Page 14 of Pretty Broken Doll

Shilo

“ R elax your shoulders. Sit as tall as you can, and take deep breaths.”

From the back of the yoga class, I follow KC’s instructions, my legs crossed and my palms pressed together. Supposedly calming music drifts from the speakers, but the heavy smell of incense makes my head pound.

“Now, let’s take a moment to connect with our heart space, dropping our heads forward to stretch our necks.”

Next to me, Carpenter mutters something too low for me to catch, his black beanie pulled low over his thick brows. He doesn’t look thrilled to be here, but like me, he follows the rest of the class begrudgingly.

Coming to yoga wasn’t my idea. Apparently, my attitude was starting to bring everyone down, so KC dragged us all to participate in his class today.

Not that I mind.

Maybe two months ago, I would’ve minded, but KC’s grown on me. Like a fungus. Or a mole.

“As we exhale, let us open our eyes and reach our arms up toward the ceiling, letting our fingertips kiss. We’ll do this twice.”

Glancing at Carpenter, I whisper from the corner of my mouth, “Why does he keep saying we ?”

He snorts softly. “My name is Legion, for we are many.”

A snicker escapes me, but I cut it short when Tina throws us a chastising look over their shoulder. I’ve been spending a lot of time with all of them lately, especially the last few weeks since Thanksgiving. Mostly to distract myself from texting Ryann.

I haven’t seen or heard from him since he transferred me to the R&D department. Not even at work.

Liza’s great, she’s super nice and has me running diagnostics on CalTek software, which is cool. But… she’s not Ryann.

I know I made the right decision ending our arrangement, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss messing up his coffee every day or inventing new ways to irritate him. I miss the things he did to my body. Wish I could say I missed how he made me feel, but the truth is, he didn’t make me feel very good. Not after the clothes came back on, anyway.

At the front of the class, KC unfolds his legs, leaning up. “Now, we’ll move onto all fours as we arch our backs into a stretch.”

“His favorite position,” Carpenter mutters, rolling over to his hands and knees. I’m not sure if he means yoga or something else, so I keep my mouth shut.

The stretch actually feels good on my lower back after being hunched over a keyboard all day, and the outfit KC lent me is surprisingly comfortable. The shirt hangs loosely while the pants hug all the right places. If I weren’t so worried about Dad freaking out, I’d probably wear stuff like this more often. He nearly had a coronary the day Paige gave me a pedicure, and that was bad enough.

As the class goes on, my headache worsens, but I do my best to keep up, even though I’m nowhere near as flexible as KC. Carpenter notices, too, judging by the little comments he keeps making. There’s a curious look in his eye when he watches his roommate, though, and I can’t help wondering if he’s as straight as he claims.

Not that I’m interested in him or anything. I’m not interested in anyone , despite KC’s failed attempts to find me a boyfriend at various gay bars. Crowds aren’t my thing, and I spent the whole time anxious I’d run into Ryann. I’m self-conscious enough knowing he and KC used to sleep together, I don’t need to see him touching or kissing someone else.

I was so naive, thinking I could give him my body without my heart.

“Now for our last stretch,” KC continues, his voice soothing. “Let’s spread our feet apart and slowly bend forward, touching our palms to the floor.”

I follow his lead but only make it halfway down when Carpenter whips his head toward me, his amber eyes wide with panic.

“I think I have to fart,” he whispers.

A laugh bursts out of me, loud enough to distract the class. Carpenter’s shoulders start to shake as he cracks up too, and then we’re both losing it like a couple of middle schoolers. He wobbles on his mat, his long arms flailing as he tries to keep his balance, but he’s nearly a foot taller than me and ends up dragging me down with him.

We hit the ground hard, my body landing squarely on top of his pelvis.

Wheezing loudly, he grimaces, his broad nose wrinkling in pain. I plant my hands on his chest to push myself up, my face burning.

“Crap, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

He coughs into his fist. “No, you landed on my nuts. Get me some ice.”

For whatever reason, that makes me laugh harder, especially when Carpenter admits that he hoped the sound of our fall covered the fart. Luckily, everyone’s gathering their things to leave, but I’m so busy snickering that I completely miss the tall figure looming over us.

“Shilo?”

Ah, jeez.

My smile vanishes instantly at the sound of his voice, and my gaze jerks upward to meet a pair of intense hazel eyes.

Ryann. My stomach flips at the sight of him after so many weeks. He’s in basketball shorts and a tank top, his muscled biceps on full display, and his neck glistens with sweat.

