Page 47 of Mr. Naughty List

“She’s pretty into you,” RJ said, his voice a gravelly whisper. “Should I be worried?”

Constance stared at him between slitted eyes with either adoration or loathing, Aaron could never be quite sure which.

“She wants her breakfast.”

As soon as the word was out of his mouth, Constance chirruped like a furry bird, leapt from the bed, and began to stalk between the door and the bedside impatiently.

Aaron sat up and yelped. His asshole was definitely tender today, way beyond the sensitivity of even their first night together.

RJ roused more fully, sitting up too. “You okay?”

Aaron nodded and started to climb from the bed, but his legs ached. He moaned. Fuck, he felt like he’d done power yoga for five days straight and been plowed by the biggest dick in the world while in downward dog. Shit.

“Let me see,” RJ whispered, running a hand down his back. “I may have hurt you.”

“You’re not that big,” Aaron said, denying the truth.

“Get on your stomach,” RJ said in that firm voice he used during sex, and which made Aaron’s toes curl. Whatever resistance he had inside simply melted away. “I’m plenty big, but besides that the anal beads were a lot.”

That was true enough.

Constance meowed in protest, but Aaron did as he was told, a new hard-on starting when RJ knelt between his legs and ran his fingers over the bruises from the ruler.

“Wow.”

“It’s okay. I like it.”

“I like it too,” RJ whispered. “You’re going to have that on your ass for days, Mr. Danvers. How do you feel about that?”

“Good.”

RJ laughed. Then he spread Aaron’s butt cheeks wide, the morning sun from the windows pouring in with plenty of light to illuminate his most private place.

“That’s beautiful,” RJ said. “Perfect. No injury that I can see. Does it hurt inside?”

“I’m okay,” Aaron insisted. “I promise.”

RJ leaned down, nuzzled his ass cheeks, and pressed a kiss to his hole. “For the boo-boo.”

Aaron shivered, wishing for a hint of tongue, but RJ didn’t do more. Crawling out of the bed before Aaron could stand up, RJ stretched himself out, all tall and lanky, with strong muscles outlined with morning sun. “I’m going to take a piss. I’ll feed Constance if you want. Where do I find her food?”

“I’ll get it,” Aaron said, rising from the bed with only a little wince. His thighs felt like he’d stretched them beyond endurance, which given the positions they’d screwed in, was entirely possible.

He pulled on his robe.

Constance approached with a twitchy tail, and he leapt out of the trajectory of her paw, just barely missing a swipe that would have taken off some skin. “Fine, you sweet bitch, I’m getting it.”

“Should have named her Patience,” RJ called from within the bathroom where the splash of urine echoed. “For irony.”

Aaron scoffed but thought RJ was onto something when he scraped the second half of Constance’s can of food into her bowl and she just hissed, turned her back, and walked away like he’d put actual shit in her dish.

“You liked it yesterday!” he said, staring after her. “You ate it like it was nectar of the gods. Don’t you hiss at me like that.”

“Your Instagram doesn’t do her bitchiness justice,” RJ said, walking into the kitchen wiping damp hands on his boxers. “It’s all sweet sleeping in the sunshine pics and showing her pretty tummy.”

“Oh, God, if she ever does that? Shows her floofy tummy? Don’t fall for it. It’s a trap. A floof trap.”

“A floof trap?” RJ grinned, heading over to Keurig and turning it on. Aaron hated the waste of all the little disposable cups, but his mother had given the machine to him last Christmas, and he had to admit that it saved so much time in the mornings, and he wasted less coffee too.