Page 80 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

“Still predictable.”

She crosses one leg over the other, smooth and deliberate. “Undo the top three buttons of your shirt.”

I do. Slowly.

Her eyes drop, just for a second.

“My turn.” I take a step closer. “Lift your dress and trace your pussy with your finger.”

She doesn’t hesitate. Her fingertip finds her lace panties and traces the outline of her folds, a light stroke that burns hotter than it should.

Now it's her turn.

Her lips curl into a smirk. “Dare me to do something you can’t handle.”

My pulse spikes. “Kiss me. But not on the mouth.”

She doesn’t hesitate. Her lips brush the underside of my jaw, slow, deliberate, a whisper of heat that lights every nerve on fire.

Her lips don’t stop at my jaw.

She trails lower, down my neck, across my chest, kissing, licking, tasting.

I groan, my head falling back as her mouth finds the center of my abdomen and pauses just above my waistband.

“You dared me.” Her fingers slide under the band of my briefs. “No backing out now.”

“I’m not stopping you,” I rasp.

She drops to her knees in front of me, all glossy eyes and wicked smirks, and when her mouth closes over the head of my cock, I forget my own name.

Her lips are hot and wet, tongue teasing me with slow, deliberate swirls that make my thighs tighten and my hands clench at my sides.

I can’t look away, can’t do anything but stand there and feel.

She moans low in her throat, and the vibration rips through me like lightning.

I reach down and brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “Fuck, Soph…”

She takes me deeper, throat flexing, and my knees nearly buckle.

She’s in control, completely, and she knows it.

She eases back with a pop of suction and a filthy smile. “Ready to quit?”

“Hell no,” I grit, grabbing her by the waist and hauling her to her feet.

I crash my mouth to hers, tasting myself on her tongue, and it only makes me harder.

She gasps into the kiss, her fingers tangling in my shirt, tugging until buttons scatter to the floor.

I lift her in one smooth motion, wrapping her legs around my waist and carrying her to the kitchen counter.

Her back hits the granite with a soft thud, and I shove her panties aside, fingers slipping through slick heat that makes my brain short-circuit.

“God, you’re soaked.”

“You did that,” she pants. “Do something about it.”

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