Up on the higher floor, there was a curse. And then the door slammed a second time.
Which was her cue to really go to work.
Staring up his bowed body, she met Dev’s eyes as he looked down at her. The sucking and the stroking fell into an immediate rhythm, and the flush that lit up his face glowed red as he strained and pumped with her.
She knew when he was getting close because he leaned down, as if to try to get her back on her feet.
Lyric shook her head with him in her mouth.
“I’m going to fucking—” The news flash ended on a strangled sound.
And then his pelvis punched forward, twice.
She swallowed everything he had to give her. But didn’t let him go.
It was a good move. Dev was ready for more as soon as he finished.
And so was she.
CHAPTER FORTY
Noodle legs.
Holy fucking shit, as Dev walked along the snow-covered urban sidewalk, he had seriously loose legs, to the point where he was amazed he was not only upright, but throwing out fairly even strides. Beside him, on the other hand, Lyric was having absolutely no problems with the ambulation—
He stole another glance at her.
She was fucking resplendent in the wind, her blond hair loose in the cold gusts, his windbreaker protecting her from the tundra temperature, her cheeks flushed from the chill. Or all that exertion back in the stairwell.
Dear Lord, from her damn exertion.
As they hit the straightaway back to her place at the Commodore, he kept replaying what she’d done to him, and what do you know. His dumb handle was beyond ready for more of her attention. Just the memory of her lowering herself onto her knees in front of him was enough to bring back the blood flow—and the fact that she had done it to him in that stairwell? With all those people in the convention center? She’d surprised the hell out of him.
Between her lips, and that leather top with her breasts almost spilling out—
“Whoops!”
As she grabbed for his arm, he snatched her from a free-fall, swinging her off her totally impractical thigh-high boots.
Not that he didn’t appreciate the boots. Fuck him very much, he wanted her to straddle him, wearing nothing but the frickin’ boots.
Lyric’s laughter was free and light in the winter night, and as he settled her against his chest with an arm behind her knees and another around the small of her back, he knew two things: He didn’t ever want to let her go; and he was going to have to do just that.
“We should have taken an Uber,” he said roughly as he started walking again.
“It’s not that far. Only, what—like eight blocks?”
“On ice. Those boots of yours are deadly.”
Lyric extended one leg out. “You don’t like them, huh.”
“Oh… I like them.” He ratherlikedthe idea of her making him kiss them. While he was on his hands and knees. “Just not outside in January in Caldwell.”
“You can put me down, you know.”
“I’m good. If you are.”
Lyric smoothed some of his hair back. Then she laid her head on his shoulder. As he continued on, he cherished the feel of her against him, the use of his muscles to keep her up off the ground, the way his body inflated with purpose.
