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His hips pull back, then he starts a steady, shallow thrust in and out as I hold still for him, wanting him to take his pleasure from me. Every few thrusts, he pushes in farther and hits the back of my throat, then pauses to let me swallow against him. Each time I do, he twitches, his breath hitching.

“I need you to suck, sweetheart,” he says, his fingers still framing my face so he can feel himself pumping in and out.

Flattening my tongue beneath his length, I hollow my cheeks and suck him as he shortens his thrusts, making them shallower.

His gaze flicks between watching my mouth and my eyes. Even when he’s edging closer to spilling into my mouth, he still looks so neatly put together, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his collar pressed and unbuttoned only to show a sliver of his neck. Whilst I’m on my knees, in only a towel after he bathed and washed me. But it’s his reverent look as he watches me, the lust and love mingling in his features that has my hands gripping his thighs. A low moan vibrates through my throat. I’m desperate to see him tip over the edge for me.

“Yes, Rosy. Look at you, so beautiful wrapped around me,” he pants, his thrusts still shallow but quickening.

I keep sucking and moaning around his length. His fingers twitch against my cheeks, his thighs tense tighter under my palms, and he inhales sharply. Warmth fills my mouth. I swallow greedily, unable to take my eyes off him as his lashes flutter against his cheeks and his eyes fall closed.

He’s wrong. He’s the beautiful one.

FIFTY-THREE

NOAH

Max grins, clapping his hands together as he wiggles in his seat. “Sixteen points, yes, please.”

We all lean in to read the letters he put down since previous experience has shown that Max doesn’t always get the words correct.

And in this case, he hasn’t.

“Awill isn’t a word,” I inform him.

He taps his pointer finger loudly on the dining table. “So is. Where there’s awill, there’s a way.” He nods, palming the table with a smack.

Rosy snorts, failing to muffle the giggles behind her hand. It’s infectious, and I can’t help but smile with her.

“You’re supposed to be on my side and agree with me.” Max pouts, the corners of his mouth tipping down.

Nate huffs and tucks Rosy closer to him. “She’s on my team, not yours.”

“Which is still unfair, if you ask me,” Max sulks, still managing to keep up the pout.

Something he’s been whining about since we started. However, with five of us playing a four-player game, we had to get a little creative, and Nate won the chance to be with Rosy. Although I’m not sure Rock, Paper, Scissors was a truly fair way to decide.

“I didn’t,” Nate quips, narrowing his eyes. “Not a word, so remove it.”

“How is it not? There’s a phrase with it that everyone knows. You can’t have a fake word in a phrase like that,” he argues, eyebrows raising in challenge.

“Because it’s a will not awill,” I reveal, trying not to join Bry’s and Rosy’s laughter.

Max silently mouths the phrase to himself. “For fuck’s sake. I hate this,” he mutters, and removes the ‘a’ and ‘w’ he’d placed down. “It would be much more fun if we could just make up words.”

Except Rosy mentioned it was one of her favourite games, so I know he’ll keep playing. It happens to be one of mine, too.

“As Max needs time to come up with a new word, I’m just going to pop the garlic baguette into the oven,” Bry says, rising from his chair.

“It’s because I’m hungry. I need fuel to be able to think of words,” Max grumbles. He drops his elbow on the table, balancing his chin on his palm as he stares at his letters.

“You know, you can just keep the ‘W’ in,” she tells him, and taps the board with her pointer finger. “Just keep ‘will’ if you’re unsure what else to place down.”

Max sits up straighter, plucks up the letter and puts it back down with renewed energy. “Knew you were on my team, cupcake.”

Nate covers Rosy’s mouth with his hand. “No more helping.”

Her eyes twinkle, and whatever she does has him pulling his hand away a moment later.