I want to lick him. See what he tastes like.

No. Bad Shilo.

His eyes shift from me to Carpenter, who’s still sprawled beneath me, and the realization hits me like a slap—I’m straddling him. Oh, shit.

Scrambling to my feet quickly, I dip my head, offering Carpenter a hand. He groans dramatically when I help him up, one hand cupping his crotch.

“Are you alright?” Ryann asks unevenly, lifting a brow.

“No, Shilo made my balls ache.”

My eyes nearly bug out of my skull as I gape at him, cheeks heating. “Wait, no, that’s not what–”

“Seriously, I think you broke my dick by how hard you sat on it.”

What the hell?!

Slapping my forehead, I squeezing my eyes shut to hide Ryann’s reaction to those words, warm embarrassment spreading down my neck.

Behind me, KC clicks his tongue. “TMI, Carpenter. Ry here doesn’t want to hear what you two do in the bedroom.”

Parting my lids, I glare at his smirk, while Carpenter scoffs. He looks ready to fire off a comeback, but Tina grabs him by the arm and drags him away before he can confirm or deny anything. Panic sparks in my chest.

Ryann’s jaw tightens as he watches Carpenter go, his posture stiff. When his gaze swings back to me, I’m shocked by the emotion swimming in his golden-green eyes.

“R-Ryann.” I clear my throat, mouth dry. “That wasn’t…Carpenter and I aren’t—“

“I don’t need to hear it.” He cuts me off with a firm, flat tone. “It’s none of my business. I just saw you across the gym and thought I’d come over to ask how you like your new position with Liza.”

“Oh.” Disappointment has my shoulders sagging. “Um, it’s been good. She’s nice.”

He waits, silently prompting me to elaborate, but I have nothing else to say. When it becomes clear that’s all he’s getting, he nods once, running a hand through his damp hair.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Turning on his heel, he heads back toward the weight room, and my eyes can’t help but follow him, drifting down to the tight muscles of his ass in those shorts. I tear my gaze away with effort, only to find KC watching me with an accusatory stare.

He doesn’t say anything, just rolls his lips and leads me to his car.

It’s much later, when I’m perched on his kitchen counter and he’s dyeing my roots, that he finally brings it up.

“So…what was all that stuff with Ry earlier?”

I squint at him, shrugging as I keep my focus on the TV in the living room where Carpenter and Tina are slaying zombies . “What stuff?”

KC makes an impatient noise as he dries my freshly washed waves with a diffuser. “I don’t want to get all up in people’s business, Shi, but—“

“Since when?” Carpenter scoffs from the couch, earning a sharp glare from KC.

“I’m not talking to you, especially after you ruined my yoga class today.”

“I told you I was gassy, and you didn’t believe me.”

Blowing out a long breath, KC shuts his eyes like he’s praying. “Straight boys are going to be the death of me.”

Tina cackles, leaning closer to Carpenter and whispering something that makes him grin. KC ignores them, turning his full attention back to me.

“Something’s been up with you for weeks. I figured it might have been a man situation, but I didn’t know the man in question was Ryann.”

I open my mouth to deny it, but the words catch in my throat when I meet his gaze. I’ve never been good at lying. Paige always says I wear my heart on my sleeve, and right now, I hate how easy I am to read.

Licking my lips, I glance down at my lap. “We had a…thing. And I ended it.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah.” My gaze flicks up from beneath my lashes. “And I know that you two had a thing, too.”

The living room goes silent. KC’s face twists into a grimace as he sets down the diffuser before reaching up to tug at his braid.

“It’s not that I was trying to keep it from you, Shilo. After we went our separate ways, he had me sign an NDA. I’m not allowed to bring it up.”

Honestly, I’m not surprised. It sounds exactly like something a rich jerk would do. Still, a part of me wonders why he never made me sign one.

“Well, it doesn’t matter because I kind of broke things off with him.”

“Why?”

The question comes from Carpenter, and we all turn to look at him.

“Like, respectfully, if I were gay, I’d be climbing that dude like a tree.”

KC narrows his eyes briefly, studying his roommate, while I wrestle with my thoughts.

“He’s kind of…emotionally unavailable.”

“If I’d known something was going on between you two, I’d have told you that,” KC says with a sigh. “Ry isn’t the commitment type. He won’t even let his hookups sleep in his bed.”

