Page 69 of Arrogant Bastard

Stormy eyes blink up at me. “You look like a superhot centerfold.”

If I could summon my brain to work that way, I would probably say something clever. Instead: “Your centerfold,” I stress.

Her head bobs once. “Mine.” Her chin nudges my throbbing dick. Stars float past my vision.

“More,” I beg.

Fingers still hooked in my pants, she crouches between my legs, lowers her head, and pulls the broad crown of my cock into her mouth. My back bows as untrammeled pleasure rips through me. “Shit, baby, your mouth!”

She pulls at me until I pop from her tight suction. My balls tighten at that insanely filthy sound. “You want more?” she asks as her tongue flicks against my opening.

“What the fuck do you think?” My voice is a useless jumble of noise. But she doesn’t really need to hear me. The warm cavern of her mouth enfolds me once again, and I’m thrown back into the sweetest hell.

Eventually her hands leave my pants, to take hold of my straining balls. The perfect trifecta of sucking, pumping, and caressing drives me to the edge in pathetically little time. The hands balled into fists at my sides fly up to sink into her hair. My hips rise to meet her suction, and I hit the back of her throat with less than gentle finesse. She groans, and I curse because this, her taking me like a champ, draws me even deeper under her never-ending spell.

“Jesus, Faith. I’m going to drench that gorgeous mouth.”

Her gaze rises from my crotch to my eyes, and I glimpse the encouragement. She needs me just as much as I need her. In this moment, she is a slave to the promise of my release.

“You want it?” I ask.

She barely lifts her mouth from me to groan, “Yes,” before she is sucking me deep again. My fingers tighten a little unmercifully in her hair, and I push down. She trembles wildly against my hold.

“Stay,” I growl.

She lets go of my pants and lays her palms flat on either side of my thighs. The submissive pose, the power she hands me, breaks me completely, as she knew it would. I come hard, thick and endless, feel her gag, watch her swallow. She is everything. And I die just a little bit, knowing I may not be her everything.

I vaguely recall my hands falling from her hair. I am a useless mass of sensation when she climbs up my body to sit in my lap, to snuggle her face in my shoulder and hug me tight.

“I’m sorry that happened to you in Costa Rica.”

My eyes drift shut, and my hands crawl around her to hold her tight, but I don’t have the words to respond. Slowly I feel her tense. Her head pops up, and I can feel her reading my face. I don’t hide my turbulent emotions.

And when she returns her head to my shoulder, we both know that the tectonic plates of our dynamic have shifted. I experience the briefest moment of panic, which subsides into acceptance. We’re headed where we’re headed. And whatever the outcome, it is now unstoppable.

Chapter Nineteen

Killian

The next day threatens to become a carbon copy of the previous one. This time, dressed in khaki shorts that lovingly cradle her ass and a black T-shirt, she does that bunching and twisting thing with her hair while she stretches up on her toes. When she makes a return trip from the window, I look up from my tablet and crook my finger at her.

“You’re restless,” I say, setting my gadget down. “I have a suggestion.”

Her eyes darken a touch, and although she licks her lips, she shakes her head. “We can’t fuck all day every day, Killian.”

“I’d love to prove just how wrong you are, but that wasn’t what I had in mind.”

Her shoulders slump a little. “Okay…what?”

“You wanted to polish up on your marksmanship.”

She nods eagerly. “Yes.”

“Great. Mitch and Linc will be here in fifteen minutes.”

Her eyes light up. “We’re going out?”

“Yes, we are.” My gaze drops to her long, bare, beautiful legs. I imagine dozens of guys looking at them. “You going to change?”

---