Page 146 of A Million To Fall

I go back for more, tongue stroking her slick flesh, eliciting the most intoxicating little whimpers and moans from her mouth. Again. And again.

Her taste ruins me. She’s sweet and salty and addictive. I could nourish myself with it.

Her thighs open wider. I hook my arms under them, pull her in closer, and press my face to her, inhaling deeply. Her scent makes my brain short-circuit. My vision slips out of focus. It’s all instinct now. Her pleasure is the only thing that matters.

I zero in on her clit, circling my tongue around it slowly, gently, continuing to draw needy sounds from her chest that make my cock throb against the confines of my jeans. Then I suck—light at first, then deeper—pulling her into my mouth, flicking my tongue in short, focused strokes.

She cries out, hips rolling with purpose, chasing the friction.

“Boss.”

My name comes in broken gasps. No one’s ever said my name like that. Like it’s oxygen, and sustenance, and all the things she needs to survive.

I slide one hand up to her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple, while I spread her wider with the other so I can devour more of her, taste her arousal spilling over my lips.

“Fuck.” I can feel how close she is, her thighs trembling, her breathing turning ragged. I glide my tongue back to her clit—swollen with need—and slide a finger inside her.

She clenches around me, desperate moans tearing from her mouth. It’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard—Skye Emory Monroe unraveling beneath my hands.

“Don’t stop,” she gasps, eyes squeezed shut, her body trembling. “I think… oh God—”

Her hand fists in my hair, tugging hard at the roots, her hips chasing me like she doesn’t know whether to run from the feeling or hold on to it. And then she breaks.

Her whole body goes taut before shuddering against me, wave after wave stealing every breath from her lungs. I don’t stop tasting her. I couldn’t if I tried, too caught up in the wonder of her, in the privilege of being trusted with a moment this vulnerable.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” I moan, my need for her reaching a fever pitch.

Only when the tremors begin to soften do I ease the pressure, staying close, unwilling to let go of the way she feels just yet.

God, I love doing this to her. She’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

Her eyes flutter open—glassy, pupils blown—her breath still coming in pants.

If this is all I’ll ever get to have with her, I’d still be happier than I could’ve ever imagined.

But Skye reaches for the waistband of my jeans, unbuttoning them with hands that are decidedly more desperate than steady. I brace myself over her with one arm and work my jeans down my hips, my gaze glued to Skye’s lips as they tremble with anticipation.

Fuck, I—

Storm sirens ring out, the sound cutting through the room—the moment—like a gunshot.

Skye freezes.

So do I, my hand and both of hers still hooked into the waistband of my jeans.

No.

Not now.

It rings again.

Skye’s face contorts with pain or shame—maybe both—while my jaw tightens.

Another ring.

I sit back on my heels, giving Skye space to move out from underneath me. She touches a finger to her lips and throws me a look that somehow says both I’m sorry and please be quiet at the same time. Then she reaches for her phone on the floor.

I don’t need to look at the screen to know who it is.