“Figured that out the hard way,” I grumble, guilt tugging at my chest. Ryann had warned me from the start that it would be nothing more than sex.

I just didn’t plan on liking the things he said to me so much.

“Some unsolicited and probably horrible advice?” Satisfied with his work, KC ruffles my hair as he pulls me off the counter. “The only way to get over someone like him is to fuck it out of your system.”

Tina laughs, tossing the controller onto the couch cushions as they stand with a stretch. “That’s your advice for everything.”

“And it’s never steered me wrong. There’s nothing a good, hard fuck can’t fix.”

“Christ,” Carpenter mutters, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear it while KC smirks.

But I don’t just want to fuck. I want…

Well, I don’t know what I want, but it’s not a one night stand. That would only worsen the situation I find myself in whenever Ryann treats me like I’m precious before growing cold and distant. Giving strangers access to my body isn’t going to fix that. I’m self-aware enough to know that I’d end up chasing a feeling and making myself sick when I never find it.

So I just shrug to end the conversation, mumbling my goodbyes as I grab my stuff and slip out of their apartment. Something tells me they wouldn’t understand even if I tried explaining it to them. I don’t fully understand it myself.

Soft snowflakes melt against the windshield as I drive home, pulling my hoodie tighter around myself to fight off the chill. The streets are quiet this late at night, peaceful. I take my time, letting the Christmas lights blur past me, their colors soft and warm against the darkness. Not for the first time, I try to find that sense of wonder everyone talks about during the holidays, but it’s just not there. If I’m honest, the season has always felt depressing.

Giving gifts stresses me out, the expectations of it. I’ve also been told I’m hard to buy for, which makes no sense. What part of ‘I want a thousand-watt fully modular power supply for my PC’ is hard to understand?

I’m not even halfway home when I get distracted, my thoughts wandering, and hit a curb. Mom’s Corolla shudders violently.

“ Dammit. “ Cursing under my breath, I pull off to the side of the road and climb out, praying with all my might that it’s just uneven pavement. But, of course, my prayers go unanswered.

“Are you frickin’ kidding me?” I howl in frustration as I spot the completely flat back tire. Just great. God, why me?

Throwing my hood up, I blow on my cold hands and try to remember how to change a tire. Dad tried showing me when I first got my license, but I was sixteen and my attention span was kind of short. I think I need a jack. And that metal X thing. It can’t be too hard.

Finding what I need after rooting around in the trunk, I glare up at the sky when the flakes turn into freezing rain. Like this couldn’t get any worse.

The spare tire is heavy, but I heave it out onto the ground before focusing on the near-impossible task of jacking the car off the ground. I can admit that I’m not a strong guy, all of my muscles are in my brain, and the frickin’ thing will not cooperate. I even stand on the lever, hoping my body weight will get it to move while my clothes thoroughly soak through, but it does no good. I’m stuck.

As I shift to jump down, the rain-slicked metal betrays me. My foot slips, and though I manage to catch myself, the sharp, rusted edge of the fender slices deep into my left palm.

“ Ouch, frick!”

Kicking the offending tire with a furious shout, I slide back into the driver’s seat, dripping wet. Blood pools in my palm, and I seethe as the sting sharpens with every passing second. It’s too dark to tell how bad the cut is, so I wipe it off on my jeans with a hiss of pain, my teeth chattering violently. Reaching for my phone on the center console, I fumble to unlock it, my fingers clumsy from the cold.

Clearly, I need help, but who would be awake right now? Definitely not Dad. KC said he was going to bed when I left, and I don’t have Carpenter or Tina’s numbers.

Scrolling through my pitiful list of contacts, my thumb hovers over Ryann’s name.

No. Bad idea.

Would he even answer, anyway? I could call Paige, but with all the preparations for CalTek’s Christmas party, she’s probably asleep. Maybe Declan?

Debating for all of five seconds, I hit the call button and chew on my fingernail, blood from my cut rolling down my arm beneath the sleeve.

After five or so rings, he finally answers.

“Shilo? What’s wrong?”

His voice is slightly raspy from sleep, and the sound of it sends goosebumps over my frozen skin.

“Hi, Mr. Callahan, I’m sorry to wake you, but I–”

“Call me Ryann, dammit.”

His grumpy growl ignites a fire in my veins, and I grin despite the burning in my palm and sopping clothes.

“Ryann. Sorry. I, uh, blew a tire on the way home from hanging out with Kansas, and I can’t get the jack to work. I would have called someone else, but it’s like one in the morning, and it’s raining pretty hard, plus I also scraped my hand, and I might get tetanus–”

“Slow down. Where are you?”

