Whatever panic flashes across my face, he catches it.
“Breathe,” he says. “I’m not scared anymore. You’re not fucking up my life, Mia. You’re lighting it up. You make me want more than I let myself ask for.”
The air goes still. Or maybe it’s just me.
“I call you Trouble because you undid me. And I don’t want to be put back together the way I was.”
My chest caves around the inevitable exhale.
He leans in and kisses me. Lips soft but certain. A kiss that rewrites everything.
Then his mouth descends. One kiss at a time. Down my chest. Over my stomach. Lower. Until he’s between my legs again.
“Now let me finish what I started.” One flick of his tongue and my legs turn boneless.
His tongue fucks me deep and ruthless. Fingers find my clit and circle with maddening precision. He’s everywhereat once. Of course he is. World-class surgeon with a world-class tongue and fingers.
They switch places. Pres flicks my clit over with cruel intent, building pressure with the tip of his tongue. Then his fingers find their rhythm inside me, coaxing me to the edge again.
“I knew you were trouble,” he says, breath hot over my cunt, “when you ran into me naked, and my dead cock came back to life. I haven’t stopped dreaming of my nanny’s tits and ass since.”
Preston’s figured out my body and its warning signs. He reads me too well—every twitch, gasp, the timbre of my moan—and he pulls back the second I crest, so mean and perfect.
“I knew you were trouble,” he murmurs, licking slow, “when my house felt better with you in it. And how fucking dangerous it is, knowing you did that without trying.”
No. Nope. No more of that kind of talk. Go for my pussy, Doctor, not my heart.
“Suck my clit and stretch me open, Doctor,” I growl, fisting his hair and grinding on his mouth. “I need your cock.”
“Trouble isn’t an insult, Mia,” he says, soaked in need. “It’s an addiction. It means I’m obsessed. That I’d ruin myself just to keep tasting you. And when I have to go without, I’ll lose my goddamn mind.”
He devours me with his tongue up in one long, masterful lick.
“But go ahead,” he huffs a dark little laugh, eyes on mine, “shut me up by begging for my cock. That’ll work every fucking time, baby.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
mia
He doesn’t giveme a break though. Just stays right there, beard glossy, breath heating the wetness between my thighs.
“You’re shaking, baby,” he rasps, tongue gliding across me, taking his sweet fucking time. But when he flicks my clit, he’s sharp. Deadly.
“Pressss—” He licks pure voltage into me, and I jolt.
He smiles, looking entirely too pleased with himself. To be fair, he cracked some secret code and now owns the patent to my orgasms.
“Yes, Mia?” He kisses the spot gently this time.
God, his words and breath down there are more than I can take. I need him inside me before I come again.
“Cock. Now.”
But instead, the man rests his cheek on my thigh. Like it’s a goddamn pillow. No rush. No shame. No survival instinct.
“You’ll get it, baby. I’m nowhere near done with you.”
“Yeah, I gathered that part from when my legs forgot how to leg, and yet, you continue to show me no pity.”
