Page 67 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

Daisy reached for the button of my jeans. She flicked it open with her tongue caught between her teeth, her gaze steady on mine. The sound of her lowering the zipper echoed in the silence. The cabin might as well have been a tomb. Nothing else existed beyond what was occurring within these four walls.

What would occur, for good or bad.

She didn’t bother with teasing. Instead, she simply yanked down my boxers and my jeans, pulling them off with my socks and boots.

Then she licked her lips and murmured, “I do have some experience with this,” and slid her mouth over the head of my cock.

Fuck.

Slowly, she drew me into her wet warmth. Surrounding me in her heat and suction and wrapping her delicate hand around me with so much more strength than I could’ve given her credit for.

All the while, her deep blue eyes dragged me into someplace unfamiliar. A place where she asked for my trust, when I didn’t deserve the question.

I would destroy her faith in me. It was inevitable.

Sometimes it was better to steer into the crash than to try to avoid it. Cleaner. More expedient.

Fisting a hand in her damp hair, I hauled her off me as she struggled to catch her breath. Before she could, I pulled her right back.

She opened as if she’d been waiting for the demand. Aching for it.

Sucking me down, she reached beneath my shaft and cupped my sac, her crazily strong fingers doing things that shouldn’t have felt good yet turned my brain inside out.

She couldn’t breathe and neither could I.

Both of us dying for more.

Threading my fingers through her hair to cup her head was the only thing keeping me on my feet. I gripped her too hard. I knew it, but I didn’t stop. I forced her down my length, testing her, testing myself.

Her velvety blue eyes watered as she complied. Never hesitating. She made a sound that veered on pain, and tears gathered on her cheeks, making the bruise that much more pronounced.

Open a vein, make it bleed.

She grabbed my thigh, her short nails digging in. Leaving welts. Her cheeks flushed, and a droplet of sweat wound down the side of her face while the muscles in my legs tensed.

Already, I was so close. With every suck of her mouth, every twist of her wrist, the pulse of blood pounding in my temple and inside my dick grew to the point of bursting.

At the last second, I ripped her back by a handful of her hair, holding her still while she panted and sobbed for air. Her swollen lips were smeared with me, and I dragged her halfway up my body to ravage her mouth.

We went at each other like feral animals, teeth crashing together, tongues dueling. She scraped her nails down my lower belly, inches above my painfully hard cock, and my balls throbbed.

So close.

I wanted to spill inside her mouth. All over her brand new red lace and her gorgeous tits barely hidden beneath it. But more than anything, I wanted to come inside her with nothing between us.

Not because I didn’t have a condom. I did. I had plenty. But I was so fucking tired of holding back. Of pretending I had good inside me when it felt as if I was nothing but darkness, cold and empty and unforgiving.

Want me? Take every fucking drop.

But I didn’t get to make the choice. Not this time. She dove down even while her eyes were still streaming. Her throat and jaw had to ache. She had to be in agony, because I was a brutal man who didn’t care if I made pretty, sweet girls cry.

And my pretty, sweet girl wasn’t even allowing me the option to break her. She was breaking herself first.

On her own terms.

She drew on me relentlessly, hollowing her cheeks, drawing my gaze to the bruise like a warning

sign before I couldn’t take it a second longer and fisted my hands in my own hair. She reached up and grasped a handful of my T-shirt, pulling on it until I realized she wanted my hands back on her head. Directing her. Forcing her to swallow me until the pain between us vibrated like energy in the air.

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