Page 92 of Fire Fight

When the back of his hand brushes against my inner thigh, it sends a wave of arousal crashing through me, infiltrating every nerve ending, every cell until my body unites in a beseeching cry for more.

The press of his pen in such an intimate place, fills my mind with devious thoughts, calling forth a matching depravity from my body. Finished writing his name, Drake presses his warm wet mouth against his signature, then his tongue ventures farther, licking along the outside of my pussy.

His thick fingertips follow, their roughness adding a tactile layer, tantalising close to where my clit throbs, swelling until its insistent voice fills my brain, overpowering my senses.

My knees are forced wider, tongue prying me apart to glide through my inner folds. As his tongue lingers, flattening against my clit, the pleasure builds until it feels other worldly.

A tear of pure bliss falls down my cheek, dropping to wet the shoulder of his fitted jacket.

“You taste so sweet.” Drake raises his beautiful eyes to mine, their sheen still visible in the increasing darkness. The gorgeous flecks of colour intensify as his tongue works its magic on my body, stiffening to penetrate my entrance. “You’re so sweet and tight.”

His words act as an amplifier until the cravings overtake me. I fight against the restraints, desperate to run my fingers through his luscious hair.

I want to guide him, invite him further, press him harder against me, encouraging a deeper exploration instead of the maddeningly soft teasing touches, sparking fresh desire with each stroke of his tongue, the pressure building to a maddening crescendo.

Then he stands, swaying towards me, body hard against me from head to toe before he rips himself away, leaving my skin stinging.

“Hold that thought,” he says, rearranging my dress to cover me again, his marks hidden from view apart from the tiny claim on my lip. “I’ve just got to go check on someone, then I’ll be right back.”

“No.”

The raw desperation in my strangled voice makes him chuckle. I straighten against the tree as he backs away, straining against the tie as I understand he’s serious, he’s leaving. Theretreat lays waste to the slow build of anticipation, tipping me into panic.

“No, you can’t leave me stuck here.” I jerk my hands, expecting the binding to fall apart, but it holds, speed no indicator of quality.

In five steps, he’s lost to the dense bush, only my ears able to pick out his progress.

My throbbing core weeps tears of longing, aching for his swift return while the rest of me unites in one opinion.

Drake is still a champion arsehole, even on his good days, and there’d better be an apology orgasm on the cards to make it up to me when he returns.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

DRAKE

I cutthrough undergrowth with an impatient swat of my hand, getting onto the footpath just in time to duck into hiding again as a carload of teens pull to the kerb.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I stifle a curse. When I lick my lips, I taste Cadence on them and want to forget what I have planned, returning to her side to finish the job I started.

“Arlington,” a thin voice warbles from the opposite side of the road. “I can see you hiding in there.”

I check both ways, then hurry across to meet Travis. A buddy from boot camp who’s always got a clear spot in his calendar when there’s something destructive planned.

“You got the equipment?”

“Everything’s organised,” he assures me, patting my arm like I need soothing. “All I need is you to take care of the cameras and we’re good to go.” His eyes narrow as his gaze sweeps across the suit I wore, an attempt to impress Cadence. “And, just as an aside, what the ungodly mother of fuck are you wearing?”

“Keep the sweet talk for your DMs.” I melt into the shadows at the sound of a car engine, but it continues around the curve to the main road, and I relax. “You said five minutes, yeah?”

“Thereabouts.”

“Five minutes.”

He rolls his eyes but gives a hum of agreement. I lean against the opposite neighbour’s fence while working to disarm the system. I grabbed a patch last night and feed it into the recording now, to make it look like it’s live.

“We’re good.”

Trav slinks across the road, blending into the darkness of the driveways surrounding Gretchen’s while I stay alert for trouble, adrenaline pumping.

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