Her mind, as it sometimes did in these moments, wandered to Tyler Henderson. She didn’t know if any real dominant tendencies lay behind his commanding façade, but the idea that they might did stuff to her. Whenever she was struggling to finish herself, she slotted him into her fantasies and she was there within seconds. Unable to help herself, she did it now.

“You horny little slut,” she imagined him saying as he thrust into her throat. “You like staring at me? Imagining me fucking your needy little body? This is what you deserve.”

Kate moaned, the razor blade of wrongness grating oh-so-pleasurably against the whetstone of her arousal. She felt kind of bad for pretending Rugby Boy was someone else, but who was to say he wasn’t picturing the Hadid sisters or Ansel Elgort or something? She began moving her mouth and hands even faster, needing him to finish, needing to be a good girl.

Rugby Boy’s fist tightened in her hair. “You like suckin’ dick, huh?”

Kate confirmed her liking-ness with a moan.

“Tell me you like it. Say my name.”

Uh oh.

Kate sucked deeper, hoping to override the question with sheer blowjob excellence, but Rugby Boy pulled on her hair so that she released him with a ‘pop.’ “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“You tell me you like it, right now and you say my name while you do it.”

Oh geez. Kate began flipping through a mental Rolodex of possible names. Sean was a common name. Statistically, there was a good chance he was called Sean. Should she call him Sean? No, she shouldn’t call him Sean. Maybe she could give him a cute epithet instead. ‘I like sucking your cock, babe.’

No, not babe. ‘Handsome,’ or ‘sexy’ didn’t seem right either. But what the hell did that leave? High Commissioner? Lord and Savior? Mine Führer?

“I’m waiting,” he snarled.

Panic rose in her gut and it occurred to her; this was a one-night stand; she could call Rugby Boy what she always wanted to call the men she was in bed with. It might freak him out, but she wasn’t going to see him again. And surely, since she was sucking him off, he could cut her some slack in the name-calling department? Kate smiled up at the shadow she assumed was his face. “I like sucking your cock, Daddy.”

Rugby Boy’s body went rigid. The hand in her hair fell limply to her side. Kate’s cheeks grew hot, and she wondered whether she should try to force down her shame using his cock as a plunger, or sit up, wipe her mouth and try to explain that what she’d said had nothing, not one thing, to do with incest.

Before she could decide on either, his hand rose, clasping her hair once more. “Say that again.”