Glancing out the window, I give him the name of the last street sign I passed.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Stay in the car.”

He hangs up without waiting for me to respond, and I stare at my dark screen, raindrops pelting the window. Warm air from the heater makes me shiver as I press a few napkins to my wound before resting my head against the steering wheel.

True to his word, Ryann pulls up beside me precisely ten minutes later, stepping out of his car just as I climb out of mine.

“What happened?” he asks, opening an umbrella and holding it above me, dressed in jeans.

“I accidentally hit a curb. I think it popped the bead.”

He follows me to the passenger side, scanning the mess I’ve made before studying me with a frown. “Jesus Christ, you’re soaking wet. Let me see your hand.”

Taking it gingerly, he pulls away the bloody napkins with a grimace. “We need to get that cleaned. Come on.”

Ryann starts to lead me by the wrist toward his car, his touch unbearably warm against my frozen skin, and I pull back stubbornly. “W-what about the t-tire?”

“I’ll have Declan help me with it in the morning when it stops raining. You’re freezing, Shilo. Let me get you dry and take care of that cut.”

It’s a terrible idea to get in his car. I know it is. But my jaw hurts from how hard my teeth are chattering, and I can’t feel my toes anymore. So with a reluctant nod, I let him guide me to the passenger seat. He gently pushes me down into the warm leather, shaking out the umbrella before climbing behind the wheel. Heat blasts from the vents, filling the car with welcome warmth, and I sigh softly, sinking into his familiar scent.

He glances at me sideways. “My place is closer than yours. It’ll make more sense if we go there.”

Logically, I know he’s right. My head tells me I should insist he take me home, but my heart has other ideas. I nod weakly and shut my eyes, curling up in the seat as soft music plays through the speakers, lulling me into a fragile peace.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I know, Ryann’s nudging me awake in the parking garage beneath his building with an odd look on his face.

“You alright?”

Blinking, I nod, rubbing at my eyes before hissing as the jagged cut on my palm flares in pain. “I’m fine. Just sleepy.”

His gaze lingers for a moment before he turns away. “Let’s get you inside.”

The elevator ride to his condo feels endless. I keep yawning, wet strands of hair clinging to my forehead as I fight the urge to lean against him for support. My entire body feels drained, utterly sapped of energy.

When we step into his foyer, I notice the puddle of water forming beneath me. Every step leaves droplets on his marble floors as we move through the living room and down a long hallway. Eventually, he leads me into a spacious bathroom. Why do we always end up in bathrooms?

“I’ll get you something to wear. Take off those clothes and warm up.” Pulling out a towel from the cupboard, he hands it to me before disappearing back into the hall. I watch him go, debating on whether I should do what he says.

Being naked around him is the last thing that should happen right now, but one look in the backlit mirror above a black granite sink has me grimacing. I look like a drowned cat, purple streaks running down the sides of my face and neck from the fresh dye KC just put in earlier.

Turning my back on my reflection, I pull off the soaked hoodie and toss it to the ground with a wet plop before kicking off my socks and shoes. There’s no shirt underneath, so my jeans follow shortly after, and I wrap the soft towel around my shoulders to hide my torso. Luckily, it’s big enough that it almost covers my balls, but it’s not like Ryann hasn’t seen them before.

He knocks on the door a second later, stepping inside with a pair of sweats and a University of Washington T-shirt. “They’ll be loose on you, but they’re dry. Come into the kitchen when you’re dressed.”

Without a backward glance, he leaves again, and I do my best to wipe away the streaks of dye staining my skin before pulling on his clothes. The shirt hangs down to my thighs, and the pants need to be tightened at the waist, but they smell like him. The scent has my stomach flipping, blood rushing south, and before I know it, my neglected dick is stirring to life.

Frickin’ hell.

Cheeks burning, I tuck myself up into the waistband, trying to focus on anything but the fact that I’m hard from just wearing his clothes.

Once I’ve gotten my hair as dry as possible, I pad barefoot into the kitchen. Ryann’s leaning against the counter, sipping from a steaming mug in the dim lighting. When his gaze flicks over me, something shifts in his expression, darkening briefly before he turns away. Whatever that look meant, I don’t have time to figure it out.

“Come here.” He turns on the sink, setting down his mug and handing me another one when I reach him. “It’s chamomile. My mother used to make it for me when I couldn’t sleep. Give me your hand.”

