My head snapped toward him. He wasn’t even looking at me—eyes on the TV, one ankle crossed over his knee like nothing in the world was wrong. But the corner of his mouth curved, just a little. Smug. Knowing.

I swallowed hard. “A little.”

“Good.” He took another slow sip of beer, throat working again. “Wanted you to feel me today. Every time you moved. ”

My face burned hot. I pressed my thighs together harder under the blanket I’d pulled over my lap, trying to ease the ache. “Asshole.”

He smirked, still not looking at me. “You liked it last night when I fucked you like one.”

Mathew came...