Page 32 of End Game

Then, as he curls them right into that sensitive place, he sucks my swollen clit into his mouth. He sucks in a measured cadence as his fingers move in time with his mouth.

The word again leaves his mouth more times than I can count.

By the time he finally gives me a reprieve, I have no fucking idea how long we’ve been doing this.

Seconds. Hours. Possibly three fiscal quarters.

My body is trembling, my thoughts are soup, and Ronan looks entirely too pleased with himself.

“Cameron.”

Even him saying my full name like that gets a reaction out of me now.

His voice cuts through everything else, low and certain, and my eyes find his automatically.

The satisfaction on his face deepens.

Oh, fuck him—he knows.

“You’re already doing it,” I accuse breathlessly.

“Doing what, sweetheart?”

“You fucking know what.”

His smile is pure sin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a liar,” I say quietly, my eyes drifting above my head.

“Look at me.”

I look—immediately.

The asshole’s eyebrow rises as he still smiles.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” I concede.

His quiet laugh does terrible things to me, but then his expression changes. The teasing doesn’t disappear entirely; it settles beneath something heavier and more intent.

He reaches up and brushes damp hair away from my face.

“Color?”

“Green.” No hesitation. No uncertainty.

Then, without any more words or warning, he tips my hips up a little more and thrusts into me with his cock.

“Fuck,” I almost scream.

He thrusts for a minute, and then he flips me onto my knees and fucks me from behind until he comes.

After turning me back over, his eyes stay on mine for another long moment before he leans down and kisses me.

This kiss is different from the frantic ones earlier. There’s nothing tentative about it, but there’s no desperation either.