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I suck him harder, working the base of his cock with my hand, making sure no part of his erection is untouched by me.
My name is falling from his lips in pleasured yet tortured groans. The repetitive sounds are crawling over my skin, warming me, almost fueling my movements.
Because right now it isn’t about him.
This is about me.
This is about me giving him something but not really letting him take anything from it.
Because I need him to lose control. I need him to find that blissful, fucking blinding oblivion. I need him to lose himself, forget his own name.
I need him to surrender to me.
“Liv. Shit, Liv!” He swells in my mouth and tries to pull me away.
I dig my nails into his hip, suck hard, and make my message clear. It’s as if a switch flips in his mind and his hips take a pace and rhythm of their own.
He fucks my mouth hard. My teeth graze his skin. He groans my name. My eyes burn.
He pushes my head forward at the exact moment that his hot, salty come spurts into my mouth. I seal my lips around him and swallow it, wincing at the vile taste. Shit.
When he stills, I release his cock and kiss his thigh. His hip. His lower stomach.
He runs his fingers through my hair and pulls me up, flattening me against his body. His hands run across my back and down to my ass. His fingers brush my pussy, and I shake my head.
“No,” I whisper.
He stills for the second time in as many minutes. “No?”
“No,” I repeat, my voice still quiet.
His chest rises forcefully with his deep breath. It lowers slowly after a moment, and I expect him to push it. I expect him to try and tease me into letting him do what he wants, but he doesn’t.
“Okay,” he replies just as quietly and slides his shoes off with his feet. He steps out of his pants and underwear. “Bedtime.” He kisses the spot beneath my ear and grabs my thighs, lifting me up.
I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. I bury my face against him, a slither of control sneaking through my veins.
I feel guilty—for forcing him to my will then denying him his.
But I also feel stronger.
And very, very fucked up.
Tyler literally drops us onto the bed and I shriek.
“Fuck! That was my ear, you bitch!” He jolts away, clapping his hand over his ear.
I laugh. “Oops.”
He stares at me for a moment like he can’t decide if he’s done telling me off or if he’s going to laugh at me. He does neither. In the end, he grins, lies next to me, and yanks me to him.
I rest my head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek. “You didn’t take your socks off.”
“You didn’t take your knickers off. I say it’s fair.” He kisses my forehead and sighs deeply.
Okay. I’m not going to reply. I’m going to lie here, fall asleep, and pretend I didn’t just give him a blow job for entirely selfish reasons.
“Tyler Stone, one of these days, I’m going to bloody well kill your useless arse!”
