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“Open.” His voice is pure command.

I part my lips, letting him guide my head forward.

There’s only this moment, only him.

Only us.

Only the salty taste of pre-cum coating the tip of his cock.

THIRTY-NINE

NAOMI

“Fuck.” Brandon’s fingers twist harder into my hair. “Just like that.”

The pain from his grip shoots straight between my legs as I work my tongue along him, savoring the way his abs ripple.

His voice is strained, thick with heat and impatience. “Look at me.”

My eyes snap to his, the blue nearly devoured by his blown pupils, leaving only a thin ring—sharp, hungry, inescapable.

He’s got me. Fully, completely.

“Good girl.” His thumb traces where my lips stretch around him. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

The praise burns through me, but I hold his stare. I can’t look away, won’t look away, his eyes holding me captive as surely as his hand in my hair.

His palm cups my jaw, thumb pressing into the corner of my mouth. “Relax your throat.”

I surrender to his guidance, letting him push deeper until tears sting my eyes. The stretch burns just right, walking that perfect line between pleasure and pain.

He pulls back. “You know all the colors? Tell me.”

“Green,” I drink in the air, already missing the weight of him on my tongue. “Yellow, red.”

“What are you now?”

“Green.”

That wicked smirk spreads across his face. “That’s my girl.”

My thighs press together at his words, seeking friction. Brandon notices, he always notices, and his grip tightens.

“Did I say you could do that?”

I stop moving.

“Words.”

“No, Sir.”

His eyes flash. “Bend over.”

I freeze for half a second, heat rushing through me, and then, slowly, I do as I’m told. The silk sheets whisper against my skin as I drape myself over the bed’s edge, listening with anticipation to his footsteps closing in.

“Wider.” His fingers skim up my spine.

I spread my legs, exposed and aching, the cool air hitting where I’m slick with want.

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