Page 81 of One Last Encore

Her fingers ghosted down his arms, feather-light, tracing the taut cords of muscle beneath his skin. She shifted again, the pressure against his cock brutal and glorious. He hissed through his teeth, hips jerking instinctively beneath her.

A slow, sinful smile curled on her lips. She leaned down, brushing her mouth over his, not a kiss–just a whisper of contact, cruel and teasing.

"You’re so gorgeous when you’re desperate," she murmured against his mouth, her voice all honeyed sin.

A savage groan rumbled low in his throat, vibrating through his chest. She answered it with a slow, filthy grind. Her nails raked down his chest, snagging on the fabric of his shirt, making him ache for the feeling of her skin against his.

He needed her. Naked. Spread out beneath him, screaming his name. But she wasn’t done tormenting him yet. She smiled as her fingers skimmed the waistband of his jeans, teasing him mercilessly.

"What do you want me to do to you?" she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.

"Anything," he growled. "Everything. Just–fuck, Ingrid."

She rewarded him with a soft, almost innocent kiss just below his ear–a lie, because there was nothing innocent about the way she owned him right now.

Then she slid off him, kneeling between his thighs, her hands braced against his knees as she pushed them apart. Beck’s breath sawed from his lungs, his body so tense he felt like he might fucking snap.

"What are you doing?" he managed, voice raw, scraping from his throat like he hadn't spoken in days.

Ingrid didn’t answer; she just smiled. The kind of smile that promised ruin and would make him beg for it.

She paused at the button of his jeans, her nails scraping lightly over the denim. She toyed with it, teasing, taking her sweet time, letting the anticipation eat him alive.

"Giving your hands a break from all those repetitive movements lately," she softly as she batted her lashes at him, looking so innocent it hurt. "Drumming."

His cock throbbed, straining against the rough fabric, desperate for her touch. She let her gaze drop deliberately to the bulge between his legs, her mouth curving into a wicked little smile that made his blood roar in his ears.

"Finger-fucking me in the studio while you ate my pussy," she whispered, soft and breathy, her voice so sweet it was obscene. His hands fisted at his sides, every muscle in his body locked tight.

Was she trying to kill him? Because it was working. He hadn't expected this side of her, the dirty mouth, the sheer, lethal confidence, and it turned him inside out. He fucking loved it.

"You don’t think I knew?" she murmured, nails dragging slowly across the button again. "How many times did you jerk off after that? Huh? Thinking about the way I sounded? Tasted?"

"Too many," he rasped, hips jerking up just as she finally popped the button and eased the zipper down. The sound of it was a metallic scream in the thick silence.

Before he could open his mouth to beg because he would have, pride be damned, she freed him from his jeans, his cock springing free.

She wrapped her fingers around him, and he gasped, his head slamming back against the couch. His thighs trembled under her touch, every muscle straining toward her, desperate for more.

"Tell me," she coaxed, her hand moving in slow, maddening strokes. "Tell me what you thought about."

"I–" Beck swallowed hard, trying to pull a breath into his burning lungs. His mind was a fucking wasteland, wiped clean except for her. "I imagined your mouth," he ground out, every word a struggle. "Your lips wrapped around my cock."

She blinked up at him, her lashes fluttering, a slow, secret smile spreading across her face like she was proud she could make him this desperate.

"Like this?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

And then, so tentative, so sweet, she leaned in, pressed the softest kiss against the swollen head of his cock. He almost came on the spot.

Then her tongue darted out, swirling around the tip like she was tasting him, exploring, figuring out what would make him break.

He choked on a groan, his hands twitching against the couch, every cell in his body screaming to grab her, fuck her mouth, lose himself in her completely. He held back. Barely.

Then she wrapped her lips around him and sucked. Deep. Hot. Wet. Fuck.

His hips bucked up, instincts shredding his restraint. She took him slow, her tongue teasing as she worked the sensitive underside, dragging a full-body shudder out of him.

She hollowed her cheeks, sucking harder, and his vision blurred at the edges. Her hand worked in tandem with her mouth, stroking the thick, throbbing base of his cock, dragging him higher with every devastating pull.

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