.” It sounds like an apology.

Amelia turns. Starts toward me, stepping in between my legs. “I don’t think so.”

My hands automatically slide to her waist like we’ve done it a million times, pulling her in for a hug. I bury my face in her flat abdomen, nuzzling her sweater.

Her deft flingers pluck tenderly at the black hair atop my head then trail down my neck, landing on my shoulders. Back and forth, fingertips kneading the muscles there.

It feels like heaven.

“I don’t think you’re boring at all.”

I raise my head. “No?”

“Te encuentro fascinante.” I find you fascinating. “I love your big hands. They do incredible things, wouldn’t you agree?”

My hands are fucking big. I flex them against her ass, skimming them down her denim-clad butt cheeks.

She goes on. “And you’re kind.”

Kind.

That’s something no girl has ever called me, but I suppose it’s true.

My nose finds it way between her breasts, and she laughs when I give her another nuzzle. I can’t wait to see her tits, can’t wait to get her naked.

“And you’re as turned on as I am.”

“Sí.” My arms encircle her, the tips of my fingers gripping her inner thighs from behind, thumb beginning to slowly massage the apex. “Te encuentro sexy.”

Amelia bites down on her lower lip. “Do you think we’re moving too fast?”

I raise my head again. Her mouth is right fucking there. All I’d have to do is raise my face an inch…

“We haven’t done anything.”

Yet.

“No.” Her lips brush mine with a moan when my fingers rub the delicate nub through her jeans. “But I want to, don’t you?”

“Sí, but we can wait.”

“I don’t think I can.” Her hips roll.

“Amelia,” I enunciate with my accent. “I want you to know I’m all in. I’m not going to bail on you if we have sex right away.”

“All in? Already, Dante, after two dates?”

“Three after tonight.”

“I can live with that if you can.” Her sexy voice wavers. “Do you, um, have, you know…condoms?”

“I live in a house full of baseball players—there are condoms everywhere.”

“In your drawer?”

“No.” Shit. “I’d have to go find one.”

“Just in case, maybe?” She backs away. “I’m a planner, very organized.”

My kind of girl.

“Be right back.” Planting an electrically charged kiss on her mouth, I bolt off the bed. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Shutting the door behind me, I riffle through three bathroom drawers and one cabinet before finding a brand new box of condoms, thanking Christ I didn’t have to go to the living room and ask for one.

It’s bad enough that I’m planning to get laid in a house full of my roommates.

I palm the bright pink box, giving my door a gentle knock before reentering. “It’s me.”

Nudge the door open.

Stop dead in my tracks.

Almost drop the box to the floor, almost hurl it across the room.

“Amelia…holy shit.”

She’s lounging on my bed in just her lingerie, breasts spilling over the cups of her bra. The material is lacy, sheer, and black. I stare at her pale flesh.

Her shoulders rise and fall apologetically. “You said to get comfortable.”

Getting naked isn’t exactly what I had in mind, but I’d be an idiot to argue and mi madre no creo un tonto. My mother didn’t raise a fool.

I’m already tearing the shirt off my body when she says, “You have a shirt for me to wear later? Because I’m thinking I might spend the night.”

Unbutton my jeans, slip them down past my hips. Kick them off to the side.

She’s leaning against the headboard, watching me undress. “I’ve never met a guy so eager to be tied down.”

Tied down, tied to the bed—either way, I’d be happy.

“I was bred to be with one woman, mi cielo.”

Amelia moves first, scuttling toward me on her haunches, meeting me in the middle of the bed. “Is that so?”

She places the tip of her finger in the center of my chest, above my heart, dragging it down my body. Down my solid pecs. Down my rib cage. Over my abs, circling my belly button.

My dick is stiff when she reaches the waistband of my tight boxer briefs, hooking the material, snagging it away from my skin. I think I stop breathing when the nail of her finger brushes the head of my cock, a pleasant smile pasted on her lips, schooled expression neutral.

Neutral except for her eyes.

Those are gleaming.

Predatory.

Shining when she clasps my hard-on with all five fingers. Gently squeezes through the thin cotton of my underwear.

“I’d wondered about the size of this.” Her voice is a low, seductive murmur. Her hand? Giving me another squeeze. “And now I know. Hmm, your breathing seems labored. Do you want me to stop? Let you catch your breath?”

