Page 71 of Lassoed Love

“Fuck,” I groan, grabbing a fistful of her long hair. I hold it at the crown of her head—keeping it out of her face as she bobs up and down on my cock. She takes my length as far back as she can, expecting her to gag with her mouth full of my cock, but to my surprise, she doesn’t.Fuck me, no gag reflex?

I’d come then and there if I didn’t have such good restraint.Well, sometimes.She keeps her pace slow and steady, licking my tip each time she pulls back before taking me all the way to the back of the throat, her cheeks hollowing out with each pull, and my head falls back with a groan.

She hums on my cock as she continues to suck me off, applying a harder suction now, as she relentlessly swallows me down. “Fuck, you look so fucking sexy with your mouth full of my cock.” She whimpers, her hooded gaze locking onto mine. “You like it when Italk dirty to you, don’t you?” I croon, and she nods with my cock still in her mouth. She lifts her mouth before releasing me.

“Spit on it,” I prod.

She looks up at me, her eyes wide. Without any delay, she complies. Isla spits on me before running her hand up and down in a circular motion, coating me with her saliva. She takes me back into her mouth and I groan aloud. Isla doesn’t slow down, keeping the same pace now, adding in her hand every now and then to stroke my cock while she sucks on my tip.

“Good girl. Fucck, keep going,” I groan, as I watch her with fascination, and she literally sucks the life out of me.

“Fuck,yes,fuck, Isla,” I groan. She works her hand tightly over my length, sucking hard on my crown as I tip my head back, groaning out in pure ecstasy. I feel her hand trail down,lower, beneath my shaft, and all it takes is for her to grab hold of my balls and tug before I’m muttering complete nonsense as I tip over the edge.

“Coming–I’m coming,” I growl. With her mouth full, she moans—creating that vibration I fucking love—and I shoot my load into her mouth, my body wracking with intense waves of pleasure. She swallows it all down, like a fucking pro. Sucking me dry and clean until my body feels limp and spent. Popping her mouth off me, she wipes her lips with her fingers, cleaning any spillover.

In a rush, I’m hauling her up off her feet, pulling her into my lap so she’s straddling me, and I slam my mouth to her—my tongue stroking hers, hands in her hair.

“Fuck, Isla. I think that was the hardest I’ve ever come.” My legsare fucking shaking, and she giggles. She rakes her fingers through my hair as she tugs on the hair at my nape. In this moment, we’re the only people in this universe. Nothing else matters. It’s just us. Yet, in the quiet space, with nothing but our heavy breathing, a quiet storm rolls in my mind.

I’ve never encountered this kind of connection before—it’s throwing me for a loop. I’m not one to get all sentimental and shit, but there’s something about Isla that’s got me questioning the usuallylaid-backme, and I’m also not about to spill my guts and risk freaking her out.

As our eyes lock and the world outside fades away, I wonder if she feels the same magnetic pull. The chemistry is there, no doubt, but decoding her thoughts is like solving a puzzle blindfolded. Is it as real for her as it is for me? It’s like walking on eggshells, trying not to mess up the good thing we’ve got going. I’m no relationship guru, but this?

This is uncharted territory.

29

My car engine hums softly as I navigate through the quiet streets, since leaving Xavier’s—the gentle purr providing a backdrop to Imogen’s lively chatter. She sits beside me, a whirlwind of energy and enthusiasm, filling the confined space with her animated tales.

Imogen, with her boisterous spirit, spends the last leg of our journey unravelling her thoughts.

“Olivia is just the best, you know? I mean, who wouldn’t love her? And don’t even get me started on Harrison. Ugh, that fucker just infuriates me!”

I offer a soft chuckle, letting her vibrant expressions wash over me. Imogen’s vivacity is a stark contrast to my own quieter demeanour. The contrast is somehow comforting, like the ebb and flow of a familiar rhythm.

“I swear, Isla, if you don’t tell me something is going on with you and Xavier, I’m going to combust!!

“He couldn’t take his eyes off you the entire time we were there. It was like you had this magnetic pull on him.”

Despite my efforts to downplay my reaction, I can’t help but remember the intimate moments we shared, the midnight mischief that led to us falling asleep together. I had quietly slipped away early in the morning, retreating back to the sofa bed, leaving him undisturbed.

As I drive, the events of last night replay in my mind. Xavier had pulled me onto his bed to lie down, despite my refusal. I remember feeling both nervous and excited, my heart racing at the thought of being so close to him. And then he had wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a warm, comforting embrace.

I, Isla Thompson, cuddling with Xavier Mitchell. The thought still feels surreal, like something out of a dream. I feel the warmth spreading across my cheeks, betraying the thoughts swirling in my mind. Imogen, ever perceptive, notices my blush and turns to me, her gaze intensifying with curiosity. She narrows her eyes, leaning in for a closer look, and I can almost hear the wheels turning in her head.

“Hold the fuck up,” she exclaims loudly, her voice tinged with excitement. “There is, isn’t there!!! Oh my god, you little cow, why didn’t you tell me? ME, your best friend of ALL time!”

She pouts and places her hand on her heart dramatically. I can’t help but chuckle at her theatrics. Such a drama queen.

“You better tell me everything. Don’t spare any detail, or I’ll riot!” Her eyes widen with anticipation, waiting for every juicy detail. I take a deep breath, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as I begin recounting the night at my father’s place, the incident that Imogenis already familiar with. However, as I delve into the aftermath, the moments shared in Xavier’s car after leaving my father’s, Imogen’s eyes widen even further.

“Wait, you never told me about that part!” she exclaims.

I continue, sharing the details of last night. Imogen, usually full of words, sits there stunned, processing the revelations. The air hangs heavy with the weight of my untold stories, and as I finish, a profound silence envelops us, punctuated only by the soft hum of the car engine.

Imogen’s stunned silence triggers a pang of worry within me. Imogen isneversilent.

“Uh, you good?” I cautiously inquire.

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