Savage Mafia Prince

Savage

T he way Micah is looking down at me—long shadows cast on his face by the little bedside lamp—is predatory. Which should probably make me nervous, but instead it just brings back a trickle of the arousal that fled me so abruptly before.

I don’t know what happened. Everything felt amazing. I loved the way he was watching me, and the unabashed way he had started the whole thing. I was worried he was going to force me into several mind-bending conversations about what this all means, but instead he let us go with the flow.

It was perfect. Until the stray thought crossed my mind about what would happen if my boner fled the scene. Which made me nervous. Which triggered an immediate cascade of sensations marked by panic and the curling, quivering shame that led to me wanting nothing more than to crawl away and hide so he couldn’t see my soft, useless cock.