She pulls off just long enough to breathe, her forehead dropping to my thigh. “Gage, I’m too sensitive.”
“You’ve got one more in you.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It’s too rough, scraped raw.
“I’ve already comethreetimes.” It’s a garbled plea coated in disbelieving laughter.
“I need one more, Bell. Are you gonna give it to me?” Desire for her opens up inside me, vast and endless.
I want her so fucked up on me she can’t think straight. To take up so much space in her nervous system that there’s no room left for anything else—no room for Cruz, no room for Rafe, no room for the six years she spent somewhere I couldn’t reach her.
She makes a sound—half laugh, half whimper—and then her mouth is back on me, hungrier now,urgent, and I match her. I leave no inch of her unexplored.
Mine.The word lives in my chest like a heartbeat.
I work her harder this time, my fingers curling deep in her cunt while my tongue moves in tight, relentless circles around her clit, and I feel the moment it shifts—the way her thighs start to shake, the way her breathing turns ragged and shallow, the way she loses her rhythm entirely and just holds on.
She comes apart like something giving way—a low, broken cry, her whole body shuddering, clenching around my fingers so hard I groan against her. And the sound of her, thefeelof her, the taste of her flooding my tongue—it tips me over the edge I’ve been walking.
I come with my face buried in her cunt, her name a ruined exhale into her skin, my whole body going taut and then slack, pleasure crashing through me in long, rolling waves.
The air outside is cooler.It doesn’t help.
She’s still on my skin, still inside my nose, and I can’t tell if that’s the problem or the only thing keeping me upright right now.
The door clicks shut behind me. The lot is empty, washed in that sick yellow light that makes everything look like evidence.
Cruz is perched on the back edge of the SUV like he owns it. One foot on the ground, the other hooked on the bumper, a joint burning slow between his fingers. Smoke drifting up into nothing. The picture of a man with nowhere to be and nothing on his conscience. He looks up when I get close.
“Tell me, brother,” he says, and takes a drag and exhales it toward me. “Whose name did she call out—mine or yours?”
My fist finds his jaw before I decide to throw it.
He spits blood onto the pavement. Works his tongue along his teeth, unhurried, like he’s taking inventory. Then he tips his head back to shake the hair out of his face and laughs—low and mean, the kind that isn’t meant to be funny.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“It’s not,” I say.
“No?” He tilts his head. His eyes don’t move off mine. “You should’ve felt the way she clenched around me.” He groans—slow and deliberate—and raises the joint to his mouth. He inhales along the line of his fingers before he reaches the joint.
I stare at his hand—and the fucking fingers that were just inside my girl.
I know he’s fucking taunting me—and yet, I fucking rise to the occasion anyway. I fist his collar and shove him back againstmy SUV. “She's not something for you to play with just because you're bored. Don't treat her like that.”
He grins, but it’s cruel around the corners. “I don’t know, brother, I think shelikes itwhen I treat her like that.”
“Don’t fucking push me on this, Cruz. I mean it.” I shove him back once, releasing his shirt from my fists.
He straightens up, rolling his shoulders back. “Or what?”
“Or you’ll answer to me?—”
A dry laugh scrapes out of him. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”
“And Rafe,” I continue. I feel the edges of my face twist into something ruthless.
Cruz shakes his head, but he doesn’t lose the smirk even when his eyes narrow. “So you’re cool with Rafe fucking her, but not me? Did I get that right?”
Irritation flares at the reminder that the only fucking girl I ever loved is fucking around with meandmy brother.