Squinting at him, I take a loud slurp of the tea. “Only if you say pretty please . ”

His lips twitch, curving into a crooked smile. “Pretty please, Shilo, let me clean out your cut so you don’t get tetanus.”

Holy shit.

Shocked that he actually said it, I let him run my palm under warm water, studying his profile as he scrubs out the wound. A few days’ worth of stubble dusts his chin, giving him a rugged look amplified by his messy hair.

My eyes greedily take him in, soaking up every detail. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear jeans before. It’s weird.”

He huffs, keeping his gaze down as he spreads some ointment on my hand. “These are probably the only pair I own. I threw them on quickly when you called. You’re lucky this won’t need stitches.”

His gentle touch sends mixed signals to my brain, each electric pulse skittering from my palm to my toes. As he wraps the bandage around my hand, he rubs it lightly to ensure it’s secure, his face so close now that his breath tickles my nose.

“Are you hungry?”

Yes, but not for food. “I’m alright. Kansas fed me.”

“At least someone did,” he mutters, looking down to where his hand still holds mine. The weight of his tone reminds me of what happened at the gym earlier, and my chest tightens.

“Carpenter is straight,” I blurt out quickly. “At least, I think. I’m pretty sure he’s got a secret crush on Kansas, but I haven’t known him long enough to tell.”

Ryann stills, his hazel gaze shifting to my face, unreadable. The silence stretches, and the back of my neck burns with embarrassment.

“I just thought I’d make that clear, b-because of how things looked earlier. But I’m not really into Carpenter that way…just so you know.”

“I said it wasn’t my business,” he replies gruffly, letting go of my hand before turning away. “You’re a big boy, Shilo. You can interact with whoever you want, however you want.”

I’ve never hated the sound of my name on his lips more than this moment.

Opening a trunk near the bar, he pulls out a blanket and pillow, tossing them onto the couch. “If it’s alright with you, I’m going back to bed. I’m exhausted. You can use the couch tonight, and I’ll take you back to your car in the morning to change that tire.”

KC’s words about Ryann not letting hookups in his bed flash through my mind as I glare at the sectional, wondering how much bodily fluids might be lurking on it. I’m never sitting on that thing again.

“I’ll just take the floor. Or the bathtub,”

His brows furrow up as he freezes, studying me with a narrowed gaze. “Why don’t you want to sleep on my couch?”

“Cuz,” I mumble, ducking my head to place my empty mug in the sink.

Within three strides, he’s in front me, his fingers tilting my chin up. “Don’t hide from me, Shilo. Tell me why you’d rather sleep in a bathtub.”

“Because you… you’ve probably never fucked anyone there. And I don’t want to sleep someplace where that’s happened.”

His lips part slightly, eyes widening as they flit between mine. I’m so uncomfortable that I focus on his ear instead of meeting his gaze. After a moment, his hand trails down when I swallow, thumb brushing gently against the hollow of my throat. He can probably feel my pulse hammering wildly, and my breath grows shallow, but I refuse to look at him.

“Alright,” he finally says softly, nodding as if coming to a decision. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Turning abruptly, his hand falls away, leaving me cold and confused as he strides toward the hall.

“Go where?”

“To bed. Come on before I change my mind.”

Excitement jolts me awake, lighting a fire under my previously exhausted feet. I hurry after him, blinking in awe as I step into his bedroom for the first time. The bed is massive, swathed in gray and black linens, under a canopy of gauzy curtains. A full wall of windows lets in the soft glow of city lights, and beyond a set of closed French doors, I catch sight of a balcony with a lounger.

“Your room is bigger than Kansas’s apartment,” I marvel, turning slowly to take it all in.

Ryann shrugs, disappearing into a walk-in closet that’s probably large enough to qualify as a third bedroom. “Believe it or not, Declan’s is bigger. He went for space while I went for practicality.”

“What about that is practical?“ Following him, I point to a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

He throws me an annoyed glance over his shoulder. “Do you mind? I need to change out of these jeans that you seem to think are weird.”

Oh. Turning back around, I give him privacy as I jump onto his bed, nuzzling into soft pillows. His spicy scent is everywhere—on the sheets, on my clothes, on my skin. Something about that fact makes my brain fuzzy and my dick harder than it already was.

With a groan, I slip under the covers, sighing at the warmth just as Ryann reenters the room. He’s wearing a pair of sweats now, his broad shoulders bare, and he pauses for half a second when his eyes land on me.

