Page 96 of Mexico Can Choke On It
“I amnotbeing sarcastic right now, B. This is genuinely fucking incredible. Sit down. Stop standing there like you’re chaperoning a middle school field trip.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because… I can’t resist you,” I admit, only realizing I’ve spoken it aloud when her eyes darken.
“Good. I don’t want you to control yourself. Show me the real you, Bryce.”
“Pip, we can’t. Gavin is my best friend.”
“Always with the mood-killing brother talk.”
My finger is a machine gun, drumming against my thigh—tap-tap-tap-tap-TAP!
“I should return to the group. If you need anything, press that button. Staff will respond immediately.”
I pivot toward the spiral staircase, away from temptation.
“Bryce, wait.”
Her quiet voice stops me cold. My hand grips the metal railing—hard.
She sighs. “I… I don’t know what’s happening between us. I’m just… Well, you have my permission.”
Keep moving! Escape. Before you do something irreversibly stupid. You don’t have Gavin’s permission for whatever this is.
“What I’m trying to say is… however you want me, wherever you want me—I’m completely and utterly yours. No strings, no games, no bullshit. Just yours.”
Christ, how could a man resist that invitation? I sure as hell can’t. I’m only human.
I turn, cross the space between us in two strides, and crash my mouth to hers. Our lips collide with the force of a small explosion. Desperate. Hungry. Completely unhinged. Her hands seize my hair as we move in a frantic rhythm, stealing each other’s breath. I kiss her like I’ll die if I stop.
My blood is on fire—my heart pounding so loud I can barely hear over it. My tongue sweeps against hers, claiming her, devouring her, and the only thought in my head is:more, more, more.
My mind goes primal, messy—everything in me is screaming:Bury yourself in her.
I force it back—that can’t happen.
Petra whimpers against my lips, and the sound heats up my cock like a lightning bolt.
A growl rips from my chest, raw and animal.What the fuck?Where did that sound come from?
Between kisses, I rasp against her lips, “I’m not… fucking you, Pip. I’m just… tasting you.”
Petra peels off my jacket she’s wearing and hurls it away, her voice husky and seductive. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Moneybags.”
Hands attack my shirt, ripping buttons open in a frenzied rush, sending them flying across the room like shrapnel.
My mouth charts a burning path down her throat, tasting her skin. I drag the neckline of her dress down, exposing the swell of her breasts. I groan, deep and ragged, as I suck her into my mouth, rolling my tongue over her perky nipple. Her other breast fits perfectly in my hand, my thumb circling and teasing.
“Oh God, B. Yes!”
Her nipple grows firm in my mouth. Every pull of my lips makes her arch against me. I switch sides, desperate to feel the other swell against my tongue. I graze my teeth over the taut bud, rough enough to make her cry out.
“More,” she gasps. “Please, more.”
Something savage unfurls in my gut—a version of myself that’s been caged behind boardroom manners and inherited expectations.
