Page 77 of Serving the Maestro

She looked at me from under her lashes, the silent question there clear as day.

“I’m yours,” I said softly. If she’d asked, I would have told her just how completely she owned me.

But she just smiled and undid the belt buckle, drawing out each task until I was gritting my teeth against the urge to tell her to hurry.

When she’d finally freed my cock, I groaned, reaching down to wrap my hand around the base, fisting myself in an effort to ease the ball-busting ache.

A shuddering breath escaped Jazz.

Looking at her, I saw her lashes drop, her tongue sweeping across the lower curve of her lips.

“What are you going to do now?” I asked, the words gritty.

“What can I do?” she asked.

“Whatever you want.”

The purple-blue of her irises darkened, and she leaned forward, her hand coming up to wrap around my cock, fingers lacing with mine. The wet, slick caress of her mouth had me arching up, the pleasure sending a lick of heat down my spine.

She retreated, and I tried to follow, only for her to slide down again, the wet, delicious heat of her mouth sheer bliss.

Mindlessly, I tangled my free hand in her hair, hips pushing upward to urge her deeper.

She responded by scraping her teeth along the sensitive underside of my cock when she withdrew. Her eyes blazed at me, held me, challenged me.

Freeing my hand from hers, I shifted, now gripping both sides of her head.

“Yours,” I said again. “But you can’t expect me to be quiet and still when you’re driving me crazy.”

A light glinted in her eyes. Then she moved back down, pausing as the head of my cock hit the back of her throat—then she swallowed, the silken heat tightening a fraction before she slid back up.

Her hands stroked along my tense thighs, her nails raking over the denim as she dragged them down. I groaned when she broke away from me but stood at her silent urging when she tugged on the waistband of my jeans.

She pulled and tugged until she had the denim and my boxers down but stopped once she had them just below my hips, her hands coming up to grip my hips, her eyes holding mine as she licked my dick to the top before circling her tongue around the tip.

Growling, I gripped my cock at the base with one hand and tangled the other in her hair. She smiled, the fervent, blind desperation no longer haunting her eyes.

“You want to make me crazy,” I said.

“You’ve been doing that to me almost from the beginning.” She scraped her teeth gently over my cock before giving me another teasing smile.

“Open,” I said. “For fuck’s sake...please, Jazz.”

She licked the tip again, opening to take me inside, but at a pace so slow, I thought I’d lose it.

Groaning, I shifted my other hand to her head as well, staring down at the picture she made, on her knees in front of me, my cock slick as she pulled back, then swayed forward, each movement tantalizing, erotic. I tugged on her hair when she went to pull back but stopped, reminding myself I was letting her lead here.

She saw something in my eyes, awareness, understanding, and reacted by covering the hands I still had cupped over her head, pressing harder.

I got the message and gave in to the insanity growing between us, thrusting into the hot, wet cave of her mouth, muttering to her, feeling her body heat rise, feeling her shake.

It was bliss, having her mouth on me, her hands clutching at my hips as if she wanted to hold on tight.

But before I could come, I stopped, gripping Jazz under the arms and pulling her up. She was breathless, her mouth gleaming and swollen. Catching the hem of her fitted blouse, I stripped it off, then dipped my head to kiss the swells of her breasts rising over the pretty lace bra.

“Fuck, I want you,” I muttered. “I’ve gone crazy not having you with me.”

Her hands gripped my biceps, nails digging in. “Same. I want you inside me, Trent. Now.”

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