She shimmies backward and bends forward, her tongue darting out to lap at the new dollops of precum and toy with my piercing.
Good fuck.
“I’m not … will you help me?” She closes her lips around the tip, swirling her tongue agonizingly slow, before adding, “So I know that I’m doing it the way you like?”
And the spell wins. There’s no fighting this.
“You’re perfect, Little Moon. Just like that,” I praise, palming her head as she works her way down. “Can you take me deeper?”
Her eyes flit up to mine before she plunges over the majority of my shaft, the sensation too fucking much.
A gravelly moan escapes me as I fist her silky locks. “That’s it, baby girl. All the way down. Open your throat and breathe through your nose.”
She does, taking about seventy-five percent of me with a gag, which has her trying again and again in a fervid cadence, as though she’s ravenous. Drool drips down her chin and coats me all the way to my balls. If that isn’t enough, the slurping noises alone could unhinge me.
I almost lose it, but I want this to last, so I clench my jaw and push through the tormenting pleasure. “You’re so fucking beautiful, choking on my cock. And when you come—Jesus, I need to see you come again, Rena.”
Her eyes find mine again—where they should always be—and I swear they’re glistening with an emotion that should scare me, have me putting an end to this, but instead, it coils around my heart, urging me to drown in all she is.
“Such a good girl for me. You keep those gorgeous green gems on me and touch your—” My words are devoured by a thunderous knock on the front door and an obnoxious six-ring chime of the doorbell.
What the fuck?
Rena’s eyes widen to the size of saucers as she releases me with apopand bolts straight up. “Are you expecting someone?”
“No.” I move her to the side and catapult off the couch in one fluid motion. My heart is thrashing against my sternum as various shitty possibilities consume me, and more violent knocks whomp the door. Grabbing a pair of jeans from the chair in the corner of the room, I throw them on in a flurry and notice Rena is practically hyperventilating.
“Do you think it could be my brothers? Tell me you didn’t freaking call them.”
Once my jeans are buttoned, I grab two of my pistols, sticking one in my waistband. As I flip the safety off and cock the other, I jerk my chin to the bathroom. “I didn’t call them, but they were looking for you, and I chanced it by moving us here. Get dressed.”
A horn blares from somewhere outside, although it doesn’t sound as though it’s coming from the direction of the driveway. Whoever is causing the ruckus is pissed. Not a single positive prospect comes to mind. And nearly every one of them has either her family or mine involved.
Wanting Rena to be protected in case that’s not what we’re dealing with, I reach into my bag for another weapon. “Let me get you a gun.”
She scurries to the bathroom, peering back at me over her shoulder, and lifts her black leather backpack into the air. “I’ve got one. If it’s Axel or Ryker, don’t tell them I’m here. Please. I’ll hide.”
I’m not sure that’s wise if we’re caught, but what the hell do I know at this point?
“I’ll see. Stay hidden and armed with the door locked, until I say otherwise,” I instruct her as I prowl out of the bedroom, making my way down the hallway toward the disturbance.
The knocking has dissipated, but the honking has morphed into an irate drone. I creep over to the front window in the foyer and peek out the blinds. There’s no one on the front porch. There’s no one to be seen anywhere. If we weren’t so secluded, I’d consider the possibility of a neighbor in trouble. But that’s unlikely because this house is the sole residence on this street.
If it were Axel, he’d be on the porch, waiting to deck me or worse. Nothing is making sense. But just as I contemplate letting the mystery lie because it seems to be retreating, the horn blares again. I disarm the home-alarm system with the five-digit code, swing open the door, and pluck the second pistol from my waistband, checking the porch and front of the house. It’s all clear. I’m on the last step, leading down to the walkway, when a car door slams and tires grind from the side of the house.
Dirt and gravel fly from beneath the wheels as the vehicle fishtails. I can’t make out enough of the license plate from here, but my stomach sinks. Something isn’t right. I sprint back into the house, shut the door, and reinstate the alarm. A series of three short beeps sounds, alerting me that either a door or window is still open. I press the button on the control panel that shows the location.
The master bedroom, where Rena is.
My heart leaps to my throat. Rushing into the bedroom, I immediately discover that the balcony door is wide open and do a quick sweep of the room. The bathroom door is still shut, but upon twisting the knob, I find it unlocked, so with my gun drawn, I push it open.
Empty.
She’s gone.
But there’s a note on the bathroom counter.
Hey there, sexy sailor.
