Page 86 of The Last Call Home
“Fuck, Lilah,” he breathes, hand sliding into my hair, guiding but not forcing.“You look so pretty like this.”
I take more of him in, inch by inch, my hand stroking what I can’t reach.My tongue moves beneath the shaft, teasing the underside, and his abs flex under my palm.
He’s barely holding on.
I hollow my cheeks and take him deeper, swallowing around him as my eyes lift to his.
Cassian’s jaw clenches.His hand tightens in my hair, his fingers curling like he’s trying to ground himself.“God, you’re gonna wreck me,” he rasps, voice thick and dark.“I’d love to watch you suck off our Mal while I fuck him.Perhaps soon I’ll have you do it—we’ll find a place, a time.You on your knees, both of us watching you take him in.”
My body pulses at the idea—at the way his voice drips with possession and promise.I hum around him, slow and sinful, like I’m already imagining it too.Then I pull back with a soft pop, licking my lips as my fingers trail along his cock, stroking him wet and slow.My tongue follows, tracing the thick vein down his shaft, kissing the curve at the base.
Cassian groans, his head falling back for a second before snapping down again to watch me.
I shift lower, licking over the base of him before drawing one of his balls into my mouth.Gently, slowly.I suck, rolling my tongue around him while my hand strokes his cock.Then I do the same to the other, teasing, savoring, addicted to the way he hisses my name through his teeth.
“Fuck, Lilah ...”His voice breaks, raw.“That mouth.You’re gonna kill me.”
I look up at him, smug and aching, licking a long stripe back up the length of his cock.“But this might be the only time we have for the next few days ...or weeks.Let me enjoy it.”
“Sure,” he growls.“But this is torture.”
I laugh softly, breathless and filthy and drunk on the power of making him unravel.I stroke him again, my thumb gliding over the slick tip, spreading the need he’s dripping for me while my mouth hovers just close enough to tease.
“Come here,” he growls, voice rough, hunger bleeding through.“I need to be inside you.”
Before I can blink, his hands are on my waist—firm, possessive—lifting me like I weigh nothing and settling me against the couch cushions.The room smells like sex and skin, the air thick with everything we haven’t said but are about to feel.
The couch is too small for what’s about to happen.
And just right.
The leather bites at my thighs as I spread wider, already bracing.My legs part without hesitation, wide and aching, every inch of me soaked and open for him.
Cassian kneels between my thighs, towering, his chest rising and falling like he’s barely hanging on.He strokes himself again, slow and hard, precum glistening at the tip of his cock.
But his eyes—God, his eyes never leave my center.Like I’m the only thing in the room.Like I’m not just someone he wants to fuck, but something holy he’s about to ruin.
“You see this?”he murmurs, gaze locked between my thighs.His voice is wrecked, hoarse with restraint.“You’re already soaking me ...fuck.You want this so bad.”
I whimper as he drags the tip of his cock through my folds—slow, deliberate—coating himself in every bit of need I can’t hide.
“Cass,” I breathe, hips tipping up.
“Not yet,” he whispers, his voice a promise and a warning, brushing over my clit in slow, tormenting circles.“Let me take my time.Let me make you feel every second of this.”
His body shifts, the head of him pressing at my entrance.My muscles clench—anticipation, hunger, everything I’ve held back for too long.
I grip the couch cushion with one hand and his forearm with the other, grounding myself as he starts to push in.
Just the tip.
The stretch steals my breath.
“Fuck,” he groans, voice fraying.“You’re gripping me like you never want to let go.”
I nod, gasping.“Don’t stop.”
He slides in deeper, slow, and devastating.“Fuck, you feel unreal.Like you were made to take me.”
