Page 166 of Cross the Line
Fine—two can play. Resting my hand over his, I hitch it all the way to my drenched center and drag our joint fingertips through my wet folds. While he holds his there, I lift mine, and tear off a piece of the cotton-candy cloud decorating my cocktail.
His eyes follow the blue fuzz to his lips. When he opens his mouth to take it from me, I push my fingers inside, making sure he gets a taste ofhow it’s goingfor me.
“How’sthat, Hotshot?”
He sucks long and hard, pulling all my arousal off my skin with a grin glinting in his eyes.
“The best fucking thing I’ve put in my mouth all damn night,” is all he says, pressing on the curve of the toy so it sinks deeper.
He’s fucking me under the table with our friends talking and smiling and?—
“I can’t be in a relationship, Fin,” Christina says, oblivious to how close I am to coming.
I can’t even tell her how ridiculous she’s being. Matheo cares about h-he-her…
Fuck!
I grip the bench on either side of me, biting my tongue so I don’t call out as the heat in my bloodstream roars.
Jesus, please.
I’m almost there. So close. So ready.
Then, JJ rips his hand away. I blanch at the loss. The fire turns to ice; my near release morphs to more tension, more need.
He twists his slick fingers in the candy floss and makes a show of eating it with a long suck as he grins at Eli.
I can’t take much more of this.
I won’t survive it.
But at least I’m not the only one dying.
Eli looks as pent-up as I am. Licking his lips with his nostrils flared like he’s desperate for the taste of me that JJ just had.
And if watching him ache didn’t make the anticipation coiled around me so much sweeter, I might feel sorry for him.
Seeing him so close to unraveling is almost taking the edge off my suffering.
So I don’t.
Instead, I sit back into the bench and relish in the knowledge that he is as desperate as I am.
***
Christina clings to me for dear life as we leave the bar. She’s heading towards tipsy, but making enough sense that if she has enough water, she’ll make it to midnight.
It’s only ten-thirty. The streets are manic, and every so often, the guys get recognized and stopped. They’re impossible to miss—their past-six-foot brawn in all white makes incognito a myth.
Not a single one is shitty about being asked for photos, though. Even Eli poses a couple of times.
“Oi, Bonita,” Matheo croons at Christina as he continues striding backward. “Want me to keep you warm?”
I can sense her fighting the urge to let him sweep her away. Her arm almost releases mine, then tightens. “It’s not cold, Mattie.”
“I mean… It’s a little bit crisp,” I say, trying to help him out.
Matheo has a lot of bravado, but his friendship with Jayden is honest and loyal. They treat each other like brothers, and given how careful Jayden is about who he lets in, I know Matheo can’t be a bad guy. Besides, he’s looking at Christina like a sad puppy searching for his lost bone—if a puppy were six-three with dark curls and piercing blue eyes broadcasting emotion in 8K UHD.
