Page 78 of Shootout Daddies
I grin. “Careful. Your cocky lawyer side is showing, sweetheart.”
She opens her mouth to retort, but I grip her hips and lift her higher, shifting her until she’s straddling my face instead.
Her laugh breaks into a gasp as I settle her there, my hands firm around her thighs. She grinds down tentatively, then harder, the rough press of her heat against my mouth making me groan into her.
She tastes like salt and sweetness, like everything I shouldn’t want but can’t stop myself from devouring. I tongue her slowly at first, savoring, dragging it out until she squirms. Then I clamp her tighter and draw her down against me, sucking her clit until she cries out.
“Landon,” she gasps, her fingers clawing into my hair, her body rocking helplessly against my mouth.
I lap at her, relentless, until her thighs tremble around my head and her cries pitch higher. She grinds down rougher, desperate for friction, and I let her use me, licking, sucking, groaning against her until her whole body tightens and she comes undone, gasping my name like it’s the only thing tethering her.
The taste of her lingers on my tongue, and I’m already hard again, straining against her leg.
I lower her back down, her body boneless, her cheek pressed to my chest as she pants, dazed. I stroke her hair back, but myvoice is rough when I murmur, “See? That’s what I like about you.”
She laughs weakly, still catching her breath.
But I’m not done. Not even close.
I grip her hips again, rolling her under me, and slide between her thighs, kissing down her stomach as she writhes beneath me. My cock presses hard against her entrance, and I groan into her skin.
Her voice is a whisper, teasing and raw. “You’re insatiable.”
“Only with you,” I mutter, nipping at her hip before sliding back up.
Her legs wrap around me as I press inside her again, slow at first, then rougher as the rhythm takes over. Her nails drag down my back, her moans filling the room.
Every thrust makes me feel closer to the edge of something dangerous.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Rhett
The coals cracklein the grill, heat rising into the humid Miami evening. I shift another skewer into place, brush sauce over the meat, and let the smoke rise around me.
The sun is low, the faint pink edge of dusk cutting across the buildings, and I glance toward the balcony door without meaning to.
“She should be back by now,” Hunter mutters.
I look over at him. He’s sitting cross-legged on the rug inside with Chloe balanced against his thigh. She’s drooping against him, head heavy with sleep. Her tiny fists keep opening and closing as she fights it, but she’s already losing.
Hunter’s cheeks are pink, his arms and shoulders a little red from the hours we all spent at the beach. He looks relaxed, softer than I usually see him, running a hand through Chloe’s curls while Storm lies stretched out at their feet, still damp from the rinse we gave him after the salt water.
Hunter yawns and pats Chloe’s back lightly. “Seriously, man. It’s past seven. She left this morning to meet him. Either she and Landon worked it out, or…”
He doesn’t finish, but the tilt of his brow says enough.
“Or,” I echo quietly, checking the grill. I’m not sure what I expected when she left this morning. Not this silence stretching into evening. Not this uncertainty.
I flip the last set of ribs, trying to focus on the sizzle, but my ears strain for the sound of her key in the door.
And then it comes. A soft click. The knob turning.
Hunter’s head snaps up.
The door opens, and Ivy steps inside.
For a second, I don’t recognize her. Not like this. Her hair is loose, a little messy, strands sticking to the sweat at her temples. Her lips are swollen.
