Page 40 of Ink Me Three Times
And then…
She drops to her knees.
Her palms skim down my thighs as she sinks, kneeling in front of me like a fucking sin in that stolen shirt.
My dick is hard enough to ache, straining against my waistband, and when she looks up at me, eyes wide and dark and gleaming with want, I nearly lose it.
"Ivy…" I croak.
She tilts her head. Smiles.
And it’s wicked. Dangerous.
"Tell me to stop."
She knows I won’t.
Knows I can’t.
Instead, I fist a hand in her hair, just enough to make her gasp, just enough to feel her breathe faster under my grip.
"You’re playing with fire," I growl, voice almost a snarl.
"I know."
She licks her lips. That same reckless fire in her eyes.
"And I hope it burns."
Then she moves. Slowly, like she's savoring every second.
Her hands slide to the waistband of my pants, fingers teasing, sliding beneath the fabric with deliberate slowness. I feel the heat of her touch through the cloth, each tug of the material a promise of something hotter.
She pulls them down, just enough to free me, her fingers brushing against me with a soft, almost calculating touch. The air feels colder against the exposed skin, but it’s the way she looks at me, eyes gleaming with that reckless fire, that has the heat in my blood spiking again.
And then, like she’s in no rush at all, she moves again.
Her mouth is heat. Wet and eager and filthy in the most perfect way. She licks the head of my cock like she’s savoring it, then takes me in with a slow, devastating glide that has my knees damn near buckling.
"Fuck," I groan, head dropping back, the wall catching me.
She sets a rhythm, slow, then fast, tongue swirling, lips tightening. Every pass of her mouth wrecks my ability to think.
Her nails dig into my hips, holding me in place. No hesitation. No fear. Just hunger.
And when I tug her hair again, harder, she moans.
She loves it.
Wants it rough. Messy. Wild.
So I give it to her.
"Look at me," I growl, tightening my grip. "Eyes up, Ivy."
She does.
Fucking hell, shedoes, and those eyes?
