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I toyed with him, enjoying the way the muscles of his thighs, of his stomach, all tensed with want. Even so, he didn’t move. He let me have him, let me please him and play.
Of course, the disgruntled noise he made when I pressed my lips to his hip, to a rose tattooed there, made me grin. It felt like playing a game with a mountain lion I was for sure going to lose.
Though, I had a feeling that even losing to Grant would be winning for me…
I traced the petals of the rose, nipping at the stem which rested on his groin, so close to his cock I could only imagine the look his tattoo artist must have gotten.
“You’re killing me, Ava,” he groaned.
“You’re impatient,” I countered before blowing cold air over his hard length. “Good things come to those who wait.”
“‘Don’t play with fire’ is an idiom you should take to heart more,” he threatened.
I snorted—not the sexiest sound, but whatever. “Puhlease.” I drew out the word with as much mockery as I could. “What are you going to do about it?”
I was pushing him. I knew it. He knew it. If the windows were open, people close by might just know it.
That was fine by me. As it turned out, I was a bit of an exhibitionist when it came to my men. It was like after I’d gotten a taste of what they did, of how it felt to have them, I didn’t really care if Suzy-Prude down the way knew all about it.
He tightened his grip in my hair, forcing my eyes up to his. The green in them seemed darker than usual, almost molten. “What game are you playing?”
“No idea what you mean.” I reached my tongue out as far as I could, just barely able to dart the tip against the head of his cock. Why the hell did that do it for me? Why did it make the want inside me grow more, consume me?
Because Grant had been playful, and he’d teased me, and he’d given me pleasure, but it hadalwaysbeen with hesitation. It had been a game, a team sport with Hunter. He’d never really given in to what he wanted from me, had never let it be just us, let it be real.
Push a man far enough, and their truth always comes out.
He narrowed his eyes, looking downright terrifying from that angle. I stared at his tattooed body, his toned stomach, the ink over his chest, the way his bicep moved as he gripped my hair. “I knew when I met you on your front porch, you’d be trouble,” he admitted.
“But you stuck around.”
That made his lip curl up and into a smirk, one that was not in the least bit reassuring. “Yeah, I did.”
“So it must not bother you that much.”
“Believe it or not, I like that you’re trouble. I like that you’re tough and stubborn and that I always know where I stand with you.”
That hit me, forced me to focus in on his eyes. He’d spent his life having to read people, having to guess their true intentions, never sure he could trust what they said.
“I like that if you’re mad enough to stab me, you’ll damn well bury the knife in my chest and not my back.” His words came out soft, and even though the statement was pretty bleak, I got the sentiment.
It wasn’t that he believed I’d never turn on him, that I’d never go against him, but he trusted that if I did, I’d let him know I was coming for him. It was a weird declaration, but with him, it made sense. He hadn’t lived a life where people had each other’s backs for good, so even thinking I just wouldn’t betray him was enough.
He let out a soft laugh, some of the fierceness of his expression fading away. “Besides, let’s be real—I think I’d let you sink that knife in anyway.”
Thatdidn’t sit right. I opened my mouth, ready to tell him that I wouldn’t do that and he was an idiot for saying he’d allow it. He shouldn’t allow anyone to stab him, including me!
However, he took advantage of the moment, using my hair and pressing the head of his cock past my open lips, into the heat of my mouth, then gave me a hell of a pleased smirk.
It seemed like an empty win—I was planning to suck his cock anyway—but any desire to brat disappeared at the taste of him, at the way his dick felt against my eager tongue.
He could have his win if I got this. It sounded like a pretty good consolation prize.
I lavished attention to the head of his cock, not caring about taking him deep. I slid my lips forward and back, my hand wrapped around his shaft and my tongue stroking the sensitive area underneath.
The world drifted away, blocked out when I closed my eyes and focused only on him, on his length, on his fingers in my hair. I sucked hard, tilting my head to tease more of him, pulling back to slide my tongue against the slit at the top. Pre-cum escaped, like a promise of what was to come.
“Fuck,” he whispered, voice rough and strained. “Every time I think I can’t want you more, you go and prove me wrong.”
