Page 31 of The Boyfriend Effect (Frisky Business 1)
With tentative flicks of her hot tongue, she teases me at first. I bury my fists into the blankets as she opens wider and works to fit the head of my cock into her perfect mouth.
“Fuck. Yeah, that’s it.” I lift my hips from the mattress, giving her more.
Maren makes a breathless sound, her tongue teasing as she takes a much-needed gulp of oxygen. She cups my balls in one hand and strokes my aching shaft with the other. Her eyes sink closed as she takes me in her mouth again.
“Dove . . .” I rasp out the word, already breathless.
I’m going to hell. That much is obvious. Because Maren is treating me to a hot, wet blow job, and it’s the closest I’ve ever been to heaven.
I touch her hair, placing my thumb on the side of her throat to feel her accepting me, and Maren lets out a helpless little whimper. I can’t help but talk dirty to her, tell her how sexy she looks with her mouth full of my cock, how good she is at this. And I savor each of her reactions. The way she murmurs against me and squeezes her thighs together . . . it’s hot as hell.
Before I come, I warn her, but Maren doesn’t stop, forcing even more of me into her throat just as I explode.
“Hell, sweetheart.” I gasp as she sits back on her heels, looking pleased. Who would have known that that was one of Maren’s many talents? Not this guy.
Pulling her up onto the bed and against my chest afterward is the most natural thing in the world. She lets out a small giggle and lays her head on my shoulder. Lying here with her, cuddled together in a warm, flushed heap, feels almost as good as the intimacy we just shared. This is all so unexpected, but at the same time, it feels right.
As I hold her close and gently run my knuckles over the smooth skin of her spine, I try to convince myself that maybe my betrayal of Wolfie’s trust doesn’t count across state lines.
It almost works.We cuddle until I fall asleep. At some point, Maren must have slipped out of bed. The next morning, I wake alone and full of guilt.
What the fuck happened last night? Did I let things go too far? I’ve almost convinced myself that it was all just a wet dream, until I come downstairs for breakfast and find Maren and Wolfie sitting at the table, the smell of coffee hanging heavy in the air.
Wolfie is glued to his phone, his hair sticking out at odd angles, his face screwed up in a scowl. We all know better than to talk to him before his third cup. Maren brings her mug to her lips and looks at me over the thin wisp of steam.
“Morning, Hayes. Sleep well?” Her voice is like velvet, her lids heavy as she sips her coffee without taking her gaze from mine.
All right. Definitely not a dream.
It’s a good thing Wolfie is dead to the world right now, because it doesn’t take a psychic to interpret the vibes between us.
“Uh . . . yeah,” I manage to say before I tear my gaze away from her and pour myself some coffee.
I’m fucked. We’re fucked. I’m so going to hell. And it doesn’t help that just being in the same room as Maren is turning me on.
One by one, the rest of the crew join us in the kitchen.
Connor bounds down the stairs, slapping Wolfie on the shoulder with a loud, “Good morning!” Wolfie growls in response. Penelope and Scarlett arrive together and sit by Maren at the table, and Caleb starts cracking eggs into a bowl.
Finally, Holly saunters down the stairs, the only one of us already dressed in a swimsuit and a lacy cover-up that looks more like lingerie than sleepwear. After last night, I’m about ready to slaughter Wolfie for inviting her.
“Good morning, everyone,” she says in a singsong voice, flouncing around the kitchen island. “Sleep well? I certainly did. Maren, I hope I didn’t disturb you last night. I’ve been known to toss and turn and make a lot of noise in the night.” She curls a lock of her dark hair around her finger and bats her lashes apologetically Maren’s way.
With every second I spend around this woman, it’s getting harder and harder to believe I was ever attracted to her.
Maren glances at me, and her eyes tell me everything I need to know. She’s thinking of last night. Of how Holly’s little show drove us into the same room. Of what happened after . . . how I tasted her, made her moan and twitch with my tongue, how she took every last drop of me down her throat.
Fuck. I’ve got to get a hold of myself.
