Page 118 of Between the Lines

“No man has ever saidnoto having his dick sucked.”

“Maybe asshole men who don’t care about reciprocating. But I do.” The pleasure-pain dances through my system so fiercely, it’s difficult to form words.

Her reaction when I wanted to eat her out has haunted me. Seeing her, touching her, fingering her… but not tasting her. She’d stiffened up all over—a fear response if I ever saw one.

I want to find out why she had responded that way… and killing, maiming, or torturing whoever is responsible for it. Because it’s not hard to believe that there’s a man out there who once made her feel a certain way about it.

Charlotte stretches out beside me. Her hands increase their tempo, gripping me so tightly that I momentarily black out. Her mouth comes to rest by my ear. Lips brush the side of my cheek, and I’m so, so close to exploding.

“Why are you allowed to use your mouth on me, while I’m not allowed to do the same, hmm?” I ask. My voice is barely audible.

She turns her face into my shoulder. “I didn’t think you would mind.”

“I’m close.” I touch my lips to her silky hair. It smells floral and sun-warm. “I’ve imagined eating your pussy too many times to count.”

“That’s very unprofessional,” she says.

“Yes. It is. But that’s not why you don’t like the idea of my mouth between your thighs.” I’m breathing too hard. “Someone made you feel bad about it once. Didn’t they?”

Her hand curves over my head, and I groan. “Maybe they did. But going down on your memoirist would bedecidedlyunprofessional.”

“And jerking off the subject of your memoir isn’t?”

“Maybe neither of us are good at remaining professional.” Her hand squeezes, and that sends me over the edge. Heat erupts through my body and my balls tighten in her hand.

Heavy spurts land on my stomach and my chest, ruining the crumbled button-down. I buck into Charlotte’s hand on the last reflex. The room fades away, the whole world—there’s only pleasure. And her. Her touch. Her eyes.

Afterwards, I press my lips to her head again. “With you, Chaos, it’s the last thing I want to be.”

CHAPTER 43

CHARLOTTE

Aiden turns to kiss my neck. I feel languid and more than a little proud of myself. He’d just told me things I can use to build entire chapters around. Sure, I’ll need to ask follow-up questions, but still…

“Mm-hmm,” Aiden says. “I feel you glowing with triumph.”

I slide my hand into his hair. I love it when it’s messy like this. “Will all our interviews have to be conducted like this?”

“I should saynoto that, or you’ll get everything out of me.” His hands circle my waist, inching up the fabric of my camisole. “What questions can I get you to answer?”

I chuckle. “I’m not so easily manipulated.”

He pulls back and lifts his brow. “Oh? Wanna bet?”

A loud sound rings out through the house. A doorbell. Aiden groans and buries his face between my breasts.

“No,” he mutters.

I run my nails lightly over his scalp. “You’re expecting someone?”

“No. At least not this early. But it seems like she’s here anyway, and she will let herself in if I don’t open in four seconds.”

I sit up straight. “Mandy?”

“The very one.” He releases me with another groan and falls back on the bed, running a hand over his face. “I need a shower before I can talk to her.”

I slide off the bed. The last thing I want is for Aiden’s sister to find me in bed with her brother. To her, I’m still just his memoirist. The one reopening old wounds. “I need to get dressed.”

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