One Night Stan by KB Cinder

Author:KB Cinder [Cinder, KB]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-05T16:00:00+00:00

“I need to run to an ATM,” I murmur, pulling my mouth from Hudson’s. “I don’t have any cash on me.”

He laughs, brushing my hair out of my face now that my braid is history. “Unnecessary, G.”

“A bet’s a bet.”

I’m straddling him on my couch, a goodnight kiss turning into an all-out feeding frenzy because of yours truly.

Once his lips touched mine outside of my door, everything I wagered earlier went out the damn window. The poor guy didn’t know what hit him when I hauled him in here.

“You can honor it by going out with me again next weekend,” he says, still threading his fingers through my hair.

I frown down at him. “You’re a monster.”

He laughs. “I’ve only been called that by the guys during training.”

I lean in, getting back to the task at hand. “Shut up and kiss me, Stanley.”

He has far too much clothing on. I’ve already stripped out of my blouse and sandals, and in the next minute or two, I plan on being buck naked in his lap.

His lips find mine, but the kiss is hard and chaste before he pulls away. “As much as I would love to, I need to go.”

I stiffen. “Are you kidding?”

I’m writhing on top of him topless like a cat in heat and he needs to get going? I think the fuck not.

“I wish, but I have a long drive ahead of me.”

“And blue balls.”

He sighs. “Those, too.”

I rock against the hardness at the front of his pants. “We can have a quickie…”

It isn’t what I want, but if it’s all I can have, I’ll take it.

He shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Not yet? You’ve already screwed me seven ways to Sunday.”

“We’re starting fresh,” he declares, lifting and setting me on the empty cushion next to him before standing. “No sex.”

No sex? What the hell?

“Until when?”

He adjusts his erection, a pained expression marring his face. “Until I know you better.”

“You’ve seen my asshole,” I declare, scowling. “You know me enough.”

Flashing a smile, he shakes his head before bending to grab my shirt from the floor and tossing it at me. “I have. It winks at me during doggy.”

“Take it back, Stanley,” I demand. “It does not.”

His smile only widens. “Kneel in front of a mirror, lean forward, and tell me what you see, Despacito.”

“I swear to God if you don’t stop calling me that…” I warn.

Unmoved at my threat, he asks, “So, how’s Saturday sound for you?”

I shove my arms angrily through each hole in my top, still stuck on his other comment. “It does not wink at you.”

“Okay, so maybe it coughs? Yodels? Who cares about semantics? Saturday: yes, or no?”

“No, if you don’t take it back.” I pull the shirt over my head; positive that I look ridiculous right now. I’m arguing with a guy about what my asshole does and doesn’t do during sex. This is a new low, even for me.

If it bothers him, he doesn’t show it. “What time?”

“As soon as you take it back,” I reply, standing.

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