Page 202 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

The urge to fuck her mouth rises, greedy and unstoppable, but I hold myself still, fingers digging into the wood of my desk, because the only thing I want more than being inside her right now is to watch her enjoy this, to watch her fall apart for me while she takes me apart.

She pulls away with a gasp, wipes the back of her hand across her lips, and gives a little satisfied, almost greedy, shake of her hair.

Then she spreads her knees just a fraction wider on the hardwood.

Her left hand slips under the edge of the hoodie, then under the waistband of her leggings, and she doesn’t break eye contact as she cups herself, working circular pressure into the soaked center of her body.

The visual of it, her small hand moving insistently under dark fabric, her mouth shiny and red, is a live wire shot straight through my chest.

She jerks my cock, once, twice. Her breath shudders and so do I. I stare down at her and pump into her fist just to feel her grip tighten.

She watches me, dark and unblinking, while she hums in her throat, all the while working herself under the hoodie. Her hand speeds up in time with my pulse. I can see the tension in her neck and shoulders, every inch of her body straining for closeness.

“Fuck, Willow.”

She smirks, lips swollen and slick, and kisses the head of my cock, tongue darting over the slit.

“Gabe,” she whispers, voice trembling, “I need you to come first.”

The command obliterates me. My vision tunnels to a point, everything else in my world reduced to her mouth, her hand, the wet heat of her tongue and the obscene glint in her eyes. I fist her hair and brace for the end but she pulls off again, grinning, and strokes me with an excruciating grip.

She opens wide, bracing one hand against my thigh, taking me in until she’s choking and proud.

She’s still touching herself, fingers working in tight, desperate circles, and the sound she makes as I pull out of her mouth does something irreversible to me. I look down at her. Flushed jaw, wet chin, hoodie slipping off one shoulder. I fist myself once, and then completely lose it, knees locking, hips bucking into her fist.

She takes the first pulse with her mouth, swallowing without hesitation, not even blinking as I spill across her tongue and her chin.

I hang there, heart stuttering, the whole world whiting out. Willow strokes through the aftershocks, warm and almost affectionate, even as she’s streaked with me, mess dotting her throat and knuckles.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes glinting up at me.

My brain resets, an old computer coming back online. I drop to my knees in front of her, catching her face in my hands.

I tip her chin up, and I can’t help but kiss her, even with the taste of myself still smeared on her lips, locking us together in a spiraling, sticky heat.

There’s no confusion or hesitation in her now, just a molten, undiluted want. I reach under the hoodie, and her whole body pushes forward, urgent and greedy, her mouth opening on a gasp that ends as a snarl when I hook her leggings down enough to get at her.

She’s soaking, sticky wet and pulsing in my palm, and she arches her back to press herself against my hand.

“Look at me, Gabe,” she grinds out, hips fighting against my fingers. “Need you to keep watching me. Need it so fucking much.”

I do. I watch her.

I watch the hunger and the ache and the shine of sweat breaking at her hairline. I dig my thumb in circles just below her clit, and she sucks air through her teeth and clamps her knees on my wrist, hard enough to leave marks.

The taste of her arousal is everywhere but more than that is the satisfaction of knowing she’s all in, trusting me, greedy for me, letting herself be seen when she’s this undone.

She’s sensitive now, skin flinching away even as she drags my hand harder against her. I curl a finger inside and she keens, fist tight in my shirt.

I think she’s going to stop me, but then she bites down on my shoulder, half sobbing, half laughing, and then shatters, shaking around my hand, her forehead pressed to my collarbone, riding out the aftershocks with an animal growl that would be funny if it wasn’t the hottest thing I’d ever heard.

Hot damn, I will never get enough of this woman.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Willow

Iknew this was a bad idea the second we got out of the SUV.