Something snaps in my chest as I realize I want to be the one to give him what he needs.
I trace the tip of my fingers around the head of his cock, eliciting a shudder. A drop of pre-cum beads at the tip.
“Cele—”
I slide him into my mouth.
The following groan is enough to wake the house.
How long has it been, Quin?
I slide over his length in long, languid strokes, keeping my eyes on his gorgeous face as it falls apart bit by bit. When his hands tighten around my face, it’s the only warning I get before he takes over.
“Sorry, baby. It’s either this or fuck you on the sofa,” he rasps.
I shake my head to say it’s fine.
I want him to have what he wants.
His pace quickens, sinking further into my mouth. Tears burn behind my eyes, and I clamp around him, sucking hard to fight off my gag reflex.
“Ah, fuck...” His grip turns punishing in my hair.
My hands wander his thighs, tracking to his balls. I roll them through my fingers, and his head falls back on a low moan.
Good.
When his movement turns messy, I take up the rhythm and his gaze finds mine again.
“Bab—”
I tap my cheek, and his eyes all but roll back in his head.
I’ll take it all, if he’ll give it to me.
But when his gaze returns, it’s desperate. It’s like...
Hot release floods my tongue and I swallow it down—every wave he gives me.
Quin stills, his hands planted on my face. And I lose his cock from my mouth. Rough hands haul me to my feet a moment later, then strong arms have me off them. He sinks into the sofa, and I curl up in his lap.
“Fucking hell, CC,” he whispers into my hair.
“Yeah” is all I can say.
His chest is still heaving. He wraps himself around me, dotting kisses down my neck and over my shoulder.
Embers bloom in my core with every hot, heady kiss that brushes my skin.
And I?—
I turn on his lap, sinking my knees into the cushions either side of his thighs. “Quin.” My hands find his jawline, his blues meet my gaze, and warm palms guide my mouth to his.
We weren’t going to . . . but I . . .
I swallow hard.
God, all I want right now is him. Is us.
