Is that the worst solution here? Is one more transgression a bad thing?
‘You were such a bastard last time,’ she grunts, pushing at my shorts impatiently, as though she can’t w
ait to see me, touch me, feel me deep inside her. I’m harder than granite, my own needs fierce and uncontrollable.
‘Yeah.’ I was. I was angry—an emotion I rarely feel. But I don’t apologise because I didn’t expect the way her dismissal would make me feel. For the first time in my life a woman treated me like a disposable object. My self-esteem is assured enough that it didn’t actually hurt, but it sure as hell pissed me off. ‘I didn’t appreciate being given my marching orders.’
Her hands still on the top of my boxers. ‘That’s who I am, Barrett, and it’s what I do. I told you that.’
She did. I didn’t take her literally. ‘My mistake,’ I say with a grin, showing her there are no lingering hurt feelings. ‘Let me make it up to you?’
Her cheeks flush pink. ‘I suppose so.’
I laugh croakily then kiss her. This kiss is different because I’m driving it, my tongue duelling with hers, my head bent to take advantage of her upturned face, my body pressing hers backwards, towards the two-seat sofa. It’s nowhere near big enough but it will do for now.
Her fingers work quickly, undoing her own buttons so her creamy chest is exposed to me. I drop my mouth, chasing kisses across her décolletage, marvelling at the delicacy of her collarbone, the fluttering of her pulse there which tells me that even when she acts as though she doesn’t give a shit, she really does. She feels just like anyone else; she just refuses to show it.
Why? What the hell happened to Avery to make her the way she is?
Wanting to know has nothing to do with the Harts. This is me wanting to understand her, wanting to get what’s beneath her ice-cold veneer.
But her hands are around my cock, moving up and down my length so I can’t think straight. Later. There’ll be time to think, and to talk, later: after.
‘If I was interested in justice, I’d pay you back right now.’ She pulls away from my kiss and eyes my dick contemplatively.
‘Oh, yeah?’
‘I mean, I could take you deep in my mouth until you’re this close to coming and then make you leave again.’
My cock jerks at the very idea. Not of being sent packing but of being inside her warm, wet mouth. As if she understands, she grins and moves forward, breathing over my tip so I shudder in an involuntary response, a hint of seed spilling out of me.
‘Like this,’ she murmurs and, before I can adequately prepare, her lips are on me, just the tip at first, her tongue flicking me, her mouth surrounding me, and then she opens wider, swallowing me in her mouth, pausing to adjust for my size before pushing forward until I press to the back of her throat. I have to brace myself on the sofa armrest. Her hands come around to my ass, holding me where I am, and then she moves up and down, along my length, her tongue devouring me, her mouth tightening until I feel pleasure starting in the base of my abdomen, spreading through me like an asteroid. I have to pull back now, to stop this. As if reading my mind, she opens her mouth and sits further back in the chair, leaving my dick glistening and so rock-hard between us.
‘And if I asked you to leave now?’ She arches a brow, reminding me of the way I left her high and dry the other night.
I grimace. ‘Okay, it was a bullshit thing to do. As I said, I intend to make it up to you.’
‘How?’ Her eyes narrow, but I can barely string two words together. I’m this close to coming all over her and the idea of that adds fuel to the fire.
I need to get a freaking grip.
I look down at her, and the answer is simple. ‘By finishing what I started.’
It takes me a second to pull her jeans and thong from her body, pushing them aside before kneeling between her legs, my eyes meeting hers. I want this so badly it hurts—I can still remember her taste, her sweetness and, hell, her responsiveness. As I bring my mouth to her seam and run my tongue over her sex, her little moans fill me with a burst of passion and familiarity.
Just like last time, her hands drive through my hair, pushing at it like that’s the only way she can stay conscious. That idea is its own kind of heaven.
This time, when I feel her body tightening, when her breath gets rushed and her moans get softer and more urgent, I know I want to drive her over the edge. But not before I’ve had a little fun with her first. I move my mouth to her thigh, then down her leg to her knee, but my lips have barely grazed her flesh before she yanks on my hair, pulling my head up so our eyes meet.
‘Don’t you dare stop.’
I laugh, her passionate need my complete undoing. ‘I won’t. I’m only teasing.’
Her eyes widen for a second and a small frown shifts on her face before she shakes her head. ‘Don’t. That’s not what you’re here for.’
I bring my mouth back to her but her words chase themselves around my head, sparking my temper all over again. ‘Not what you’re here for’. This woman commoditises sex in a way I’ve never quite seen before. As though I’m some kind of sexual food delivery she’s dialled up for the afternoon.
Her hands drop to my shoulders, her nails digging into my flesh as she explodes, her orgasm soft but long, her moans flooding the room as she surrenders completely to the pleasure of this.