Page 77 of What Happened on Roslyn Street?
My hands shake. I’m needy and overstimulated, but I obey. The muffled music and his heavy breaths are all I hear when I realize—it’s my turn to torture him.
I follow the command but move at a leisurely pace, my fingers brushing over his bulge before they slowly move to the button on his jeans.
I lean in, pressing kisses through the fabric of his pants. He looks at me with longing. A rumbling groan emits from somewhere deep in his chest.
Slowly, I unzip his pants, pulling them down to his ankles. His length springs free, and I take it in my mouth. I pepper soft kisses against the tip and leave lipstick marks as I go.
“I know what you’re doing,” he rumbles, his fingers tightening in my hair.
“Oh?” I run my tongue over the entirety of his length, my eyes never leaving his. “What’s that?”
“You’re taunting me.” he sighs. “But, to what end?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Slowly, I wrap my lips around him, eyes flickering closed as I suck.
He moans,and my toes curl.
“You’re still doing it,” he murmurs, gently pressing my head.
I move along with the motion without any resistance, and he applies more pressure to my head. Slowly, he guides me as I take him in, my warm mouth wrapped around all he has to give. I’m pliant for him, letting him guide me through the motions, my eyes opening to meet his darkened gaze.
I’ve rendered Caldwell speechless—it feels like a feat, considering how mouthy he was moments prior. He looks at me with pure need on his face, and none of his retorts.
My hand moves to grasp him, stroking as my head bobs faster, my lips suctioned around him.
He can’t control his sounds—there’s no holding back the grunts and moans, the twitches of his hips.
“I’m going to—” He gives me a warning, and I don’t need it, moving faster, my tongue against him to encourage it. His hands are in my hair again, pushing me until his cock hits the back of my throat. His hips thrust in shallow motions as he shoots cum down my throat.
“Fuck,” he grunts, another rare curse, something that has me smiling as he pulls out of my mouth. “Come. Get up.” The words are an order, but he helps me with gentle hands, and when I’m there, he peppers sweet kisses to my wet mouth. “Are you okay?” he murmurs, stroking my hair.
“Yes,” I say, laughing against his mouth. “A little worried about the bird man watching, but…”
“Don’t worry about him.” His nose bumps against mine. “Look at me.”
I do, and a silence stretches between us as he meets my eyes, our foreheads pressed together. His hands roam over my body, grasping me through my top, fingers slipping under my shirt to graze against the underside of my breast.
“I need more,” he whispers.
“That is dangerously close toyoubeing the one to beg,” I say, with a lifted brow.
The sound he makes is a groan—is it pleasure or frustration?
“Tell me you need it, too,” he says.
I don’t answer with words, but a maddening kiss, my hands pressed to his chest to lead him to the bed. In another situation, I would think about how dirty the thing is, but at the moment, I don’t care.
He switches us around in a heartbeat, turning so he’s the one leading me. There’s nothing gentle about it when he pushes me on the bed.
“I need a better taste of you,” he murmurs, positioning himself between my legs.
My breath hitches. I’m left waiting for his mouth, ravenous for the touch, and then?—
There’s a knock at the door.
I look at Caldwell with wide eyes. I’m dressed, but he—decidedly isn’t.
“Put your pants on!” I whisper harshly, unsure who could be on the other side.