“By all means, make yourself comfortable,” he says dryly, a faint edge to his tone.

Suddenly self-conscious, I bolt upright with a startled squeak. “S-sorry, did you mean for me to sleep on the floor? I’ll move–”

“Lay back down and go to sleep,” he growls, flicking off the light as he crawls in beside me.

Pulling my knees to my chest, I glance at him sideways. “Why are you angry?”

“I’m not. Go to sleep.”

Grumbling softly, I flop onto my side, keeping my arms locked around my knees as I face him. “Sure sounds like it.”

He puts a hand behind his head and doesn’t respond, stretching onto his back beneath the covers. I can feel the warmth from his body even though he’s on the very edge of the bed, still close enough for me to reach out and touch him if I wanted, but I don’t. Instead, I keep my hands to myself, studying his silhouette in the dark. The curtains are open, letting in just enough light to splay shadows over his broad chest, abs rising and falling with every breath, full lips slightly parted.

I have to bite back a whimper as I squeeze my thighs from the pressure in my sweatpants.

“Close your eyes, Shilo,” he sighs, and my lids fall shut even though I doubt I’ll get any sleep with how horny I am. Maybe it’ll eventually go away if I ignore it?

Except it doesn’t. The longer I lay next to him, the more uncomfortable it gets, and I rotate around like a rotisserie chicken until Ryann eventually snarls at me.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I can’t sleep,” I whine, glaring up at the canopy when I settle onto my back, and he leans over me.

“Yes, I’ve noticed. Why?”

“It’s just that I…” Trailing off, my teeth find my bottom lip as I shake my head, about to turn away.

He grabs my jaw before I can hide. “Goddammit, spit it out so that I can get some rest. It’s just that you what ?”

“I’m hard, okay?“ Tearing my face from his grip, I flip over and cross my arms. “It’s been weeks since I’ve touched it, and now that you’re close by, my dick won’t go down. It hurts.”

He’s quiet for so long that I think he might have fallen asleep, but then I feel the sheets rustle behind me. “Do you need to come, baby doll?”

His accent is thick, rumbling in my ear, and the whimper I’ve held back finally falls from my lips.

“Yes. Please.”

“Mm, roll over and touch yourself.”

A shiver wracks my body as I follow his command, finding his gaze intently on me when I reach under the covers to pull out my length. As soon as my hand wraps around it, I hum in relief, feeling my eyes sting with that first stroke.

Ryann reaches out to pull the blanket down, exposing me to the open air, his deep groan vibrating the bed as he watches me pleasure myself.

“Have you been holding out for me, Shilo?” He sounds pleased, taking my hand off my shaft, and he brings it to his lips with a smirk when I cry out in protest. “Has my little doll been waiting for permission to come?”

Honestly, I hadn’t intended to, but I think he’s right. I like it when my pleasure belongs to him.

“Please,” I whisper, panting as he fills my palm with his spit before placing it back on my cock.

“Please, what?”

With his fingers wrapped around mine, he starts to jerk me slowly, pushing down on my hips when I try to thrust into our fists.

“Please let me come, Ryann.”

“Fuck, you sound so sweet when you beg,” he breathes, pumping me faster, making me feel so good that my neck arches off the pillow when I toss my head back and moan.

Slick sounds fill the room, each pass he makes over my tip sending rivulets of precum down my length. It drips onto my sack, coating my taint, hole clenching with need.

I want him inside me again, but I…can’t let it happen.

So instead, I let him work me with my own fist until I’m shooting onto my shirt, painting it with cum while I turn my face into the pillow and bite. Once he’s squeezed every last drop out of me, Ryann lifts his fingers to my mouth, growling softly when I open automatically and suck my release from his skin. Any remaining ounce of energy completely vanishes, leaving my body limp as I turn onto my side with a blissful smile and close my eyes.

He huffs next to me. “Your shirt is a mess.”

“Technically, it’s your shirt.“ Cracking open a lid, I catch sight of the bulge in the crotch of his sweats and scoot closer. “Do you want me to—“

“No, Shilo, I want to go to sleep,” he snaps, rolling away from me, but I’m too tired to even care about his surliness.

“Kay.” Yawning into my arm, I curl up against his back, feeling his spine go rigid. I don’t move, though.

He relaxes after a while, anyway, and the warmth of his body, combined with his soft breath, has me falling into one of the best sleeps I’ve ever had.