I laughed under my breath. “They were joking about you again.”
His brow lifted slightly. “Oh, yeah?”
“They still think you’re ridiculously hot.” I tried to keep it casual. “Kiara said you could bench-press a Buick.”
He snorted, almost amused. “They haven’t changed.”
“Apparently not.” I watched him. He was careful and guarded but not distant. Just tired.
I stepped closer, leaning against the island. “Long day?”
“Long week.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Site’s a mess. Deadline’s tight. Crew’s short. You know how it goes.”
“I do.” I reached out, fingertips brushing his wrist. “You’re exhausted. I can make you something. You hungry?”
He didn’t pull away. Just watched my hand on his skin. “I’m good, sweetheart. Bought takeout for the guys and ate on-site. But yeah, I’m beat.”
I slid my palm up his forearm, my movements slow as I felt the corded muscle from years of work. “You don’t have to crash on the couch tonight.”
His breath caught. “Lila.”
I stepped into his space, close enough that my breasts brushed his chest. “I want you to sleep in your bed. With me.”
He exhaled sharply. “We said?—”
“We said a lot of things.” I rose on my toes, lips grazing his jaw. “But I’m dying here. I need you.”
A low growl rumbled in his throat. His hand shot out, cupping the back of my neck, thumb pressing against my pulse. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t hesitate as he lifted me onto the island in one smooth motion, spread my thighs with his hips, and kissed me. The kiss was claiming and possessive.
I moaned into his mouth, fingers diving into his hair, tugging him closer.
He broke the kiss, breathing hard. “On your knees.”
My heart raced at his gruff demand. I slid off the counter, sank down slowly, knees hitting the tile. He unbuckled his belt with those big man hands and shoved his jeans and boxer briefs down. His cock sprang free, so big and thick, veined, and already beading at the tip.
“Look at you,” he rasped. “On your knees for me. Open wide.”
I did, and he instantly guided his head past my lips, groaning as my tongue swirled around him, tasting and sucking on all that salty pre-cum. I took him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, sucking hard. His hand gripped the back of my head, holding it still, hips rocking in shallow thrusts.
“Fuck—good girl,” he growled. “Take it all. Let me fuck that sweet mouth.”
I moaned around him, the vibration making him curse. My hands gripped his thighs, nails digging in as he picked up speed. He was careful not to choke me but rough enough that tears pricked my eyes. Saliva dripped down my chin, and he smeared it across my lips with his thumb.
“Such a filthy little thing,” he muttered. “Sucking my cock in the kitchen where anyone could walk in. You love how wrong this is, don’t you?”
I nodded frantically, humming yes. My pussy throbbed, soaked and aching. I reached between my legs, desperate, but he growled, stopping me.
“No,” he snapped. “Hands on me. You don’t touch yourself tonight. You get to taste how hard you make me then go to bed dripping.”
I whimpered and obeyed, moving my hands back up his thighs, and cupping his heavy balls. I rolled them gently while I sucked him. He groaned, hips stuttering as he shoved in deeper until I gagged.
“Fuck… so close,” he warned. “Gonna come down your throat. Swallow every fucking drop, baby.”
I hollowed my cheeks, tongue working the underside of his cock. He thrust once, twice, and then buried himself deep, growling my name as he came. Hot, thick spurts coated my tongue. I swallowed greedily, milking him until he shuddered and pulled out with a wet pop.
