Page 77 of Unrivaled

“You like when I pay attention to your tits,” he whispers, and I can’t deny it because we both know it’s true.

But he’s distracting me, and we can’t have that.

I circle his wrists with my fingers and pull them away, placing them behind his head. “These stay here.”

He raises his eyebrows in response, but doesn’t protest.

With a nod, I return my attention to his vest, circling the top button with my finger a few times before undoing it. I undo the rest more quickly, then start on his shirt.

“If this were a movie, I’d just rip your shirt open and send the buttons flying,” I murmur as I work my way down.

He chuckles, the movement making it slightly more difficult to work the buttons. “If this were a movie, we’d be in bed already, and your bra would stay on while you’re on top. I think I like it better in real life.”

I glance up at his eyes. “You don’t want my bra to stay on?”

He raises one eyebrow. “Do you?”

No, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction of that answer. Not yet, anyway. I refocus on his shirt, pulling the tails out and spreading the fabric.

“If you let me move my hands, I can take it off,” he suggests.

Cocking my head to the side, I let out a thoughtful hum as though I’m considering his suggestion. Ha. I knew he wouldn’t be able to take his shirt off without moving his hands when I put them there. Having him half clothed like this is part of the experience. Like I wouldn’t have planned this already? I’d shake my head and tsk, but I don’t want to give away just how much I’ve thought this through.

“Nah,” I say lightly, rubbing my hands over his bare chest. “This works for me for now.”

He grunts, his eyes falling closed as I caress his torso, his abs popping as I move lower.

Since he called me a tease earlier, I might as well live up to the accusation. I slide my hands over his waistband and down his thighs, pulling his pants tight over his erection, but never actually touching it. I scratch my fingernails slowly up and down his thighs a few times until his muscles jump and twitch every time I get anywhere even close to his cock.

Smiling to myself, I meet his eyes as I finally slide all the way up and stroke him through his clothes.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters when I finally touch him. “You’re fucking killing me, Tiff.”

I give him my most wicked smile. “Good.”

Reaching up, I pop the button on his pants and slowly lower the zipper, rubbing my hand down his cock as I do it. He hisses, and I love having this kind of power over him. Especially after the way he took his time working me over. Slow starts are good for foreplay, but when half our foreplay took place before we even got here, I didn’t need that much of a warm up before I was ready to go. Even so, he seemed to be down there as much for his own enjoyment as mine. So I’m going to do the same thing.

The royal blue cotton of his boxer briefs pokes out from his open fly, and I rub him again, circling and tugging him slowly.

He shifts his hips and groans. “Please, Tiff,” he begs.

And oh, wow. I don’t think I’ve ever made a man beg before. I have to admit, I definitely see the appeal.

But he didn’t make me beg for long, so I won’t do that to him either.

Pulling his waistband out and down, I free him. He’s so big and hot and hard, my fingers not quite touching when I circle him even without the barrier of his clothes.

He hisses and groans and pushes himself into my hand, and when I look up at him, his eyes are fixed on where I’m touching him.

“Fuck, Tiff. Fuck fuck fuck.”

I’m going to take that as encouragement. Flipping my hair so it’s all over one shoulder, I lower my mouth until I’m nearly close enough to kiss his weeping slit.

“Jesus,” he breathes.

I meet his eyes, extend my tongue, and swirl it around.

You’d think I’d electrocuted him with the way he jumps at that first contact. I pull back and wait for him to settle before licking him again. This time he stiffens, but holds himself in check.

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