"Tell honestly, Ross. Are you just using to get back at my sister, Sandra?" Amy asked, her voice calm but laced with an undertone of doubt.
They were lounging on the couch in Amy's house, watching an action movie.
A large bowl of popcorn sat between them, half-empty, and glasses of orange juice rested on the coffee table.
The room was dimly lit, the flickering glow of the television casting shifting shadows across their faces.
It was one of those quiet, easygoing nights where they could talk about anything and everything.
Ross didn't even glance at her. His attention remained fixed on the screen as he replied, "Of course. My reason for wanting you hasn't changed at all. But hey, it's a great bonus that you're beautiful and have an insanely sexy body." He smirked slightly.
"Sooner or later, you'll be mine. Everything I want eventually falls into my hands. It's just a matter of ti."
Amy wasn't surprised by his arrogance—she had known Ross long enough to be familiar with his self-assured, almost ruthless nature.
But that didn't an she took his words lightly. She studied him for a mont, searching for any flicker of sincerity beyond his usual cocky deanor.
"And if you do get ," she continued, her tone unwavering, "if you succeed and actually get to fuck —what then?"
This ti, Ross finally turned his head to look at her. His dark eyes glead with amusent, but there was sothing else there too—sothing possessive.
He leaned back against the couch, a lazy grin stretching across his face.
"I'll marry you, of course," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"You'll be mine forever. And I'll fuck you every day, anyti I want."
Amy held his gaze, her fingers tightening slightly around her glass.
She wasn't sure if she should be flattered, insulted, or wary. Maybe all three.
Still, Amy couldn't ignore the warmth spreading through her body, the subtle ache between her legs that only grew stronger the longer she was around Ross.
Technically, she was still William's girlfriend, but their relationship had started to feel more like an obligation than a romance.
They only saw each other at school, exchanged a few texts here and there, and that was it.
anwhile, she had been spending nearly every evening alone with Ross, feeling his presence, hearing his voice, breathing in his intoxicating scent.
She knew she was falling for him.
Ross was everything William wasn't—brutally honest, strong, confident, completely unshaken by anything.
There was no pretense with him, no need to play the perfect, innocent girlfriend. He saw through her, exposed her desires, and made her feel things she had never experienced before.
She was undeniably drawn to him, not just emotionally but physically.
Her body betrayed her every ti he was near. The warmth of his presence sent tingles down her spine, and the deep, masculine scent of him made her stomach tighten with anticipation.
She couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't stop imagining what it would feel like to be touched by him, kissed by him, claid by him.
The irony wasn't lost on her. She had always told herself she was saving herself for William, that she would give him her virginity on their honeymoon, make their first ti special and aningful.
It had been her plan for years. But fate had a cruel way of playing with people's hearts. Because right now, in this mont, she wasn't thinking about William at all.
She was thinking about Ross.
A slow, almost mischievous smile curled on her lips as she glanced at him.
His gaze was still on the TV, but there was a knowing smirk playing at the corner of his lips, as if he could already tell what was running through her mind.
"Okay then," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the movie.
"I don't think I'm against that. In fact… I kind of like it."
She didn't wait for a response.
Leaning in, she pressed her lips against his, testing, teasing, tasting.
His lips were warm, firm, and the mont she felt him respond, a shiver of excitent ran down her spine. But she didn't stop there.
Shifting, she swung a leg over his lap and settled herself on top of him, straddling him completely.
The movent was slow, deliberate, and when she felt the undeniable hardness pressing against her barely-covered pussy, a soft gasp escaped her lips.
She was only wearing a pair of tiny shorts and a loose tank top—clothes ant for comfort, not for resisting temptation.
And now, as her hips pressed against his, she could feel everything.
Her breath hitched, her hands sliding into his hair as the kiss deepened, her body molding against his.
He slled so damn good, and the warmth radiating from him made her thighs clench instinctively.
Ross let out a low chuckle, his hands settling on her waist, his grip firm but unhurried.
"Looks like you finally figured out what you really want."
Amy didn't deny it.
Because tonight, everything was going to change.
Ross didn't waste a second. With one swift motion, he pulled off his shirt and tossed it carelessly to the side.
The fabric barely hit the floor before Amy's gaze was locked onto his bare torso, her breath catching in her throat.
He was absolutely perfect.
His broad shoulders, chiseled abs, and powerful chest looked like they had been sculpted by the gods themselves.
Every muscle was defined, every inch of him radiating sheer strength and dominance. In this mont, he wasn't just a man—he was the embodint of masculinity, raw and untad.
Amy couldn't help herself.
Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch him, to trace the hard lines of his abs, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips.
Hesitantly, she reached out, her hands pressing against his solid chest.
A thrill ran through her as she felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the heat of his body seeping into her palms.
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