“Relax,” he purrs as if he’s proud of what he’s doing. “I’m just getting started.”
I’m about to come.
To my fucking senses.
He’s still tonguing the wrong spot, his muscle dipping into the crease of my thigh as I deadpan at the ceiling. The lights are on. How the fuck does he not see what he’s doing?
I bite back a sigh, my core dry and not at all prepped as he becomes sloppy and finally finds his way to my pussy. His nose bumps my clit, and I let out a moan, hoping it will coach him. Instead, he dips right in, no plan, as he finds my entrance.
Okay, that’s not so bad.
He’s making a fucking motion, his head bobbing as something finally sparks in my lower belly. It starts out small, lighting a little flame in me as I ride out the pleasure. It isn’t consuming and Earth-shattering, but it’s getting the job done as my muscles begin to coil. Lazy orgasms aren’t my favorite, but at least I’ll have something.
He makes his way upward, lavishing my hardened bud as I turn to jelly. My hands curl into his hair, tugging slightly.
He grabs my wrist, pulling back. “Ouch. Not so rough, baby.”
My eyes fly open, a record scratching as I lose my release altogether. It withers away before my eyes, dying dramatically as if it’s a whisper on the wind. “Sorry,“ I bite, releasing his hair before my hands slap down on the bed, and I ball the sheets in my fists.
He continues, and I close my eyes, focusing on the sensations to build myself back up. It’s hard to keep my mind from wandering, and as it strays to something forbidden—
The shrill ring of a phone I know all too well fractures any arousal I had. It’s coming from Dylan’s pocket, tucked away from my sight as I narrow my eyes on him.
He hangs his head, sighing as he stands to answer it. He’s holding the device up to his ear when I stop him.
“Who would be calling you at this time?” I ask in bewilderment. It’s almost ten.
“It’s my secretary,” he says, turning away from me as he answers. “Hello?”
There’s a muffled conversation that I can’t hear as I angrily rise and yank my underwear back on. Dylan’s whole frame becomes rigid as he grips the phone with both hands.
“Are you serious?” He whispers in a hiss. “Right now?”
I frown at his back, a tiny tug yanking deep in my subconscious as a woman’s voice reaches me. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but my fiancé is entirely invested.
“I’m on my way,” he says quickly before hanging up. He lowers the phone like it weighs a hundred pounds in his hand.
“Well?” I snap.
He drags a hand down his face, already halfway to the door and somewhere else in his head. “I have to go.”
A hollow laugh escapes me as I cross my arms. “Of course you do…”
“It’s urgent,” he calls behind him as he heads to Kaden’s old room to grab his bag and his shoes.
I’m trailing him, rage swelling to a scalding temperature. “It’s ten o’clock at night, Dylan!” I protest as he pushes past me and takes the stairs.
“It’s work,” he says over his shoulder, his voice despondent and sterile.
My feet smack against the stairs with heavy thuds as we make it to the first floor. “What kind of emergency requires you to run out in the middle of the fucking night?”
Kaden rises from the couch, blinking bleary-eyed as his bare chest rumbles with a yank. He leans across the back of the sofa, holding up a hand. “Can I weigh in?”
“No,” Dylan and I snap in unison.
My brother’s brows shoot up before he eases back down. “Alright.Yeesh.”
Dylan turns to me, his bag’s strap slung over his shoulder and his face impassive. “Don’t start, Melody. Not tonight.”
