Page 112 of Bitter When He Begs

I smack his ass, and he squeals. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

I shoulder open the hallway door and take the stairs two at a time, Sage still slung over me and not giving a shit who sees us. His ass is bouncing with every step. I swear he’s giggling.

“You’re gonna regret teasing me like that,” I mutter.

He kicks his heels playfully. “Not as much as you’re gonna regret not letting me finish what I was about to say.”

I slam open my bedroom door, stride straight inside, and kick it shut behind us. The music muffles, but not enough to matter. The Sin Bin doesn’t do quiet. I don’t care. They’re going to hear him tonight.

I drop him on the bed like a fucking prize. He pulls off his hoodie and shirt and sprawls out, breathless, that cocky grin stretching across his face like sin itself.

“I was going to tell you,” he purrs, sliding back on his elbows, “that I didn’t wear anything under these jeans.”

My brain blanks. “What?”

He slowly spreads his legs. “But now you’ll have to check for yourself, won’t you, King?”

And I’m on him in a second. One hand at his throat, not squeezing, just holding, just letting him feel it—what it means to mouth off like that. To lick my ear in a room full of my boys. To whisper filth like it’s a secret I wouldn’t burn down the whole fucking party to claim.

Because if he wants a lesson, I’m going to give it to him—loud.

Sage’s smirk doesn’t falter. “Didn’t like what I said?” he breathes, voice smug, pupils blown wide as he tilts his head, baring his throat under my grip.

“You said not to react,” I growl. “You knew I wouldn’t last thirty seconds.”

“I was counting on it.”

Fucking brat.

I drag my shirt over my head and press him back into the mattress with my weight, one knee wedging between his thighs,pinning him down. My mouth crashes into his—angry, fast, messy. All teeth and tongue, and control I’m not pretending to have anymore.

He moans into it, hips grinding up against my thigh. “You really came to my party like this?” I rasp, nipping his bottom lip hard enough to leave it red. “No fucking briefs? No boxers? Just cock pressed to denim and attitude?”

He gasps when I shove my hand down the front of his jeans with no hesitation. He bucks into my grip like he’s already losing it. “Fuck… Luca—”

I squeeze his cock. “You like acting like a little slut in public, Sunshine?”

“Only for you, King.”

My groan is immediate—deep, raw, and involuntary. That word. Thatfucking word. I swear, it’s designed to crawl straight under my skin and short-circuit every coherent thought I have.

I yank his jeans down hard enough to pop the button. His cock springs free—red and leaking, and so fucking ready for me.

Sage hums, smug as hell, hips twitching up toward my hand. “See?” he murmurs, breathless. “I told you I didn’t wear anything. Thought maybe you’d be smart enough to come find out sooner.”

I grip the base of his cock and stroke once—slow, punishing, tight enough to make him gasp and throw his head back against the pillow.

“You want smart?” I hiss, leaning over him. “Smart would’ve been keeping your mouth shut.”

“Boring,” he pants. “You wouldn’t want me if I was quiet.”

Little slut is right.

I spit into my hand and wrap it back around him, jerking him off while his legs spread wide for me like he’s offering himself up for whatever I want to do. His lips part in a moan, and his hips fuck into my grip like he can’t help himself.

“You gonna come like this?” I ask. “From just my hand? You that goddamn needy tonight?”

“Not yet,” he breathes. “Want your mouth first.”

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