Tongue out.
Eyes locked on mine.
A filthy little promise in the shape of a girl.
I thrust into her mouth slow and deep, both hands in her hair.
“Look at you. All those sharp edges and you’re softest like this.”
She moans around my cock, hands braced on my thighs, throat relaxing to take every inch.
“Fucking perfect,” I say, hips rocking faster now. “You were made for this.”
She gags, drool slipping down her chin.
I hold her there for long enough to watch her eyes water.
“Touch yourself,” I order.
She whimpers and does. One hand between her thighs, the other bracing on my waist.
And that’s fucking it.
I come hard, deep in her throat, her name breaking out of me like a confession.
She swallows every drop. Licks her lips. Smiles like sin incarnate.
She collapses back onto the bed, breathless, flushed, wrists still pink from the cuffs.
I grab a towel from the bathroom, damp it, and clean her gently.
She watches, too tired to tease, too fucked-out to move.
“You okay?” I ask, quiet.
She nods. “More than okay.”
I press the towel to her wrists.
Pull a blanket over her, tuck it around her hips, and slide into bed beside her.
She scoots closer, curling into my chest like we do this every night.
She’s already half-asleep, but her hand finds mine under the covers.
Holds tight.
Like she’s memorizing how this feels before she burns it all down.
I don’t say anything.
I just hold her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Juliet
I’m still humming from Reid. The good kind of ruined.
