Page 125 of Forget Me Not

His expression remains aloof, but it’s hard to deny he wants me with his cock hardening in my face and the way his teeth clench together the moment I look up at him.

Those chocolate eyes scorch my face, turning me to a puddle at his feet the moment I take his cock in my hand. I have to say, at this angle, it’s much more daunting.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, looking up at him through my lashes as I stroke him slowly from root to tip.

His pupils dilate, filling with lust I know he’s trying to hide behind his anger with me for our argument.

“You’ve come to show me how sorry you are?” he drawls, voice husky as he finally takes control of the situation, just like I need. I haven’t done this in four years. I want to give to him, like he’s given to me. I want to show him I’m strong enough to overcome anything that’s happened.

I may have made Jack a martyr after his death, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.

I nod, stroking him again and working up the courage to put him in my mouth. Water runs from his cock down my arm to my breasts and there’s something so erotic about it, my thighs clench together involuntarily.

“Show me how sorry you are then.”

Holy hell.

Closing my eyes, I bring him into my mouth, running my tongue over the head of his cock and circling the end. The plan is to go slow, but the moment I move him past my lips, I get lost in the feeling and swallow him whole. He tastes like the earth and him and something so masculine, it feels like I’m doing this for the first time again.

“Fuck, Nova,” he grits, his hand coming up to rest on top of my head. “Slower. You’re going to make me come and I’m not ready to.”

I force myself to slow down, to savor him the way he has with me. I work my tongue over the vein on the underside of his cock, stopping to circle the tip and suck the spot that draws a sharp hiss from his lips.

“That’s it, little bird,” he urges, his voice softer, laced with lust as I pump him in and out of my mouth. “Fuck, that’s so fucking perfect. Swallow me.”

Happy that my nickname is back, I oblige, swallowing him past my lips and hollowing out my cheeks. I bring my hand up, cupping his balls at the same time, loving the way his fingers tighten in my hair to the point that he’s pulling on the roots.

I love Reid like this. Unhinged. Dominating, but always giving me an out. Always making sure I know I’m still in control, even if I’m trusting him to hold it in the palm of his hand for me. It’s what I’ve come to need.

And that’s a real problem I’ll have to think about later, but for now . . .

“That’s it, baby,” he hums, his other hand coming up to caress my cheek—a stark contrast from the roughness of his fingers in my hair. “Look at me, Nova.”

I open my eyes, flicking my gaze up to his and he curses out a silent fuck.

I suck him desperately, my mouth struggling with his size, but the shuddering of his breath is all I need to drive me forward.

At some point, his hand tightens in my hair until he’s driving the pace, moving me over his cock fast and deep until I feel tears prickling in the corners of my eyes. Still, I don’t stop him.

“Such a fucking good girl,” he rasps, eyes live with fire. “You going to swallow my come?”

I nod, though I can’t speak and work against my gag reflex when his length pushes against the back of my throat. His cock grows impossibly thicker, longer against my tongue and I feel like he’s going to erupt the moment before he does, coming down my throat with a deep, shuddering groan.

I swallow it all, like I agreed, and just when I think I’m going to gag from his size in my mouth, he pulls back, releasing me with a grunt.

“Fuck,” he pants, running a hand over his face and blinking up at the ceiling for a moment, as if he’s going to pass out.

Then, that dark gaze locks on me.

“Get up here,” he murmurs, gripping me under the arms and pulling me up until I’m flush with his front. He takes my face in his hands, studying me, like I’m some priceless artifact he’s desperate to find the meaning of. As if he’s disturbed by my presence.

As if maybe, I’ve cracked through that indifferent, cold exterior.

“Fuck, what are you doing to me?”

It’s not a question. Good.

I don’t have the answer.

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