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It was better than I’d imagined, the way she sounded when she was turned on, how she’d moan for me.

Fuckin’ hell.

She looked up at me, mischief twinkling in her eyes as she gripped my length. “Monroe, will you pretty please fuck my mouth?”

She trailed a red-nailed finger up and down my length, and my eyes fell closed, need racing through me

Her mouth curved into a wicked smile. “Is that a yes?”

She stroked me, and pleasure tightened in my groin. My mind spun from her touch. “Yes, for fuck’s sake, put me in that bratty mouth of yours.”

THIRTY-FIVE

GRACIELLA

“MAKE IT NO CONDOMS! I’M A WHORE, LEAVE ME ALONE.”—@READWITH.ARI

“Holy fuck.” Monroe’s head fell back, eyes closed. “This is better than my dreams.”

God, same.

I’d lied when we were in that closet. A man on his knees wasn’t my favorite sight. Monroe, completely at my mercy while I sucked his cock, was my favorite.

I was fucking dripping and achy, but god did I love taking him to the back of my throat. He was heavy and thick on my tongue. Monroe tugged on my hair with his long fingers, leaning back to get a full view of himself in my mouth.

“That’s fucking perfect, baby. You’re fucking perfect.”

His words dragged a moan from me, and Monroe growled. He rocked his hips forward, fucking his cock in my mouth.

I was addicted. Totally and wholly addicted to him. To his control.

To the way he got lost in the pleasure I was giving him.

I hollowed my cheeks, fondling his balls with the hand not wrapped around his base.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispered, voice strained. “Just like that. This mouth is the only fucking mouth I want. No one else.” He tipped my head up, locking eyes as I swirled my tongue around his tip before taking him back down my throat. “You’re mine, Graciella.”

I moaned around his cock at the praise, at the possession, letting myself believe it, to not overthink it, if only for this moment. I relaxed my throat, taking him deeper. Fuck, I loved him fucking my mouth like this.

“That’s it, I can’t take it,” he said, hauling me up. His cock slipped from my mouth with a wet pop.

My lips felt swollen, tingling from the stretch of him. I could still taste a salty bead of precum on my tongue.

God, I was soaked, my thighs slick and aching, but the way his eyes burned into mine, dark and possessive, made me forget everything but this. Us.

“Fuck, Graciella,” he growled, voice rough like gravel, as he spun me around and bent me over the marble countertop. The chill seeped through my skin, a stark contrast to the heat pulsing between my legs.

His hands were everywhere. Rough palms sliding up my thighs, ripping down my spandex shorts. “Look at you, dripping for me. This pussy is mine, isn’t it? Say it.”

I braced my hands on the edge of the counter, my heart hammering. He was going to ruin me, and I wanted every second of it.

“Yours,” I cried out.

He slapped my ass, a delicious sting that shot straight to my core.

“Louder, baby. Whose pussy is this?” Another smack, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

“Yours, Monroe! Fuck, it’s yours!” I arched back toward him, desperate and wanton.