Page 87 of Playing for the Hat Trick
Except she’s not.
I am.
My control’s hanging by a thread so thin it might as well be imaginary.
“Scottie,” I pant, voice strangled. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna come down your throat, and you’ll only have yourself to blame.”
She pulls back—slow, dragging her tongue along the tip one last time—then strokes me twice, still meeting my gaze with that I-run-this-shit look that makes me want to ruin her.
“Maybe I want you to.”
Her voice is calm. Controlled. Like she hasn’t just burned the last of my restraint to the fucking ground.
And then she opens her mouth.
Just . . . opens it.
Tongue out. Eyes on mine. That look.
My hips jerk before I can stop them. She wraps her lips around me again, deep and tight, and, fuck—I’m gone.
I grip her hair, trying to hold on to something, but the second she hums around the head of my cock, I lose it.
“Scottie—fuck—oh, fuck, I’m?—”
I come hard, groaning like I’m dying, hips stuttering, the orgasm ripping through me so fast and brutal I actually see stars.My thighs shake, my abs seize, and she takes it all. Swallows around me like a goddamn pro, lips sealed tight, eyes never leaving mine.
I don’t think I’ve ever looked sexier or dumber in my life.
She pulls back with a soft pop, licking her lips slowly like she’s savoring it.
“Fucking hell,” I rasp, chest still heaving. “You’re trying to kill me.”
She smirks. Wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb.
“Still alive, aren’t you?”
“Barely.” I blink. Then move.
I grab her by the waist and toss her back—onto my bed, thank fuck, soft and rumpled, sheets still warm from round one. She lands with a gasp, legs falling open just enough to tempt me into losing my mind all over again.
I yank the boxer briefs I lent her off. “It’s your turn.”
Her eyes flare. “You don’t have to?—”
I cut her off with a growl.
“Oh, I want to.”
I crawl between her thighs, hands sliding under them to anchor her where I want her. She tries to sit up, maybe to argue, maybe to grab control again, but I push her back down with a firm hand to her stomach.
“Stay there. Let me have this.”
Her eyes darken. Her breathing stutters.
She stays.
I press a kiss to the inside of her knee first, then trail them higher. Soft. Purposeful. Worship disguised as teasing. Her thighs tremble by the time I reach her center, already soaked and slick from how wrecked I made her earlier.
