Page 35 of Fault Line

“God, you’re so hot when you’re desperate.”

“Oh, shut up, Beck.”

“Even hotter when you pretend not to like me.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Is it really pretending, though?”

With a smirk, I say, “You tell me.” Then, ever so slowly, my lips trail back down her body toward her bare cunt. I lick her there, pressing the flat of my tongue against her slit, building up the pressure until she’s thrashing, writhing into my mouth, moaning uncontrollably.

“That feels so fucking good,” she cries.

“So, you do like me, then?”

“Shh,” she begs. “Don’t stop.”

I keep licking her, my fingers working their way deeper inside of her. She tenses up as her orgasm builds, and I keep up the pace, eager to give her the release she craves. Her body writhes and bucks as she gets closer and closer, her moans growing louder and more urgent. I can feel her wetness slicking over my fingers, and it drives me fucking wild with desire.

When she finally comes, it’s like a dam bursting, and I drink in the sounds of her pleasure like a man dying of thirst. I keep my fingers moving, riding out the waves of her orgasm until she’s fully spent and limp in my arms.

Once she comes down from her high, I pull back and look up at her, savoring the sight of her flushed and sated body. Her eyes are closed, her breath heavy, but she looks more satisfied than I’ve ever seen her before.

It feels so fucking good to know that I’ve given her this, something she clearly hasn’t had in a long time—a real release.

13

KAIA

I don’t thinkI’ve experienced an orgasm like that in years, or maybe even ever.

My entire body feels sated and alive, and I can’t help the insatiable need to get my hands on him myself. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks dreaming of his fingers inside of me, and now that I’ve had a real taste, I need more.

As I look at him, fully dressed while I’m still naked, I feel exposed. And the need to see what’s hiding underneath his clothes is too much to resist. I lean forward, tugging desperately at his shirt.

He smirks, covering my hands. “I thought I was the one in control.”

“I want to see you,” I practically beg.

He steps back, waiting for me to comply. There’s a challenging look in his eyes, a daring spark that’s impossible to resist. God, I think I like this side of him—the one that takes charge. The thought of surrendering to his commands, of shutting off my brain like this, sets my entire body—my soul—on fire.

As I stand in front of him, my nipples pebbling in the cool air, he places a hand on my shoulder. Then, he gently shoves me down to my knees. I lick my lips and blink up at him through thick lashes.

In one swift move, he pulls his own shirt over his head, revealing the hard, tanned muscles of his upper body. He’s built, sculpted by the fucking gods, in all my favorite places. I bite my lower lip, captivated by the subtle clenching of his abs and the trail of dark hair running directly down the middle.

I’m ready to yank off the rest of his clothing now, but he seems to have other ideas.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he demands.

I roll my eyes but do as he says, waiting impatiently as he slowly works his pants and boxers off. And there it is. He’s thick, painfully hard, and my God, he looks to be the absolute perfect size for me. I ache to get my mouth around his cock, to feel him inside of me, but I can’t let myself go as far as the latter.

Not tonight. And not with him.

“Open your mouth,” he orders, cupping a hand around my jawline. I comply, sticking out my tongue. I want to use my hands to grip his hips, to regain some semblance of control, but he doesn’t allow that either.

“No hands,” he says, his fingers weaving into my hair, pulling me forward until my tongue touches his tip. Slowly, he guides himself inside.

“Is this okay?” he asks, softly caressing my head and rubbing his thumb along the back of my neck.

I nod my consent, and he makes a low groaning sound deep in his throat. Then he pulls back and pitches forward, slowly fucking himself inside my mouth.

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