“So… real talk, King. Let’s get real,” I said, voice already dropping lower, thicker, dripping with want.

“Everyone wants to know the number. What’s your actual body count—on screen and off?”

He leaned back into the wide hotel-suite couch, thighs spreading wide in that lazy, arrogant way men do when they know their dick is the main event. Those soft grey sweatpants hugged him obscenely, outlining every thick inch of that heavy, relaxed length resting along his thigh. Shirtless, his abs flexed with each slow breath, deep cuts catching the dim light. Arms draped along the back of the couch, biceps bulging just enough to make me imagine them pinning...