Page 8 of Loving Ohio (State of Us)

Chapter Eight

Devon

T he Ferris wheel lurches forward, metal creaking under its own weight as our cart swings slightly. Arya squeals, grabbing onto my arm like we’re about to plummet to our deaths.

“Damn, baby girl,” I smirk. “Didn’t peg you for the scared-of-heights type.”

Emphasis on peg. Yes, please.

She glares at me, her fingers gripping my bicep. “I’m not scared of heights. I just… This thing is old, okay? What if a bolt comes loose? What if—”

Leaning in, I press my lips to her ear, flicking my tongue over her lobe. “What if we’re stuck up here forever? Just you and me? Nothing but time on our hands to do whatever we want.”

She gasps dramatically, clutching a hand to her chest. “I would literally throw myself over the edge.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of me, and I study her from the corner of my eye. She's holding the stuffed gorilla I'd won at a carnival game, her blonde hair in a thick braid down her back. A sexy as fuck dress with little cherries on it clings to her curves.

Almost everyone bitches about her being annoying sometimes, but honestly? She’s not so bad. I won't lie, when she'd asked if I wanted to “hang out,” I'd expected to get some action, not… actually hang out.

She's funny. Definitely not boring, and I like not boring . She's the kind of girl I used to bring home to disappoint my parents—

Grandparents . My grandparents, who raised me.

With a snort, I drape my arm over the back of the seat. “You know, statistically, Ferris wheels are the safest amusement park ride. You’re more likely to die from choking on a hotdog than this thing breaking.”

Arya squints at me, glossy lips parted in suspicion. “You just made that up.”

“Did I?” I grin, giving her a wink. “I've got a hotdog you can choke on.”

She rolls her eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't stick there. “Your ego is huge.”

“And it's not the only thing that's huge.”

“Oh my God.” She smacks my shoulder, crossing her arms like she's mad, but I catch the smile on her cheeks. “You and Christian only think with your dicks, I swear.”

The cart jerks again as we descend, and she lets out a little squeak, gripping my wrist tighter. Peeking over the edge, her confidence falters, but she quickly turns back to me.

I arch a brow. “Thought you said you weren't scared?”

She huffs, gesturing wildly. “I am not scared. I just… Why does this thing have to shake like that?”

The Ferris wheel sputters to a stop, and Arya clutches my arm one last time before realizing we’ve actually survived the ordeal. Letting out a dramatic sigh, she nudges me with her elbow. “See? Told you I wasn’t scared.”

“Yeah, okay,” I squint at her. “All that gasping for breath was because of me, huh?”

She tilts her head, blue eyes widening innocently. “I'm pretty sure I had you gasping the other night.”

Shit . The memory of fucking her while I made out with her boyfriend makes my cock jump, and I have to subtly adjust myself.

A flash of bronze-inked skin catches my attention, interrupting my response. I swing my gaze over to where Christian stands watching us with his arms crossed, looking mildly pissed—but kind of turned on.

“Busted,” I mutter, jerking my chin toward him.

Arya follows my gaze and grins, hauling me off the ride as soon as the attendant unhooks the safety bar.

Bouncing up to Christian with me in tow, she presses a heated kiss to his lips, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. His eyes don’t leave mine, not even when she grabs my shirt and pulls me down for a kiss of my own, the taste of him mingling with her lip gloss.

My hands land on her waist instinctively, but she’s already pulling away, smirking at us both.

“Gotta go find Salem,” she says, stepping back. “I'll see you both after the show.”

She saunters off, ass jiggling under her dress, and we both watch her go before turning toward each other.

Christian’s hazel eyes flick to mine, the corners of his lips twitching like he’s about to say something but thinks better of it. I tilt my head, letting the silence settle between us, waiting him out.

But I’m impatient as fuck.

“What?” I finally ask, quirking a brow.

“You taking my girl on dates now?”

There’s an edge to his tone I don't like, so I slide my hands into my pockets and lick Arya's gloss from my lips. “Technically, she took me on one. Jealous?”

“Fuck, no,” he scoffs, but the irritated look on his face tells me otherwise.

“Tell you what, hot shot,” I snort, gesturing to the ring toss booth on our left. “I'll play you. Best man wins.”

He studies the game with those hazel eyes, considering. “What do I get when I win?”

When. Cocky bastard.

Leaning toward him, I lower my voice, the heat of his body warming mine. “When I win, you can suck my dick. If you win, I’ll suck yours.”

His gaze swings to mine, brows hitting his hairline. “Arya gets a monkey, and all I get is a blowjob?”

