I seize his throat, shoving him up and away. And damn, the flicker of surprise on his face, that brief calculation gleaming in his eyes, it fills me up like nothing I’ve ever felt.
Until I duck down and press my lips to Haven’s.
It could be one last roll from the molly, but I’m sure that’s out of my system by now. So the wave of euphoria that swells up inside me has to be something else.
Is this what love feels like?
It’s only ever hurt before.
My angle is wrong, and I want to?—
need to
—intensify this without hurting her lip, so I slide my leg in beside Rooke’s, forcing Haven’s legs open even wider, forcing him to give me space above her.
Rooke’s shoulder is flush with mine, skin on skin, friction building as our bodies slide against each other.
And Haven moans?—
because he’s fucking her?
—and I break off our kiss just long enough to see, but Rooke’s teasing her nipple with his teeth, one hand in her hair, the other cupping her tit.
“Fuck…” Haven whispers, but then she’s silent, because I’m kissing her again. My tongue slides between her teeth, forcing its way in when she hesitates like she doesn’t realize this is the next step.
How can anything feelthisright when everything about this is so fuckingwrong?
I’m panting, grinding my sweatpants against her hip, wishing I was hard enough so I could be inside her instead, but fuck, this is doing it for me too. And Jesus, I’m building up to a climax or something, because I’m going faster, panting harder, and Haven’s moaning against my mouth like she’s encouraging me?—
“Try as hard as you want, it’s not going to happen, boy,” Rooke grates into my ear.
I break off the kiss, the heat on my face intensifying, and it has nothing to do with friction or lust—it’s shame.
Haven’s lips tremble, her breath sighing out of her in disappointment.
Rooke grabs my hair like he’s grabbing hers, and he starts pushing me down, and Jesus, now he wants me to suck his dick? Is that the price I have to pay for this?
I’m fighting him, because I don’t know if I want it, if I wanthim, if I wantanythingbut Haven’s sweet mouth and the pussy I’ve been fantasizing about since?—
But he’s still wearing his sweatpants, and he’s pushing me between Haven’s legs, not his. And then wrenching me up when I go too low, because what the fuck do I know about eating pussy? I’ve never fucking done it before.
Haven’s gasp when my mouth closes over what I assume is her clit feels like a pleasure punch right in my fucking groin. I moan at her taste, at her slippery skin, at the way she rolls her hips.
“Start slow, no teeth. Use your tongue,” Rooke whispers above me, a sex therapist who’s sold his soul to the devil. “Listen to her. Let her tell you what she likes.”
And fuck, he’s right.
She’s silent, barely moving until I flick my tongue against the little engorged bud above her cunt, and she bucks into me, moaning, her collar rattling.
Clink.
So I do it again, and again. Until her legs are quivering beside me, and her moans are strangled and weak.
My one hand was still on her breast, but Rooke lays his hand on top of mine and drags it down her body, between her legs.
“Add a finger up to the second knuckle. Slow, not hard. She’ll tell you if she likes that.”
His voice is so seductive, so authoritative, that I don’t even think to question him. I follow his instruction to the letter, and Haven rewards me with a little kitten mewl of pleasure, her head rolling from side to side.
