Page 74 of Second-Rate Superstar

My mind raced, trying to form a coherent thought through the haze.

Only one word made sense at that moment. “You.”

Braxton smirked. “You already have me.”

He was teasing me, but I wasn’t in the mood, too desperate to feel his hands on my body, bringing me a type of pleasure I’d only ever known on my own. I had a feeling it wouldn’t compare, but there was only one way to find out.

Out of words and done with games, I reached down, gripped the hem of the sweatshirt, and pulled it over my head. By the time the fabric cleared my field of vision, Braxton’s eyes were molten gold, scanning my form with a hunger that made me shiver.

That was the moment he realized I wasn’t wearinganythingbeneath the hoodie.

Braxton’s hand, still resting on my thigh, tightened, and its partner dragged down his face as he stared at me in disbelief.

“Is this clear enough?” I breathed out, chest heaving as I tried desperately to control my heart rate. This was the first time a man had ever seen me naked.

“Jesus Christ.” The words from his mouth were so reverent that they could have been mistaken for a prayer.

A trail of fire followed Braxton’s hand on its ascent over my hip to the curve of my waist before cupping one of my breasts. When his thumb brushed my nipple, I gasped, the sensation overwhelming. I’d watched women on screen play tug furiously on their nipples while amid sexual acts, but I hadn’t understood it until this moment. It shot a jolt of electricity between my thighs.

Arching into his touch, I silently begged for more. Expecting a second hand to join the first, I groaned when the wet heat of his mouth descended on my free nipple. The rocking of my hips grew insistent, the friction driving me insane as he teased the distended peak with his teeth.

I needed more. More of what, I had no idea, but I would take whatever Braxton wanted to give me.

Spearing my fingers through his hair, I hung on for dear life. I was teetering right on the edge, ready to combust. Braxton switched sides, giving the opposite breast the attention of his mouth. With his hands free, he gripped my hips and ground me down on his cock straining against the only fabric separating us.

When I whimpered, I could feel his smile against my skin. “Is this what you want? You want to make yourself come by rubbing your hot little pussy over my cock?”

My eyes slammed shut at the mental imagery. This physically powerful man would willingly let me take my pleasure from his body? I was overwhelmed at the mere thought.

“How about I tell you what I want?” he rasped, and I forced myself to look at him.

“Please,” I begged, lost to the lust swirling in the air.

In a flash, Braxton stood with me still in his arms. Ignoring my squeals of protest, he spun us around and lowered my body to the couch, kneeling between my open thighs.

When his gaze dropped to that exposed, bare part of me, his sharp intake of breath reached my ears. “Holy shit, Dakota.”

Point for Hannah.

Peeking down myself, I asked, “You like?”

“Like?” he huffed. “I’ve never seen a more perfect pussy in my entire life.”

I squirmed as he lowered his face. The concentrated attention made me slightly uncomfortable. But then his warm breath skittered over the heated flesh slick with arousal, and all traces of self-consciousness vanished.

“Is this what you had in mind when you texted me tonight? You wanted me on my knees for you?”

Moaning, on sensory overload with his mouth so close to my pussy that I could feel the vibrations of his words, I closed my eyes.

Hands on my inner thighs, forcing them open wider, had my head snapping to meet his gaze.

A wolfish grin curved on his lips. “Do I have your attention now?”

My lips parted as pants flew past, punctuating the air.

“Use your words, Dakota. I know you have them.”

Whining, I shook my head. I was past the point of talking. My brain was mush, focused on one thing and one thing only—the orgasm looming just out of reach that I needed more desperately than I needed air.

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