Page 5 of Depraved

I turned to face him, suddenly very aware of how close we were. Our knees brushed under the table, sending a jolt through me. "I'm fine," I replied, aiming for nonchalance. "Just ready to get this shit done so we can move the fuck on.”

Sarge studied me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching mine. I fought the urge to squirm under his intense gaze. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand over his hair. "Look, I know you're not fine. Not in the fucking slightest." I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to stop me. "Let me finish. I'm not saying this to piss you off or make you feel weak. I'm saying it because I care about you, Layla. And I'm worried."

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the lump forming in my throat. Sarge rarely got this open and vulnerable. It wasunnerving. "I don't need you to worry about me," I muttered, dropping my gaze to the table. "I can handle myself. Always have."

Sarge's large, calloused hand covered mine, his thumb tracing circles on my skin. The gentle touch sent shivers up my arm. "I know you can," he said. "But you don't always have to. It's okay to let someone else carry the weight sometimes."

I looked up at him, my eyes burning with unshed tears. The concern in his gaze was almost too much to bear. For a moment, I wanted nothing more than to collapse into his arms and let go of all the pain. But then reality came crashing back. I couldn't afford to be weak, not now. Not when we were so close to finding Gage.

I pulled my hand away, straightening my spine. "I appreciate the concern," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "But I don't need a shoulder to cry on. I need to destroy something. And maybe a chocolate bar or something.” I stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over my whiskey glass. "I need some air," I muttered, stalking towards the back of the plane.

The tiny bathroom felt even smaller as I slipped inside, gripping the edges of the marble countertop. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, taking in the dark circles under my eyes, the tension in my jaw. I’d cut my hair last month, but it was already growing, just barely reaching my shoulders now. I wasn’t taking any chances in a fight anymore.

Before I could fully collect myself, the door burst open behind me. Sarge's massive frame filled the doorway, his eyes blazing. I sucked in a breath, backing up until my ass hit the sink. In one fluid motion, he stepped inside and locked the door behind him.

"What the f—" I started to say, but the words died in my throat as Sarge advanced on me. He gripped my hips, spinning me around and pressing me back against the counter. His bodypinned me in place, solid and warm. One large hand tangled in my hair, tugging my head back.

"Maybe you don’t need a shoulder to cry on, but how about a face to ride on?"

Without waiting for a response, Sarge dropped to his knees. His hands gripped my thighs, spreading them apart as he buried his face between my legs. Even through my jeans, the heat of his mouth sent shockwaves through me.

I gasped, my hands flying to his shoulders for support. "Holy shit…”

With deft movements, Sarge unbuttoned my jeans and yanked them down along with my underwear. I kicked off my heels, cool air hitting my heated skin as he tossed the garments aside. His large hands gripped my thighs, spreading them wide.

I shivered as his hot breath ghosted over my pussy. Sarge looked up at me, his dark eyes smoldering with need. “I told you not to fucking push me, Lala. I warned you I can only take so fucking much before I snap. If you want to act like a little brat, then I’m going to treat you like one.”

Without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and ran his tongue along my pussy lips in one long, slow lick. A strangled moan escaped my lips. He hummed under his breath as his fingers dug into my skin. “Brats get their cunts licked until they shut the fuck up, don’t they?”

The scrape of his beard had me quivering. My head fell back against the mirror as Sarge's talented mouth went to work. He licked me like a man dying of thirst, his tongue exploring every part of me. When he found my clit, he circled it teasingly before sucking it between his lips.

White-hot pleasure surged through me. My hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against his face. Sarge's stubble scraped deliciously against my inner thighs as he devoured me.

How many times has I fucked my own fingers with this exact scenario playing out in my head? How many nights did I moan Sarge’s name into the pillow while some random enforcer fucked me from behind, wishing to god it was who I really wanted?

One of his hands left my thigh, and I felt thick fingers probing at my entrance. He slid two inside, curling them to hit that perfect spot. The dual sensation of his fingers pumping in and out while his tongue flicked rapidly over my clit had me seeing stars.

"Oh fuck," I panted, my fingers tangling in his hair. "Don't fucking stop?—"

My entire body trembled as his skilled mouth and fingers worked me into a frenzy. The tiny bathroom was filled with the obscene sounds of his licking and sucking, mixed with my breathless moans.

Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in my core, building to an almost unbearable intensity. I was right on the edge, so close I could taste it. Sarge must have sensed how near I was. “Come in my mouth, brat. Give me what I want…”

"Oh god, oh fuck—" I cried out, my back arching as waves of ecstasy crashed over me.

I probably should have warned him ahead of time that I was a squirter. My legs shook uncontrollably as I rode out the pleasure. Sarge didn't let up, licking up my release as aftershocks rippled through me. Liquid coated his lips and beard as I convulsed, my thighs shaking as I moaned.

Only when I weakly pushed at his head did he finally pull away. He stood slowly, wiping his glistening beard with the back of his hand. His eyes were dark as he gazed down at me. "Feel better?" he asked, with more than a hint of smugness.

I narrowed my eyes at his stupid grin. “Maybe.” My legs felt like jelly, and I gripped the edge of the counter to stay upright. "Don't look so pleased with yourself."

Sarge chuckled, the sound low and gravelly. He stepped closer, caging me in with his arms on either side of the counter. The heat of his body radiated against mine, and I could feel the hard length of him pressing insistently against me.

"Can't help it," he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. "Who knew orgasms were the easiest way to get you to stop brooding.”

I huffed. “Brooding? Yeah, coming from you, that doesn’t mean much. You’re the fucking king of brooding.”

Part of me wanted nothing more than to drop to my knees and return the favor. To feel him heavy on my tongue, to hear those deep groans of pleasure... Brooding my fucking ass. He just wanted a taste. He’d been salivating for it ever since the night everything went to shit.

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