Page 93 of King of Hollywood

“You can’t help that you’re short,” I replied without thinking, trying to shove him farther up the bed so I’d have ample room.

Felix cackled, his head falling back as he wiggled backward to help me in my mission. Ah, there. Now my knees were on the bed. Good. “No, I mean—that I didn’t get your pizza thing.”

“Oh,” I’d almost forgotten about that already.

It felt like years had passed as we’d climbed the stairs.

Felix helped me grapple with my polo, and with an annoyed grunt, I managed to tug it over my head and toss it away. He grinned up at me, his hands lying flat on my abdomen as I knelt between his legs, chest heaving. His palms were cool. Confident. He petted over the muscle on my lower belly, before gently sliding upward, leaning up to chase his own grip.

The look on his face was positively filthy, lips flushed and swollen, his eyes blood red.

Fuck.

He was delicious.

“Naked,” I commanded, tingling when Felix’s fingers combed through the hair on my chest, before sliding over to pluck at one of my nipples. I shivered, and he grinned—wide and wicked.

“I’m working on it.”

“Not me. You,” I scowled at him, and he laughed, not at all cowed.

“We’ll get me in a minute,” Felix countered, voice as rough as my own. Normally he was all melodic, smooth edges. Now, however, his voice was crackly soft. “Let me look at you.”

I shivered again, my nipples hard and poking up rather obscenely. The thin dusting of golden hair on my chest made me question for a moment if I should’ve shaved it—only to realize that I’d done well leaving it alone, because Felix seemed to like it.

He seemed to like it quite a bit.

At least, if the way he tugged at it was any indication, a pleased grin on his face.

“You’re huge,” he said softly, heat simmering in his tone. “So fucking big.”

I shuddered. “Maybe you’re just small?”

“No, darling,” Felix’s voice somehow dropped even lower. One of his hands slid from my chest, down, down, down, fingers fanning along the fat swell of my cock where it pushed needily toward him. “You’re big,” he said again, and it was very clearly a compliment. My hips bucked into his grasp, a needy whine escaping me. “My big, loyal sweetheart.”

“You’ve ruined me,” I gasped out, because he was right. My loyalty knew no bounds. “I can’t stop thinking about you—” I shuddered again, the wet patch my cock had left on my boxers spreading to the fabric of my slacks, making it obvious how needy-horny-wet-wet-wet I was. “Not even spreadsheets are sacred anymore—”

Felix laughed, and that shouldn’t have made me even harder than I was—but it did. And then he did something totally unexpected. He flipped me over.

Felix.

Tiny.

Fucking.

Little.

Itty.

Bitty.

Felix.

Flipped me over.

As easily as if I’d been a pancake. One second I was leaning over him, chest heaving—and the next I was on my back, and I had a lap full of artificial-blond. I gasped out, shocked, but not angry at all. In fact, his show of strength was incredibly attractive.

Goddamn.