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“I love when you do what I say,” I tell him, reaching down to pull my t-shirt off.
And Ilovethe way his eyes darken when he stares at my chest. My nipples prick under his gaze. When I take his hands and set them on my breasts, his jaw flexes.
“You have the best tits,” he murmurs, running his warm palms over them, playing with the tips.
“I know.”
His breath catches when my hand returns to his cock, stroking him slow and firm. Under my lips on his neck, his skin is hot, his pulse quick, and his breathing shallow. His lips find mine, kissing me with hunger. Between his hands all over me, in my hair and on my breasts, the way he kisses me like he’ll drown without me, and the low, desperate noises coming from him, I’m aching with arousal.
But I like playing with him too much. My hand speeds up.
“Slow down.”
“No.”
“Please,” he gasps, and his thighs tense, fingers pinching my nipples and sending a hot streak of electricity to my pussy.
I arch an eyebrow. “No.”
“Hazel.” His voice is rough, pleading. “I don’t want to come yet.”
My blood sings with power, and I wear a wicked smile. “So don’t come yet.”
His head falls back on a groan. I grin wider, working my hand around him faster.
“You’re so hot like this,” I whisper, taking in his flushed cheeks, hazy eyes, clenched teeth. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Rory.”
“You don’t evenknowhow beautiful you are,” he grits out. “The second I saw you last year, I lost interest in every other woman on the planet.”
My skin tingles with delight. I can’t help it, I love to hear that. “Good.”
A thought occurs to me. I’m not sure if I want to know the answer, but I ask it anyway.
“When was the last time you had sex?”
He’s breathing hard as our eyes meet, and something flashes in his expression. He hesitates, and I squeeze his cock, making his nostrils flare.
“When?”
“Last summer.” His throat works. He leans forward to press his lips to my neck, inhaling me.
“A year and a half ago?”
He nods, nipping the sensitive skin between my neck and shoulder, and a heavy emotion surges in me. Hope, I think, or maybe affection. Possession. The idea that Rory is mine and all mine is so sweet and necessary, I’m scared to even think about it.
Instead, I move back, settling on my knees between his legs, and lick a long line up his cock. His groan is tortured, shaky, and desperate, and I swirl my tongue over the swollen tip, humming at the way he tastes.
At his sides, his hands make tight fists.
“You’re doing so good,” I murmur before sinking my mouth around him, and his cock pulses against my tongue.
My free hand wraps around his balls, pulling another deep, hoarse noise from him. His fingers are in my hair, tensing with gentle weight, and I suck hard.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, Hazel. I can’t—” He breaks off on a broken moan when I take him to the back of my throat, hollowing out my cheeks.
The desperate edge to his voice? He’s close.
I’m cruel, so I pull off him for a moment. His eyes are feverish, hair a fucking mess, sweat beading on his forehead.
