Page 33 of The Hero + Vegas = No Regrets

NINE

Sophia

Worth’s friends describe him as the kindest, wisest, most dependable man in New York.

I’ve discovered he’s all those things. He’s also the dirtiest.

I’ve never really enjoyed a man going down on me. In my previous experiences, the guys never knew what they were doing. They didn’t do it for long enough, and I always felt pressure to come two minutes ago—like slow-building pleasure was an inconvenience.

It’s not like that with Worth.

Heinstructedme not to come.

Instructedme. Commanding and domineering. It’s… unexpected.

I haven’t known him for long, but Worth doesn’t strike me as a man who commands anyone to do anything. He’s the ultra-polite guy who tips thirty percent and helps old ladies cross the street.

Except this Worth—bedroomWorth—isn’t polite at all.

He presses down on my lower stomach, and I gasp. What’s he doing? He’s sliding his fingers into me, his thumb rubbingagainst one part of me, his tongue on every other part. I’m lost in sensation.

His instructions were clear—I’m not to climax under any circumstances, but I don’t have a choice. He’s doing things to me I’m not sure are legal. There’s no way I can stave off the orgasm that’s been circling me for the last few minutes.

I take a deep breath, trying to give myself a few more minutes, but it doesn’t work. He needs to stop touching me like that. Stop doing the things he’s doing to me with his tongue.

The thought dissolves as soon as I have it. I don’t want him to stop anything. I want to stay like this, my legs around Worth’s neck for the rest of my life. I cry out. The pleasure is so intense, so deep, so enveloping, I can’t feel where I end and he begins.

I try to twist, to remove myself, to get out from underneath him so I don’t break my word and climax, but he’s got me pinned to the bed. There’s no escape.

The thought is the final string left of my resolve and I call out his name as I surrender to my orgasm and convulse under his tongue.

I haven’t moved, but my heart is telling me I just ran a marathon. I can’t catch my breath. I’m boneless and limp.

“Oh dear.” Worth’s voice comes like a roll of thunder. “You promised me you wouldn’t come, but I can taste your climax on my tongue.”

Oh god, I’ve never found a man as sexy as I do Fully Clothed Worth, but Naked Worth, chastising me for climaxing in his mouth, might have the ability to make me come without even touching me.

“Worth.” My voice comes out dreamily, like I’m waking up from anesthesia or something.

“You know what that means, don’t you?” he asks, his face dark and serious. I squirm with need. His cock is rearing, hardand huge in front of me, and I can’t wait to feel it again, even though the idea is mildly terrifying.

Because Worth is packing.

He’s not the guy in the friend group that screams Big Dick Energy, but I guess his dick is so big, he doesn’t have any need to prove anything to anyone.

He was so sweet and gentle to me the first time, before my first orgasm. It was just what I needed. And I guess he gave me what I needed just now, because I’ve never come from a guy’s tongue before.

Worth seems to know me in the bedroom, better thanIknow me in the bedroom.

A small smile curls my lips. “It means, I win?” I suggest.

He lifts his chin. “How’s that?”

“Because you’re going to fuck me so hard, they’re going to hear me over at Ceasars Palace?”

He growls, the sound so fucking masculine, I can barely stand it. He grabs my ankle, flips me over and pulls me to the edge of the bed. My toes touch the floor, my stomach on the mattress, and Worth is between my legs.

“Face down,” he barks and grabs a pillow. “Cover your mouth.”

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