Page 53 of Jagger's Remorse
"I'm playing the only game that matters."
"Which is?"
"Surviving."
His hand slides up my thigh. "This doesn't feel like survival."
"Doesn't it?"
I rock against his touch. "Every time you fuck me, you get a little more attached. Every orgasm is another chain. Soon you'll be so tangled up in wanting me, you won't even feel the noose tightening."
He laughs, loud and outrageous. "You think you're that good?"
"IknowI am."
"Prove it."
I laugh. "Are you challenging me to seduce you? While you're already hard? That's like challenging a fish to swim."
"You talk too much."
"You think too much."
I grab his cut, use it to pull him down to my level. "Turn off that guilty Catholic brain for five minutes. Stop analyzing. Stop planning. Just shut up and let me ruin you properly."
"Scarlett—"
I bite his lip hard enough to draw blood. "I said shut up."
Then I drop to my knees.
His breath catches. "What are you?—"
"Teaching you a lesson about who's really in control."
I work his belt open, his zipper down.
Free him to the morning air.
He's already leaking, body betraying what his mind won't admit.
"Watch," I order. "Watch me own you."
I take him deep, no warning, no buildup.
His hands fly to my hair but don't push or pull.
I take my time working him with my mouth, using every trick Diego taught me but making them mine.
My tongue traces the vein on the underside, feeling his pulse race against it.
When I hollow my cheeks and take him deeper, his hips buck involuntarily.
"Fuck," he groans, his control starting to crack. "Your mouth... Christ, Scarlett."
I pull back just enough to speak, my hand replacing my mouth. "You've thought about this, haven't you? Every time you watched me through your scope. Every night you jerked off to my memory."
"Yes," he grits out, hands fisting in my hair.
