Page 22 of Faking It (Close Quarters 1)

“Are you...?” His hand twitches, as if he’s going to touch himself again but I make anuh-uhsound. “Are you undressed?”

“Almost.”

I’m in lacy underwear, heels and no bra. But I hook my fingers under my waistband and drag the black silk and lace down over my hips. I step out of the underwear and dangle it from one finger. Then I move closer to him, draping the silk over his swollen cock. I drag it up his length, wrap it around him and rub the silk over his skin.

“Hannah,” he growls.

“Annabel,” I correct him as I pull the underwear back and whip it across his stomach. His body jerks and his nostrils flare, but not from pain. Oh no, it’s all pleasure now.

“Annabel. Is that...?”

“Yes.”

He stifles a groan. “I want to touch you.”

“Not yet.”

I toss my underwear onto the floor and slowly sink to my knees. The water glass beckons and I take a big mouthful, relishing the slide of the cold liquid down my throat. But the water isn’t intended solely for hydration.

I take another big gulp and set the glass down. I saw the tip once in Cosmo, to drink cold water or suck on ice cubes before giving head. The sensation is supposed to be amazing for the guy. It was one of those cheesy articles:Ten Ways to Pleasure Your Manthat I used to laugh at with my girlfriends back when I thought blow jobs were all about the guy.

But right now, I want nothing more than to take Owen into my mouth and suck him until he forgets why he ever said no to me. Until he understands the giddy, lust-fuelled attraction that turns my brain to jelly.

I don’t want to be the only one feeling this way.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his hands reaching forward to see if I’m there.

I brace one palm flat against his stomach and lower my mouth to the tip of his cock. It’s beaded with pearly liquid, and I wrap my lips around him.

“Fucking hell.” His fingers drive through my hair, flexing against my scalp in a way that mixes the sharp snap of pain with a whole lot of pleasure.

He’s hot and pulsing on my tongue—tastes and smells earthy in a way that’s one-hundred-percent masculine. Yeah, this isn’t just for him.

“That...” He grunts. I release him for a second and look up, catching the way his head lolls back as I continue to work him with my hand. “Christ, that feels good.”

I lower my head down again and relish in the power cursing through my veins. I’ve never felt like this during sex. Never felt like I could bring a man to his knees. But the sounds coming from his mouth tell me all I need to know—for now, for this moment, I’m in charge.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Owen

THECONTRASTISenough to undo me. Hannah’s mouth is somehow hot and cold all at the same time. Her fingers form a tight ring at the base of my cock and her mouth works over me in a way that feels so good it makes my head spin.

I keep a tight grip on her hair, pumping my hips back and forth. But I want to see her now, because I’m the kind of guy who likes to feast with my eyes. I yank the blindfold off and toss it to the floor.

Holy. Freaking. Shit.

Hannah’s naked, except for her glossy mirror-finish heels, which poke out behind the round curve of her ass as she balances on her knees. Her lips are swollen, wet. Her cheeks are flushed the prettiest shade of pink...the tips of her ears, too. With each bob of her head, her dark hair brushes over my stomach and thighs.

“Look at me,” I command.

Hannah tilts her face ever so slightly, enough to angle those big brown eyes up. But her mouth continues working me—her tongue circling my head, her cheeks hollowing as she applies the perfect amount of pressure. It’s even hotter with the eye contact.

Sparks shoot through me, and I feel so damn alive. I haven’t felt like this in...years. The whole time I’ve been in New York, I’ve been a shell. A hardworking, hard-partying shell.

“Testing time is over,” I growl.

“Can’t hang on?” she teases, rocking back on her feet and standing.

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