I blink, unsure of how to respond, but then a sinister smirk curls his lips. He snickers, giving me a shove. “Just playing, fool. Of course I want a blowjob. You're on.”

Holy fucking shit. I didn't think he'd actually agree.

Christian steps in front of the booth, arms crossed, grinning like he's already won. I follow suit, studying the game as my cock hardens against my thigh at the prospect of getting his lips around it.

The setup is simple: a bunch of glass bottles lined up in neat little rows, waiting for me to land a ring on one. Easy.

The carnie behind the counter—a guy who’s probably seen a thousand assholes like us over the years—takes my money, handing us a set of rings with a bored expression on his face. I pick one up, weighing it in my palm like I’m actually sizing up the physics of this shit.

Christian clicks his tongue, amused. “You’re about to embarrass yourself, dude.”

Glancing at him, I raise a questioning brow and line up my first shot. “You ever sucked cock before, hot shot?”

“Nah, but it can't be too hard if Taylor's so good at it.”

Clink . The ring bounces off the bottle and lands on the floor, my aim thrown off by his words.

What the fuck? Has Taylor sucked him off before? My chest burns with something uncomfortable at the thought.

“Nice one,” he snorts, oblivious to where my head just went as he lines up his shot—and lands it perfectly.

Shit.

“Shut up,” I mutter, grabbing another, focusing this time. Just a little more arc, a little more oomph, more—

Clink . Miss. Fuck.

“It's like you want to suck my dick or something,” Christian snickers, pulling his arm back for another throw.

I lean close to whisper in his ear, “Maybe because I do.” And the image of Taylor with your dick in his mouth is seriously pissing me off.

Clink . Bounce.

He glares at me, pupils blown wide as he crosses his arms. “You cheating fucker.”

With a wink, I roll my shoulders before taking another ring. Being this tall comes in handy sometimes, and I extend my arm, rolling my wrist slightly.

The ring hits the lip of the nearest bottle and spins away, rolling over the glass until it hula-hoops around the neck of another one, landing the shot. Yes . “Now, we’re one for one.”

“Final throw,” he says, spinning the ring around his finger with a sideways glance. “And no playing dirty this time, asshole.”

I raise my hands in surrender before steepling them under my chin. My tongue pokes out to toy with my lip piercing, drawing his attention, and he scoffs as he flicks his hand without even looking.

The damn ring lands with a clink , no effort even given—and it makes my dick twitch. That was sexy as hell.

Christian just stares, barely containing his laughter while I exhale slowly through my nose. “This game is fucking rigged.”

“Or you just suck.”

A slow smile pulls at my mouth. “Oh, I definitely suck, and I'm pretty good at it.”

Better than your best fucking friend.

His throat flexes with a swallow, knuckles nudging his crotch like he's trying to keep from getting hard, but it's useless. There's a noticeable bulge.

Huffing a laugh, I grab my last ring, determined to sink the shot. This time, I really focus, angling the throw just right, all my thoughts centered around getting Christian Totillo on his knees, the sounds he'll make when he gags for me, his tongue flicking my piercing—

Clink .

The ring hits the rim before rolling off as my cock shoots to full attention at the fantasy. Son of a bitch.

“Praise baby Jesus.” Christian grabs my wrist suddenly, yanking me away from the booth and into the crowd before I can even respond.

I don’t really know where he's taking me, nor do I care . I’m too distracted by the fact that he's so eager to have me suck him off that he's practically skipping.

The RV is clear on the other side of the fairgrounds, and I think he realizes that when he screeches to a stop, my chest colliding with his back. He curses in Spanish under his breath.

Laughing into his ear, I wrap my arm around him, flattening my hand over his stomach. “What's the rush, hot shot? We can always hang out after the show–”

“And give you a chance to change your mind? Fuck, no.”

As if that would ever happen, but I let him tug me through the crowd until he spots the Gravitron—a massive UFO-shaped ride, roped off with a bright orange DOWN FOR MAINTENANCE sign slapped across the entrance.

His grip on my wrist tightens, and I can feel the exact second the reckless idea forms in his head.

“Oh, hell no—”

But it’s too late. He’s already moving, dragging me toward the side of the ride where a loose gap in the fencing gives just enough space for us to slip through.

“Get in the UFO,” he demands, pointing toward the fence, and I tilt my head like I’m considering his request.

“Will anal probing be involved?”

He huffs, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me through the gap. My cock grows even harder at the way he's manhandling me. I fucking love it when a guy takes control.