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“An angel,” I groan. “You’re a filthy fucking angel.”
She whimpers in approval around my shaft, sending shock waves down my spine. Pleasure builds and builds, making stars blast behind my eyelids. Pushing forward on her knees, she pulls me deeper in her mouth, gagging when it goes too far. She can’t take more than the first few inches, but she’ll learn how to take it all. I’ll teach her everything she’ll ever need to know. We can teach each other.
When she pushes past her gag reflex and swallows me as far as she can, the rush of pleasure shoots me off.
I fill her mouth with spurt after spurt of cum, keeping her face buried in my groin when she tries to pull back on instinct. When some of it escapes her lips, dripping down her chin, I swipe it up with my thumb and push it inside along my cock, filling her too full. The twisted part of me wants to howl with satisfaction when I’ve stretched her mouth too much and more cum spills out. It wants to punish her for that, too, even if it was my fault.
“Drink it all,” I coo, slowly relaxing my grip on her head.
A flutter of her lashes, and then she’s making a show of pulling off my dick, sticking her tongue out and moving it side to side. “Gone.”
“Not completely.”
Gently, I swipe away the mess of cum on her chin and hold my hand between us to show her. Her cheeks deepen in colour as she stares at my wet fingers.
“Come up here, baby,” I tell her as I pull my pants up.
Surprise warms her gaze. It takes me a moment to realize what sparked that look. When I do, I don’t have the urge to take it back. It’s odd. Very unlike me.
She’s quick to move back onto my lap. A soft exhale falls between us when she settles there, her hands finding purchase on my chest, thumbs dragging over my T-shirt. Her tits are still bared, dress still resting up on her hips. She looks undone. Freshly fucked, but without the fucking.
“We’re going to be late for the show.” Her voice is soft, tired.
“Fashionably late.”
She huffs a laugh. “Right.”
A beastly urge blasts through me when I go to wipe my hand on my jeans. With her legs spread over my thighs, I give in to that urge and bring my hand to her centre and drag my cum-slicked fingers through her lips. I swirl the tip of my finger over her clit, and she collapses against me, whimpering into my throat.
“If you’re going to walk around bare, you can at least wear my cum on this pretty pussy. Can’t have you forgetting who it belongs to, can I?” I rasp.
“Noah,” she begs, trying to rub against my hand, seeking more.
I pull my hand away. It physically pains me to leave her unsatisfied. “No. Next time you want to be a brat, you’ll remember this.” Teeth pull at my throat, biting hard. I laugh loudly, smoothing a palm over her head. “You’ve always had fangs, Tinsley. I’m not afraid of them.”
Fixing the top of her dress, I tuck her chest behind a wall of silk and slide the strap back up her shoulder. I want to stay here with her forever. Want to pull her inside my body and keep her there. She cradles herself against me, her arousal forgotten, and I’m reminded of why I decided to keep her all this time.
Tinsley was custom-made for me.
29
TINSLEY
I’ve made a grave error.
Teasing Noah seemed like a cheeky idea, an easy way to rile him up. But I’m paying for that now. Have been for the past three hours. I grit my teeth and try to clear my mind of how badly I want to get back at him for this.
It doesn’t help that while still being way too damn turned on, I’m being forced to watch him perform again, hours after his concert has ended. As if that isn’t making me drip down my thighs every five fucking seconds. I’m sure the people around me think there’s something wrong with me from how often I’m rubbing my thighs together in hopes of easing the ache between them.
Nope. Just horny beyond goddamn belief.
I’m angry at how hot he is. At how easy it has become for him to hold my attention and have me panting after him like a dog in heat. It makes me even angrier that I can’t pinpoint what it is about him that makes me this way becauseeverythingseems to.
I was never into long hair, dark eyes, and tattoos. I never thought I wanted to fall for a tortured soul. Happy eyes and a charming smile are what I always gravitated toward. Oh, how naïve I was to believe that that was really what I yearned for. I had myself convinced I wanted that because there was only ever one man who didn’t fit into that mould. The one I knew I shouldn’t let myself have. If I could go back in time, I would smack myself silly.So much wasted time.
Sweet words and pretty smiles don’t make someone a good person. Their actions do. The things they’re willing to do and risk to ensure you’re happy. Noah might not be everyone’s idea of a good person, but to me, he’s never been anything less than the best, even if his actions aren’t typical. Nobody is perfect, and Noah just happens to be less so. Perfect is overrated, anyway.
My mouth tips up in a sly smile when I zone back into the party. Without my knowledge, Hunter managed to convince Noah to play a couple of songs at my victory party. While my stomach was swooping at that news, Noah was flashing me filthy looks on his way to the stage. He thought he’d gotten another one over on me, but he was dead wrong. This is a victory party in my favour, is it not?
