She’s wet.Obscenelywet, slick against my fingertips when I part her, and the sight of her like this—swollen and glistening and aching for me—does something feral to the space behind my sternum. I already made her come once.
But Cruz gave her one too.
The thought snaps through me like a live wire.
That motherfucker gave her one, and he did it right under my nose, in my bed, with his hands on something that has never belonged to him.
My jaw tightens even as my cock throbs against her tongue. Possessive isn’t even the right word for what I feel. It’s something older, instinctual in a way I can’t shut off.
Two.I’m giving her two, and then she’s going to know exactly whose name to scream.
She strokes me in a slow, twisting pull, base to tip, as her tongue flickers against the sensitive spot underneath the head, and I have to look at the ceiling just to keep my fucking eyes from rolling back.
Six years—six goddamn, motherfucking years we could’ve been doingthis.
Instead she left me without so much as a backward glance. Leaving me with only the memories of her. And it’s a pale, anemic thing next to my girl in the flesh.
Her mouth follows her hand. She takes me slow, dragging her lips down my length like she has all the time in the world, like she’s trying to see how fast I’ll fold for her.
Her tongue traces the underside, a long flat stroke that pulls a sound out of me I’m not proud of, and then she hollows her cheeks andsucks, and my whole nervous system whites out for a half second.
“Fuck.” Maybe she knows I’m already too close.
The word leaves me on a rough exhale. My hand finds the curve of her hip, fingers pressing in—not pushing, justholding, anchoring myself to something solid while she takes me apart from the inside out. She hums around me, a low vibration that travels up my spine and detonates somewhere at the base of my skull, and I feel the sound more than I hear it.
I drag my attention back to what’s in front of me as a distraction. This is the first time I’ve had her mouth on my cock in too long, and I’m not going to ruin it by coming too fast. The way she’s working my cock deserves some praise—and because the need to have her on my tongue pulses against my temple like a constant command.
I lick into her in one slow, deliberate stroke, parting her with my tongue, and the taste of her floods my mouth—and I feel something in my chest loosen and pull taut at the same time.
Goddamn, I could live here. I’d burn down everything to stay here—my mouth on her cunt, her thighs bracketing my face, the world outside this bed meaningless.
She gasps around my cock, hips stuttering forward, and I take that as the only invitation I’ll ever need.
I work her open with my tongue, slow and thorough, finding every place that makes her breath catch and her thighs tremble. And then I find the spot that makes her moan—that soft, wrecked sound she tries to swallow—and I stay there.
I tease her ass, tracing the rim with my tongue, light enough to coax a reaction, deliberate enough to drive her wild. Her back arches, a gasp escaping her lips as I focus on that sensitive edge.
She takes me deeper in retaliation, or maybe desperation, her throat opening around the head of my cock, and my hips jerk up involuntarily. My groan is muffled against her, vibrating into her skin, and I feel her shudder. We’re wrecking each other at the same time. And it’s the most unhinged, perfect,rightthing I’ve ever been a part of.
Her grip tightens on my cock in response and her thighs squeeze around my head, like she can’t decide whether to pull away or push closer.
Mine.
“That’s it, Bell. Give it to me.”
I spread her cheeks wide, the soft glow of the room lighting up the curve of her ass. She trembles as I lean in, the flat of my tongue pressing against her. Her breath hitches, a sharp inhale as I plunge into her tight heat, my tongue slick and insistent.
Her back arches, a low moan escaping her lips, her body tensing and releasing in rhythm with each thrust. I can feel her unraveling, her muscles coiling tighter until finally, she shatters.
Bellamy Calloway becomes a moaning, writhing messfor me.
She comes with my name on her lips, half moan and half sob, her thighs clamping around my face, her hips grinding down like she can’t help it, like her body’s just chasing the feeling without her permission.
I ease her through it, gentling my tongue but not pulling away, drawing it out until she’s shaking and gasping and her arm barely holds her up.
Two.
Her mouth on me never stops—even through it, even while she’s coming, she works me with that devastating grip, and I’m so far gone I can feel it building at the base of my spine, alow, tightening pressure that’s been coiling since the moment I opened my eyes and saw her face.
