Page 153 of The Rookie

Her hands work me over as she licks me at once, and, God, I’m about to lose it. My palm braces against the doorframe, the other tangling in her hair as she leans forward, her lips brushing over me.

The touch of her tongue is tentative, soft, and sweet. But even that tiny stroke sends a shockwave down my spine.

Fuck.

My head tips back, a low groan escaping my throat as her lips part and take me deeper. The wet heat of her mouth, the slide of her tongue—it’s enough to wreck me completely.

She pulls back slightly, her breath brushing against me, and she mutters, “I honestly don’t remember how I did this…”

My eyes snap down to her, her hand stroking me slowly, her gaze uncertain but so goddamn sexy.

“It’ll fit,” I rasp, my voice rough with need.

Her lips twitch into a small, teasing smile. “No, it’s just… been a while since I’ve done this. Since Mexico, to be exact.”

Fuck me.

Her words hit me like a sledgehammer, and I have to fight the urge to haul her up and take her right there.

Instead, I force myself to grin, brushing my thumb over her bottom lip. “Open your mouth and hope for the best.”

Her gaze locks onto mine, heat simmering in those deep, hazel eyes, and she does as I ask, her lips parting slightly.

“Good girl,” I groan. “I’ll help you.”

And then I guide her, slow and steady, her mouth closing around me.

The way she looks up at me, her lips stretched over my length, her hands braced against my thighs—it’s almost too much.

“Mine,” I growl, my fingers tightening in her hair. “Fuck, you’re mine now, Avery.”

Her tongue swirls, her head tilting as she takes me deeper, and the wet, obscene sounds of her working me fill the air.

But it’s not enough.

No matter how good this is—how fucking incredible she is—I need more.

I grip her arms gently, tugging her to her feet, and she blinks up at me, her lips swollen and glistening, her cheeks flushed that perfect shade of pink.

Her chest is heaving, her breath uneven as I slide my hands to her waist, my fingers finding the tie of her dress.

“Griffin,” she whispers, her voice soft and unsure.

I lean down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her mouth, tasting her, savoring her. “You’re everything,” I murmur against her lips, my hands working the fabric loose.

The dress falls away, pooling at her feet, and I take a step back, my gaze sweeping over her.

Every dream I’ve ever had, every fantasy I’ve tried to bury—standing here, trembling under my touch, driving me out of my damn mind.

I pick her up like she weighs nothing, and, holding her by the hips and ass, press her against the wall.

As I press into her, slow and deliberate, watching her lips part and her head fall back, I murmur, "How was Spain?"

Her breath catches, and she lets out a shaky laugh. "It was… ah…good? Really? Right now?”

I grin against her skin, trailing kisses down her neck. "I’m serious. Was it everything you dreamed it would be?"

Her fingers dig into my shoulders as I slide deeper, her body tightening around me.

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