It settles on the back of my head. “I’m going to come in that pretty mouth of yours.”
My sex clenches. I want that too.
I nod, sucking on him. I suck harder. Harder. I need more of him. I need him coming in my mouth.
Something in Brendon’s expression shifts. Some animal part of him takes over as he presses his palm into the back of my head.
His movements get harder. He thrusts into my mouth hard and fast. He thrusts deep enough I gag. But I fucking like it.
I like how dirty I feel.
I like being a vessel for his pleasure.
Feeling like I’m his.
I dig my nails into my skin to contain the desire building in my core. To keep from gagging.
I look up at him. Watch his dark eyes fill with pleasure, his lips part with a groan.
“Fuck, Kaylee.” He tugs at my hair.
His movements get harder, faster. He’s close.
And then he’s there, filling my mouth. He tastes good and it feels good, knowing I brought Brendon all that pleasure.
Once I’m sure he’s spilled every drop, I swallow hard.
He reaches down to take my hands. Then he pulls me up and presses my body against his.
His lips find mine. His tongue claims my mouth.
He pushes my shorts to my knees as he breaks the kiss. “Sit on the couch and spread your legs.”
I stumble, falling back onto the soft couch. I’ve sat here a hundred times. No, a thousand.
But never like this.
Brendon’s dark eyes light up as he takes a long look at me. He moves closer. Closer.
Then he’s kneeling in front of me.
He pulls my shorts off my feet. His hands close around my thighs, just above my knees.
In one swift motion, he pushes my legs apart. My knees press into the slick leather fabric of the couch. I fall onto the cushion.
Brendon drags his lips up my inner thigh. Closer. Closer. Closer.
There.
His lips brush against me.
My thighs fight his hands. I want more. I want all of him.
But I also want to give myself to him.
I want to be his.
He teases me mercilessly. He blows hot air against my clit. Then cold. Then he’s brushing his lips against me. Then it’s slow flicks of his tongue, so soft I can barely feel them. He gets every inch of me.
Pleasure builds in my core. I’m ready to overflow, but he’s not pushing me toward the edge. He’s only building my need.
“Please.” I tug at his hair.
Still, he teases me. His tongue stays soft and slow. The pleasure is diffuse. It’s everywhere. I feel good in a way that hurts. In a way that begs for release.
“Brendon, please.” I press my legs against his hands.
His grip stays firm. He looks up at me, his brown eyes on fire. “You’ll come when I say you come, angel.”
The edge to his voice makes my sex clench. I can’t believe it, but I want him in control of my orgasm.
I can’t believe how much I’m willing to give myself to him.
How deeply I trust him.
Still, he teases me. I tug at his hair and press my thighs against his hands. It does nothing to contain how badly I need release. I’m wound up. I’m close. And I desperately need to go over the edge.
It’s like he can read me. His motions get harder. Faster. He takes his time ramping up his speed and pressure. The intensity makes it feel like hours pass.
He goes faster.
Harder.
His soft, wet tongue is heaven.
His fingers curl into my thighs as he licks me.
The tension in my sex builds to a crescendo. Almost. So fucking close.
There.
With the next flick of his tongue, I unravel.
I groan. I writhe. I tug his hair hard enough to rip it out.
He holds me in place, still flicking his tongue against me. It’s too much pressure. I can’t take it.
“Brendon.” I try to press my legs against him, but his grip is too firm.
I’m staying on this couch, his mouth on me, as long as he wants me here.
Fuck, the pressure is intense. I can barely take it. But I can. As painful as it is, I don’t want him to stop.
He flicks his tongue against me. His motions get harder. Faster. It’s still intense. It still hurts. But now the pleasure outweighs everything else.
I get lost in the bliss growing inside me. A few more flicks of his tongue and I’m there.
I scream his name as I go over the edge.
I shake. I writhe. I tug at his hair.
I feel my orgasm all the way in the tips of my toes.
This time, Brendon releases me. He pushes himself up, takes my hands, and pulls me into his arms.
His touch gets soft. Gentle.
Like he thinks I’m his.
But I’m not.
Not until he knows every part of me.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kaylee
Saturday night is busy. And I’m closing. I get caught up in the noise and the demands. I don’t stop to rest or to think until I’m tallying my receipts. Even then, it takes all my mental energy to tap the numbers into my phone.