Riley tossed the pee stick into the trash can and peeled off his gloves. He stood there, on the other side of the room as if she had a disease. He frowned at her. “I have to ask. How long have you been sexually active, Sage?” She looked at him from beneath her lashes, soaking in his presence. Since he’d rejected her the other day, she’d been obsessed with the thought of tossing him to the ground and fucking the shit out of him. She wanted him more than ever but he seemed even more remote. This was going to take some work. Riley wasn’t Sanders or Davidson or Browning, or any of the other horny fucks in the billet who would whip it out and shoot their cum into her at the drop of a hat. Riley was going to require a very cautious approach. “Just a couple days.” She rearranged the drape he’d given her. She was naked beneath it, her quim making damp stains on the cot. “Since the day you passed out?” She glanced at him. “I just can’t seem to help myself.” He crossed his arms.
