“I know.” I grasp her hair, pulling back until she’s perfectly positioned for a Spiderman kiss.
But as soon as I move in, she jerks away, driving me fucking feral. In slow, methodic moves, I sink into her, taking my annoyance out on the delicate skin in the crook of her neck, kissing and nipping the same way I want to kiss her lips.
“Keep talking,” I encourage, leaning back on my calves. “What did you mean?”
“That I won’t tell you about my day.”
“Fine.” I pump faster when her walls pulse around my length. “I had breakfast with Conor and Vee.” My thigh muscles scream the faster I drive into Blair, watching my cock disappear in her pussy, fitting so well. “She made waffles with maple syrup...”
“Shut up,” Blair pants, the orgasm hitting her so hard her legs shake, and her back arches off the bed. “One more,” she pleads. “Please, I need another one.”
“When have I ever left you with one orgasm?” I chuckle, breaking another rule to kiss a line up her spine before changing position so she can take what she needs.
She scrambles to straddle me, and fuck... she’s sexier when she takes me in my t-shirt than she is when naked.
How’s that possible?
Naked flesh should win over t-shirts, but the mess of Blair’s hair framing her flushed face, how the soft fabric grips her small boobs, how it bunches around her thighs, giving me glimpses of my cock sliding in and out of her... it’s close to fucking perfection.
“They’re sickening,” I continue my story, recalling Vee and Conor serving breakfast, those lingering looks, smiles, how great they fit... “Conor’s whipped and Vee—”
“All your brothers are whipped,” Blair utters, knotting her fingers on my nape. “Why are you telling me this?! You’re breaking the...oh.” Her eyes roll back into her head when she finds the right angle. One that lets her grind her clit over my abdomen as she cants her hips, getting us off. “You’re breaking the rules.”
I am, but I don’t care. Either we morph these sex sessions into something less clinical, or I’m out because she’s reduced it to jacking off. Fun, but not half as satisfying. The longer we do this, the more detached she is.
“Vee’s as whipped as he is.” I grip Blair’s jaw, spreading my fingers under her chin from one ear to the other as I lean in...
She throws her head back, and I miss again.
Jesus fuck!
“She wants a cat...” I ramble on, kissing, nipping, and sucking the soft, warm skin. Her tight pussy grips my cock harder with every move, another orgasm nearby, “...but Conor wants her pregnant—”
“What are you doing, Cody?” Blair snaps, freezing in place to glare at me. “Why are you talking?Stoptalking!”
I wrap an arm around her back, weaving my fingers into her silky hair and exercising subtle control as I bring her closer, our kiss a breath away. “Make me.”
Her eyes flicker to my lips. A wild storm of emotions—anger, irritation, confusion, andrelief—crosses her pretty face.
And finally, something shifts. With a swift exhalation of air, she surrenders, bridging the distance between us, her soft mouth meeting mine.
I take over immediately. The dam holding intimacy at bay bursts, and we lose it the same way we lost it when I caught her playing with the purple wand.
Every stroke of my tongue is returned with a hunger deep within her. It’s as if she wanted to break this rule since she set it in place, craving the taste of rebellion.
I bite her lower lip, tugging gently, igniting a very different kind of fire than the primal lust burning within us.
Shit... maybe her rules had a point. She’s addictive, and this is definitely the wrong side of the line. Intoxicating tension electrifies the air, inflating my chest, and yep...definitelythe wrong side of the line.
But thewrongside feels so fuckingright.
And when we’re done and sitting at the breakfast bar in my kitchen, devouring the lasagna, talking about Conor’s fixation with babies, Logan’s bachelor party, and Karen’s pettiness... that feels right, too.
TWENTY-ONE
Blair
THE VENUE IS THE ONE MY FATHER ENJOYS MOST. An elegant private room at the back of the Country Club—owned by none other than Nico Hayes.
