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/> Reaching up, I grab onto his hip to steady myself—to anchor myself in the middle of this maelstrom of pleasure and heat—and slowly, slowly pull back until only his head is between my lips. He arches a little, his hips thrusting upward as he searches for more. I stay where I am, though, and keep him where he is, too, as I flick my tongue back and forth across the small bundle of nerves centered at the bottom of his tip.
His fingers twist in my hair as he calls my name, harsh and breathless, but I don’t stop. I can’t. It feels too good to do this to him, feels too good to watch the always-in-control Garrett lose a little more of himself with every slide of my mouth, every stroke of my tongue.
“Lola, Lola, Lola.” Half-chant, half-mantra, he calls my name again and again and again.
I like the sound of it, like his sweat-slicked skin beneath my palms even more, so I reward him by sucking all of him slowly, carefully, into my mouth and down my throat.
He groans again, and when I look up at him, it’s to find him staring down at me with dark eyes and blown-out pupils. He looks good like this, so good, all sexed up and raunchy as hell. This Garrett is so different from the prince the world gets to see that I can’t help the shiver of delight that moves down my spine. Can’t help the little thrill that tightens my nipples and makes my sex throb hotly. I love that I get to see him in a way that no one else does, love even more the fact that the eyes staring down at me are unguarded, open.
Sucking him even deeper, I run my tongue along the underside of his cock just to see how he’ll react. He doesn’t disappoint, his hips slamming up like a piston, thrusting in and out of my mouth again and again and again.
“Fuck, Lola, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful,” he says hoarsely. “So fucking beautiful. But you’ve got to stop. I don’t want to come yet.”
His words slide along my nerve endings, sending shocks of electricity through the most sensitive parts of me. I pull off, then let his cock rub against my breasts as I tell him, “I want you to come. I want to see you lose control.”
He mutters something filthy in French as he reaches down and pinches my nipple between his thumb and index finger. I cry out—I can’t help it—as my whole body goes on high alert. I’m breathless now, shaking, my nipples tight and my underwear soaked through.
It would be so easy to give in to him, so easy to let him take over and make me come half a dozen times. But that’s not what tonight is about and it’s not what I want, no matter what my body currently feels.
I pull away. I don’t go far, but I do put just enough space between us for Garrett to understand that I’m not messing with him. Not this time.
“I need you to come for me,” I say. “I need to see you.”
He doesn’t answer, but then I don’t expect him to as my lips close over him once again, my tongue continuing to move back and forth along his length as I reach for his balls and press my finger to a spot on the underside that makes him cry out. That makes him try to pull away.
But I’m having none of it. Cupping his ass in my palms, I pull him tightly against me and once again slide his entire length down my throat. I stroke my tongue across the underside of his cock and rub my fingers on the sensitive spot right behind his balls. Then I hum in the back of my throat, and the ensuing vibrations have him calling out my name in a husky, strangled voice that only eggs me on.
I hum again, then suck him as deep as I can take him without gagging. He stiffens, calls out my name one more time, and tangles his fingers more tightly in my hair. And then he comes, emptying himself into my mouth in an orgasm that goes on and on and on.
When it’s over, I release him slowly. He’s obviously drained, his skin flushed and his whole body trembling slightly. His breathing is harsh and his arm is thrown over his closed eyes.
His scars are standing out in stark relief on his flushed, sweat-slicked skin, and I take a moment to look at them. Really look at them. They’re a map of his suffering, of the pain he endured, and every part of me aches at the injustice of what he went through. Of what he’s going through still. And though I want to kiss every scar, want to smooth my hands over each and every one of them, I know that doing so will only make him suffer more.
So I settle for running my hands down his heaving sides and pressing soft kisses to the salty skin of his chest and shoulder and neck.
He wraps an arm around me and pulls me close. As he does, he turns me so that my breasts brush against his mouth. I’m still dressed, but that doesn’t stop Garrett from pressing kisses to my taut, aching nipples. Doesn’t stop him from reaching beneath my skirt and tearing my underwear off my body with one smooth yank.
Then he’s pulling my blouse off and flicking my bra open. Sliding a hand between my thighs. I’m hot and wet and so desperate for his touch that I cry out the moment his fingers slide against my sex. He groans in response as he slips one finger inside of me, followed closely by a second. I gasp as he works them back and forth, his thumb rubbing against my clit as I ride his hand.
It feels so good, he feels so good. I tilt my head so I can watch him watching me with that intent stare, those lust-blown eyes. And when he pulls me over him, my legs straddling his hips and his slowly lengthening cock nestled between my ass cheeks, I can’t help but gasp. Can’t help but moan his name.
His fingers move harder and faster within me and his other hand comes up to tweak my nipple. “Come for me,” he orders, his voice all black magic and beautiful.
And though I want this to last longer, though I want him to keep looking at me with those lust-blown eyes forever, my body can deny him nothing. I come on command, orgasm flooding through me, tightening every muscle in my body until I’m calling his name.
Garrett holds me throughout it, strokes me through it as he whispers sweet nothings in a darkly erotic mix of French and English. And then he’s sliding home before the contractions deep inside me have even stopped, lifting and lowering me on his cock until I can’t think, can’t breathe. Until all I can do is feel the ecstasy sizzling through my bloodstream.
Our eyes meet and hold, and it’s so intense I start to look away. But Garrett reaches up, holds my chin between his fingers, and keeps my gaze locked on his as he slams into me again and again and again. His beautiful blue eyes are blazing, burning, beckoning me closer even as they promise things I’m not sure I’m ready to believe.
But each second that passes with his eyes searing into mine takes me higher, each thrust of his hips bringing me closer and closer to coming again. I fight it, try to stop it. I’m not ready for this to end, not ready to move beyond this sensual maelstrom that makes me feel closer to Garrett than I have to anyone, ever.
But then he’s slipping a hand between us, stroking his thumb firmly against my clit. And suddenly it doesn’t matter what I want. It only matters what I need—and what Garrett needs from me.
“Come with me, sweetheart,” he whispers as he looks deep into my eyes. “I need to feel you. I need—”
He breaks off as I do as he asks, giving up the last vestiges of my control as my orgasm roars through me. I start to close my eyes, start to drop my head back, but he barks, “No! Let me see!” and I’m helpless to do anything but obey.
Helpless to do anything but give him everything as we come and come and come.