I shake my head like a dope. Swallow hard, wanting so badly to jut my hips forward and thrust. Grip her hand so she’ll tighten it around my throbbing dick.

“It’s probably a good thing you’re in such good shape.” She releases me—the tease—running both palms up my abs. “I’ve never dated an athlete before.” Plucks a nipple. “And your skin is so smooth—well, except for these goose bumps.”

Still, I wait, not touching her, knowing I’ll get rewarded for my patience.

“You know what I like about you Dante? Besides the fact that you’re so smoking hot and look incredible with no clothes on? I love that you’re so levelheaded, so composed.”

Amelia moves closer on her knees until her lace-covered breasts brush my chest. “I’ve never found anyone so sexy or attractive in my entire life.”

I don’t know what’s making me harder—how upfront she is about what she wants or the fact that she’s not wearing clothes.

When our mouths collide, one hand slides down her spine to cup her tight little ass, the other braced behind her head. Our kissing sounds fill the air, sexy moans and lapping tongues. We’re messy and hurried and when Amelia starts rubbing her pussy against my dick, our pelvises grinding, it’s time to get completely naked.

She beats me to it—reaches behind her back, lips still suctioned to mine, unclasping her bra in one motion. Pulls the straps down her arms, discarding the delicate black fabric on the side of the bed. Grapples for my hands, placing them on her tits.

I’ve never really been a boob guy, but I’ve just been converted into one. They’re full, heavy in my hands, my thumbs brushing over her dark areolas at the same time Amelia pushes down the waistband of my boxers.

“Eres mío,” comes her husky murmur. “Mío.” You’re mine.

We’re whispering all sorts of sexy shit to each other in Spanish as our hands explore, limbs entwined, falling to the mattress. Amelia lazes beneath me, hair fanned out on my pillow, permitting me to explore, dreamily twirling my hair when I latch onto her nipple, sucking. Arches her back. Runs her nails down my scalp, my neck.

I rise above her, index finger idly trailing up her underwear, up the front, thumb pressing down in small, lazy circles.

Round and round and round on that little pink nub.

Her fists clench the quilt covering my bed.

“Don’t,” she gasps. “Or I’ll come.”

My finger hooks into her panties, pulling them aside, fingers stroking. “You want me to stop, cariño?”

“Yes. Jesus, just take off your underwear and get on top. I can’t take it anymore.”

“You like it on the bottom?” Good to know.

We’re shoving down our underwear and in a group effort, I kick mine off, roll on a condom. Hover over Amelia, dragging the hard length of my cock along her thigh until we’re both moaning with anticipation, both of us eager.

Willing.

Ready.

“S-Sometimes I do.” Her eyes are closed, teeth biting down on her lower lip.

“I wonder something.” I lean in, sucking on her earlobe as I whisper, “Do you really think you deserve a good fucking?”

Her eyes open, nostrils flare. “Yes.”

I let my dick nestle between her legs. “I can’t believe you fucking dumped me.”

Amelia’s hands pull down on my ass, urging me inside. “You are not bringing that up right now.”

I reach between us, clutching my erection, running the tip up and down her slit, making her moan. “Oh, but I am.”

When she pouts, turning her head and presenting me with the pale length of her neck, I lean in, sucking. “You weren’t even going to tell me, were you?”

“No.”

“That’s really naughty of you.”

“It is.” She nods. “So naughty.”

“You probably don’t deserve this.” I let the head of my cock creep in the smallest fraction.

“But you do.” Amelia’s face is flushed, hips beginning a slow roll, arms above her head. She looks ready to pass out.

“I do, don’t I?”

“Yes,” she hisses, panting. “God you feel good. Ohhhh shit…”

So fucking good, in and out.

In and out.

Just the tip, just the motherfucking tip—not even an inch—is ecstasy.

When she moans—so loud my roommates in the other room undoubtedly heard—I press a finger to her lips. “Shhh.”

Her tongue darts out and flicks my finger. No sound comes out of her lips when she mouths, “Fuck. Me.”

We both do a lot of pleading, panting, and praying to Jesus, God, and everyone else while I’m balls deep inside her, rocking back and forth, muscles clenched.

It’s gasping, desperate, breathless fucking.

My hands slide beneath her ass when I come, unloading inside, nose buried in the crook of her neck.

Mi cielo.

My heaven.