Page 78 of The Devil Gets His Due

“The point is for me not to come in two seconds flat, which is something you’d never let me live down.”

I fight a smile. “That does sound like the kind of thing I’d dwell on, yes. Do you want me to talk about the patient I killed when I was a resident?”

His gaze holds mine. “Yes, but not now. Also, if I remain hard while you describe someone dying, I’m going to creep us both out.”

My gaze drifts to his lovely, sizable cock.

“I’m going back in,” I warn him. “Think about something unsexy. Calculate how much I could have invested if I hadn’t bought all those designer bags.”

He gasps again as I slide him into my mouth. “I’ve already done that calculation in Excel.”

I laugh against him, my hand rising to cup his balls then slide around his shaft.

My mouth will definitely require some help here.

“Do it hard,” he says, wrapping his hand around mine for a moment. The bossiness in his voice is sudden, sparked by hunger. He’s no longer reticent—he’s hell-bent on coming, and this burst of selfishness from him has me soaking wet. This is the real Graham, unrestrained and demanding and laid bare for me.

I give him what he asks for, my tongue laving him while I let the pressure of my mouth suck him in, farther and farther until he’s jerking his hips forward, involuntarily, hitting the back of my throat. My gag reflex triggers, and I ignore it.

“Fuck yes,” he says. “God, I just felt the back of your throat. I’m never going to recover from this.”

His thighs tense and then shake. I increase the strength of my grip, which is probably how he grips himself when he’s alone, and the thought of it has me so wet I’m now desperate.

Inexplicably, he seems to getbigger.

“Oh Christ, Keeley, I’m gonna…I want—”

I get the briefest hit of salt on my tongue and then he’s pulling out, grasping himself as he paints my chest and neck.

He’s breathing heavily, eyes barely open, just taking in the sight. “Sorry,” he says.

I laugh. “Yeah, you look really sorry.”

He grins. “Okay, yeah, I’m not. I’ve jerked off many times, picturing that.”

My head tilts and I smile. “I figured you for the type who’d want me to swallow.”

He gives a low groan. “Yeah. That too. I’ve pictured a whole lot of things. Let me clean you up.”

I climb to my feet while he goes to the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth to gently wipe up the mess he made.

“Did you really kill someone when you were a resident?” he asks.

I laugh. “I failed to revive someone. Does that count?”

“I wouldn’t have lost my erection.”

I smile. “I’d probably bring that up on occasion.”

“Publicly.”

“Not, like, into a microphone at your brother’s wedding. Maybe at lunch with your mom, though.”

He gives a quiet laugh. “About what I expected.”

My nipple tightens as he brushes over it, and his eyes flutter closed. I’m not done. I wonder if he isn’t either. I’m thoroughly clean, but he’s still sliding the washcloth over my skin. My body arches toward him against my will, but I guess I should politely extract myself and—

His hand slides between my legs. “You’re so goddamned wet. Don’t even try to tell me you’re done.”

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