Page 113 of Falling for the Enemy

His hand rested on the back of her head, tangling in her hair as he guided her lower. “That’s it, baby. Take all of it. Nice and deep.”

She relaxed her jaw and opened her throat, knowing exactly how he liked his cock sucked. His grip tightened as she picked up pace, her saliva coating his skin and removing any friction.

“Fuck, Jocelyn…”

Her lips tightened around him, and she moaned, letting the sound vibrate against his flesh. There was something so erotic about doing this to a man as meticulous as Soren. Something intimate and trusting. He liked control, and she liked to steal it from him.

Her hand worked up and down the thick length of him as her mouth sealed tightly, pulling and wringing every drop of pleasure.

As he got closer, a guttural moan left his throat, and he shifted in his seat. “Joce.”

She didn’t let up. Instead, she tugged faster, sucking harder.

“Jocelyn.”

She knew he was close and she wasn’t stopping until he finished.

“Fuck—” The car veered, and she swayed.

He threw it in park and pushed her head down, thrusting his hips up to bury his cock in the back of her throat. His release shot out of him, his muscles jumping and flexing as his rhythm fell apart. He collapsed back into his seat with a long groan.

She licked up his length, lapping up every last trace.

Soren panted for breath, head tipped back, jaw lax, and eyes closed. “I think you killed me.”

Wiping her swollen lips on the back of her hand, she laughed.

The SUV was crooked, parked haphazardly on the shoulder of the road, so she turned on the hazards. “I guess you enjoyed that.”

He peeked through thick black lashes and smirked. “Come here.” Cupping a hand to the back of her neck, he pulled her to him for a deep kiss.

Some men would flinch at kissing a woman after she finished him so completely. But not Soren. Beneath his polished exterior hid an absolutely filthy deviant who relished the raw, unrefined parts of sex.

“You’re incredible.”

“So are you.” She smiled against his lips, and the kiss shifted to something deeper. If not for the steering wheel being in her way, she would have crawled fully onto his lap.

“We’re never going to make it home if we keep touching each other.”

“You’re right.” He scrubbed his face with his palms and took a rousing breath. “Get over there. And keep your hands to yourself.”

She smirked and settled back into her seat, refastening her belt. Soren eased back on the road and turned the radio on low.

Maybe it was the autumn air, or maybe it was the wine. Jocelyn was so relaxed, so content in that moment, she found it difficult to keep her eyes open.

Smiling, because her mouth seemed permanently stuck in that shape these days, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the gentle lull of the car moving around curves and weaving in and out of back roads.

She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, Soren was lifting her out of the Escalade and carrying her into his house. She only stirred slightly at the sound of his keys and her purse settling on the table in the foyer. He carried her up the curved staircase, his steps measured and steady until he lay her gently in his bed.

Sinking into the luxurious bedding, she smiled up at him as he brushed a knuckle over the arch of her cheekbone. Framed in shadows, he stared down at her as moonlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He gently cradled her leg, lowering the long zipper of her boot and sliding her foot free. He repeated the motion with the other and set the shoes aside. Next, he removed the clip from her hair and placed it on the nightstand. Pulling her up slowly, he stripped her out of her dress and loosened the clasp of her bra underneath.

He stripped her naked and laid her back. “My God, you’re fucking beautiful.” He said it as if he never got the chance to look at her, which in a way, he hadn’t.

Until recently, they’d always come together in an explosive meeting of impassioned lust, and she’d always rushed him out as soon as it was over. This was different. Everything was changing now, and she wondered why she ever tried to stop it.

“Tired?” he asked, stroking a lazy finger down her throat and over her collarbone.