Page 54 of Very Unlikely
“Do you remember when you put your mouth here?” she asks with a moan while joining her shoulder blades together and arching her back off the mattress. “And your fingers in here.”
My dick leaks like a tap when she undertakes a maneuver that leaves no doubt she’s inserting two fingers into her scrumptious-smelling pussy. She pumps them in and out of herself, her tempo increasing the longer I stare.
“Then your tongue licked here…”
Her hiccups are switched for moans when she pretends her thumb is the tip of my tongue. She circles it around her clit, her moans vibrating more than the bass booming out of the speakers in the living room.
“Now that you’ve shown me how to get the job done, I think I could get myself off.”
Through her sheer panties, I watch her pump her fingers in and out of her pussy that’s scent grows more appetizing the longer she finger-fucks herself.
“I don’t need Cody or you. I just need…” She locks her eyes with mine. They’re as blistering as ever. “Your face.”
I fight to keep my feet rooted to the floor when the most beautiful expression crosses her face. She’s right there, on the verge of climaxing, then a prick who doesn’t know how to knock barges into her room like he owns the place.
“Get the fuck out!” I scream while positioning myself between Summer and the door to ensure Cody doesn’t get a snippet of the visual I was just devouring like Summer isn’t drunk.
Cody slants his head and arches a brow. The scent lingering in the air means he doesn’t need to see Summer to understand what’s going on. It’s lusty and brimming with tension. “Why? So you can continue taking advantage of her? You know she’s drunk, right?”
“Becauseyoumade her that way,” I snap back, arcing up to him with my fists at the ready. “Don’t try and pin your shit on me, Larson. I didn’t fucking touch her.”
Like a fool with no concern for his life, he steps up to me like I’m the one in the wrong. “Yet.But who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t shown up? You are a Cabarello.”
We almost come to blows, but before my fist can leave my side, we’re interrupted for the second time. “Both of you out…now!”
As Summer’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, she pushes down the hem of my Morrison training shirt. Her father’s highly distinguishable voice sobers her up a little, but she still looks well over the limit when she slings her bloodshot and lust-filled eyes to the door his gigantic frame is filling.
“Daddy,” she murmurs, confident she’s dead and one hundred percent certain I am to blame for her short life expectancy.
23
Lennox
Ipretend I’m not eyeballing Summer sleeping off what I am certain will be the hangover of all hangovers when Rye’s gruff timbre booms through the suite we just finished cleaning. I don’t know how many people trampled through our apartment the five hours I was at training, but they left enough footprints for housekeeping to accuse us of a stampede. There were also enough beer cans and plastic cups to fill three bins.
“Sorry, what did you say? I zoned out.”
He grunts the same annoyed huff he used when my Morrison training shirt rode up high on Summer’s hued thighs when she greeted him with an overzealous hug. The situation looked bad, but thankfully, Rye gave me the chance to explain I had only arrived home twenty minutes before him.
“I asked…” he pauses to make sure I’m listening, “… when did it happen?”
After dumping a garbage bag full of rubbish by the door for housekeeping to collect, I slump into the armchair across from Summer, then drag a hand over my thumping head. “I don’t know. I’m assuming not long after I left for training.” When Rye glares at me like I’m an idiot, I drop my hand from my head. “That’s what you’re asking about, isn’t it? When Summer decided twenty-one wasn’t too old to throw a house party in the middle of the day.”
He bumps my foot off the coffee table so he can scoot by me without interrupting Summer before he plants his backside into a second armchair next to mine. He takes in the hue on Summer’s cheeks that are more alcohol-based than from the sun before shifting his concerned eyes to me. “That wasn’t what I meant.” He leans forward to balance his elbows on his knees. “I want to know when you caught feelings for my girl?”
I scoff like his claim is heinous. “I haven’t—”
“When did you catch feelings for my girl?”
“We’re not like that. We’re just fri—”
“When. Did. You. Catch. Feelings. For. My. Girl?” he growls out with balled fists and an angry sneer.
“The day we fucking met. Alright? Jesus! Calm down. I’ve had a stiff for her since day one.”
My teeth smash together. More from Rye’s hand clapping me up the back of the head than in annoyance. “Yet you still galivanted around town with your dick hanging out.” When I attempt to correct him, he mutters, “Figuratively, dumbass.” I didn’t know you could feel someone’s anger until now. It is blistering out of Rye. “That’s the reason you were late, wasn’t it? Because your lasthurrahtook longer than planned.”
I shift my eyes to Summer, shocked as hell about her snitching ways. She threatened she’d dob if we arrived late, but with us getting an early head start from her bump and grind routine on my leg during our first stopover, we technically arrived ahead of schedule, so she had no reason to snitch.
