Page 118 of Seven Lost Summers
Because I’ve pictured this a hundred times.
Too many fucking nights when the house was quiet, my hand wrapped around my cock while I thought about all the things I’ll never say out loud.
It isn’t some faceless girl in those thoughts. It isn’t her moaning or crying out. It’s him. It’s Nate.
Naked. Flushed. That cock thick and leaking, aching for a hand that isn’t his.
I can almost feel him—his hard cock filling my palm, my fingers wrapped tight around him, my thumb dragging over the slick head. The twitch in his hips when I squeeze too hard and he can’t hold the sound back.
Fuck, I want to see him unravel in my grip. Not for her. Not for anyone else. For me.
I bet his voice changes when it’s me.
Bet it drops low, goes rough, gets desperate when I twist my wrist and find that perfect rhythm. I want to stroke him slow, then faster, until the sound spills from his throat, something raw and needy he’s never let me hear. I want to drag him over the edge, watch the tension ripple through his abs, watch his thighs lock, that split second of stillness right before he spills hot and messy over my hand. His mouth open, his eyes locked on mine, every filthy, fucked-up second screaming all the things we’ve never been brave enough to say out loud.
My gaze shifts, and Quinn is staring at me.
Fuck.
Did she catch it?
The way I couldn’t stop watching Nate, my eyes locked on his cock like I wanted to wrap my mouth around him and take every inch?
Shit. My throat goes bone-dry, pulse pounding hard enough to rattle my ribs.
Nate’s hands close on her, his grip so firm it pulls a gasp from her chest. He drags her across the sheets in one rough, greedy pull until she’s right at the edge of the bed.
Her head drops back over the side, hair spilling wild toward the floor, throat arching into a perfect line.
I crawl up onto the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight as I slide between her legs. My hands grip her thighs, spreading her wide. I lower my head, ready to bury my tongue in her, to taste every filthy drop she’s got for me—but my eyes suddenly snap to Nate.
He stands over her, cock thick and hard, pre-cum sliding down the flushed head. His fist wraps around the base, stroking once, as his eyes lock on her mouth and the curve of her throat stretched bare beneath him.
I lean in and drag my tongue over her clit, soft at first, harder the next pass, slow enough to savor the first hit of her on my tongue.
Fuck.
It’s instant, hot and sweet all at once. A low groan rips from my throat, vibrating against her pussy as I press in deeper, tasting her like I’ve been starving for it.
Her hips jerk in my grip, a desperate little twitch that makes my fingers tighten around her thighs. I go again, dragging my tongue over that swollen bud, firmer this time, and she gasps, the sound spilling into the air as Nate watches, stroking his cock.
He leans over her, the head of his cock brushing her lips, smearing himself across her mouth.
“Open,” he growls. “Open that mouth and let me fuck it.”
Quinn whimpers, lips parting, her breath hitching against the tip of his cock.
I shift my eyes to Nate as he lines himself up.
My tongue flicks against her clit again, and the second that desperate moan rips out of her, I feel it everywhere.
The way her mouth opens obediently, tongue flicking out to taste the tip of his cock as if she’s been dying for it, makes my own cock throb so hard it’s painful.
Nate groans under his breath, as though that single swipe of her tongue might already take him out.
She opens wider for him, her lips wet and shining.
Nate wastes no time, pushing in slow, savoring the first tight slide of her lips wrapping around him.
