Page 62 of Eat Slay Love

I glanced up again, and there was Dalvin, squeezing the wheel, his body stirring in the seat, his jaw tight, his nostrils flaring.

God, this is so hot.

Fabien fucking devoured me so badly that my panties were SOAKING wet.

My body quaked with pleasure.

Suddenly, Dalvin ran a hand over his face, dragging his fingers down like he was trying to pull himself back from the brink of insanity.

But the second his palm dropped, his gaze lifted, meeting mine in the mirror.

Heat.

Raw, unfiltered heat passed between us.

Dalvin knew I saw him.

And he knew I knew.

And that sent something electric through me—something intoxicating, something dangerously thrilling.

Being even more bold, I slipped my hand down between Fabien and me, and my fingertips grazed his hard, thick length straining against those designer slacks.

Oh. My. God.

Fabien let out a delirious groan, and I moaned too.

Heat flushed through my body as I traced the rigid outline of his cock, my palm pressing, stroking, feeling the sheer size of him.

Fabien was so damned hard, hot even through the expensive fabric, and the knowledge that I had done this to him—that my body, my moans, my scent had unraveled him to this point—made me dizzy with need.

My breath stuttered, my thighs clenched, and my mind spun with the only thought that mattered. . .

I need this cock inside me.

I wanted to feel that thick, pulsing cock stretch me open, bury itself deep into my pussy and claim me in the way his kisses already had.

Just the idea of his big cock had me clenching, a helpless, aching pulse building between my legs, spiraling into something close to desperation.

Fuck.

I was delirious with it, trembling, wanting, starving.

Fabien was still lost in me, his lips and tongue working me over with pure, mind-numbing expertise, but I could barely think, barely function, barely hold onto the remnants of my self-control.

And I didn’t want to anymore.

Not when I could have more.

Not when I could have all of him.

“Fabien. . .” I moved my hand from his cock, lifted it up, and curled my fingers under Fabien’s chin and I tilted his head up.

When he looked at me, his eyes were heavy-lidded.

His lips were wet, his breath uneven.

I shivered. “Forget the Met, Fabien.”

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