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He bites his bottom lip, then his tongue flicks out to wet that too. And then he dives in like there’s no tomorrow. I gasp, my body arching from the sheer pleasure of feeling his tongue right there on my clit.
He cups my ass with both hands while toying with me in a way that feels like he’s known my body for ages. All the nooks and crannies, all the delicious little spots, he knows just where to hit them right.
Closing my eyes, I struggle to breathe as my heart rate shoots up into the stratosphere. I feel guilty, heinous, for enjoying something so wrong, so evil, yet it feels so damn good that I want more.
More. More!
“Fuck!”
The word slips out before I realize it, and that goddamn infuriating grin spreads across his face again. His tongue dips out, and with the tip, he touches my pussy, his hands moving to my thighs to keep me spread. And I know right then that he’s enjoying every fucking step of the unraveling of Monica Romero.
“Don’t be so greedy, Mo,” he murmurs, planting a kiss on my pussy before he continues to suck me.
I wish I could answer—that I could tell him to fuck off and let me be. That I could get up from this fucking couch and tell him to his face that he’s an asshole for seducing me yet again when I had no fight left in me and had already used up my defenses against him.
That I could stop myself from feeling so guilty for wanting a guy who’s unattainable and out of bounds.
That I could force my body not to enjoy every inch of pleasure he’s giving me right now.
Because damn, he knows how to make me squirm.
“Oh, God,” I moan as he keeps licking me to the point I can barely hold on.
“Cole will do,” he quips, grinning against my skin.
“Shut up,” I retort, trying not to get upset when everything started feeling so good.
“Only if you come for me,” he whispers.
My eyes widen as I look up at him diving between my legs. Did my ears really hear that right? Did he ask me to come?
He keeps licking me and swirling around in my pussy, and I’m finding it hard to breathe, let alone respond to his words. My eyes almost roll into the back of my head from sheer pleasure, and my whole body is heating up.
“Do it … Let me see you come,” he murmurs, digging his fingers into my thighs as though he’s salivating from the mere thought of me falling apart.
My hands clutch the couch, fingers digging in deep as I grow desperate for more. My mind has completely lost all form of reason, and lust has taken over. All I can think of is his tongue on me, his hands wrapped around my thighs, and the delicious shocks zapping through my body.
“Look at me,” he groans, his tongue still swiveling back and forth.
But when I do, the sheer hunger in his eyes sends me off the edge.
Ecstasy overflows my body, and I fall apart right then and there, causing me to quake underneath him while he laps me up.
My body is still in complete overdrive when he plants slow, delectable kisses all over my thighs, lavishly licking me like a lion.
“How’s that for punishment?” he murmurs.
My eyes widen, and as the orgasm subsides, it finally dawns on me what just happened. What I just let him do to me.
I scoot up on the couch and crawl away from him, shaking my head. “I … You …”
“What?” He raises a bold brow. “Cat got your tongue again?”
My face scrunches up. He caught me again and fucked me up with his tongue like it was easy to him. And for what? Just to mark me down as one of his conquests? Payment for destroying his guitar?
“Fuck you,” I snarl in anger, and I get up from the couch and pat down my dress.
He frowns, looking confused as hell. “That’s not a nice way to say thank you.”
“You tricked me,” I growl.
“Tricked you?” He snorts. “You were the one who destroyed my guitar for attention, remember?”
“I didn’t do it for attention!” I yell back.
I try not to let it get to me, but it’s hard, knowing that he’s managed to make me come twice now without me being able to resist. And that he did it just so he could punish me. To show me that I’m not in control of my own body.
I can’t believe I gave in so easily and that I’ve now become part of the long list of girls that fawned over him.
Pathetic.
I march for the door.
“Where are you going?” he asks, standing up straight, his clearly tented boxer shorts still visible underneath those zipped down pants.
I gulp but force myself to remain focused. “I’m not one of your conquests, Cole.” My heart can’t handle this. “I’m not a toy to some rock star. I can’t fucking do this.”
