Page 101 of The Has-Been

I kick off my heels, standing…waiting.

Is he going to make me beg for it?

No.

No, we agreed—no talking.

And as if to answer my silent question, he grins widely, his straight, white teeth gleaming at me, and then he points his index finger at the ground.

Liam Anderson doesn’t want me to beg.

He wants me to fucking crawl.

My breath spasms, even as heat pools at my core, demanding I obey the order. I’ve never crawled for anyone in my life—it seems too humiliating, diminishing.

But why am I so fucking wet then? If I’m so opposed to the idea?

Is it because crawling—following his command—feels right? Letting go of control, giving in to what my brain and heart want, allowing someone else to dictate my movements?

I sink onto my hands and knees, my hair cascading around me. He lowers himself, so he’s eye level with me, watching greedily as my breasts hang, nipples in firm peaks. Then he holds out his hand, inching his finger forward, in a motion that silently screams: Come here.

And so, I begin to crawl.

Liam kneels, calling me to him with that inching finger like I’m his fucking dog.

The anticipation is building and building in my chest, at my slick center.

I’m breathless as I cross the final space toward him, my thighs so wet from want that they basically slide against one another like they are separated by silk.

By the time he finally reaches his hand out to touch me, he tips my head up to meet the green of his eyes.

He stands to his full height, leaving me on the ground. His eyes find me below, and I shift my weight, pushing myself onto the back of my legs, so I’m now comfortably kneeling before him.

Liam traces his thumb over my bottom lip, sticking his thumb into my mouth. Similar to how he had when I had straddled him in my bed, but this time it is not gentle or teasing.

It’s rough, urgent.

I am reminded once again of the saltiness of his skin as he curls his thumb over my bottom teeth and prys my mouth open.

Fuck, this no-talking thing is hot, I think as his other hand slowly finds his belt.

I refuse to meet his blaring gaze and choose instead to watch his hands move, freeing himself of his suit pants.

Even with the dim evening sun and the cabin’s lights all turned out, I can see how thick and hard he is.

I want to taste every inch, just as I did in that hotel room.

Swallowing my anticipation, I find his gaze. His nostrils flare, and he nods. Giving me the silent permission to touch him—taste him.

I don’t waste a fucking second.

I take him in my mouth. And I ruin the façade as I giggle against his erection when he groans.

I pull him free of my mouth as a popping sound leaves my lips—all from the lack of suction as I withdraw. Pressing my finger to my lips, I sign for him to stay silent.

I swallow dryly as Liam’s eyes go wild and he grabs his length, my mouth immediately dropping open as he shoves himself back inside my mouth—further ensuring we remain quiet.

He gives me no time to adjust, to relax my throat as he pushes himself deeper, until he threatens to hit the back of my throat. But I impress even myself when I remain silent, no choking sounds leaving me as he continues inching himself deeper and deeper. My eyes water, my mouth threatening to sputter from the sheer size of him, but I fight it off, taking all of him.