Page 79 of The Playboy

Her response came out as a moan.

Just the way I had known it would.

“Tell me to back away, Brooklyn.” I waited. “Say the words. I need to hear them.”

I was met with total silence.

But there was movement—her hands, they were on my waist, holding on like she was afraid someone was going to pull her away from me.

When I still got nothing, I said, “You don’t want me to back away, so does that mean you want me to reach under your dress and play with your pussy right here?” I grazed my nose over hers. “Rub your clit until you come?”

I earned myself a deeper moan.

“Or maybe you’d rather have me spread you across my front seat so I can eat your cunt.”

“Mmm.” A response that was even louder this time.

“I’ll take your moans, Brooklyn, but I’d rather have your screams.”

Her hands moved to the bottom of my shirt, and they pulled the fabric. She arched into me, her back concaving as she held our torsos together.

Oh, she fucking wanted it.

“There’s only one problem … you’re not getting any of that tonight.”

The longer I made her wait for it, the more she’d want me.

Because if she was having a hard time separating work from pleasure, then her waiting until she got home with a pussy that hadn’t been satiated, combined with the text I was going to send her in about an hour, that would be a kind of want she’d never experienced before.

Now, this wasn’t a game.

This was me proving a goddamn point.

“Macon, I—”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to send you home without a taste.” I didn’t want to hear her response—that was why I’d cut her off. I was the one in control here. Not her. “You’re going to get my lips,” I hissed against her throat, “and when you’re in bed, all alone tonight, you’re going to remember how they felt, and you’re going to wish you’d gotten more.”

I connected our stares.

I let my words hit her as the silence between us grew.

I let her take a breath.

And then I slammed our mouths together, devouring the flavor that I remembered so well, inhaling her into me.

Fuck me.

How could she be so perfect, so sweet?

How could I want her this badly and, at the same time, force myself not to carry her into my SUV?

Because I couldn’t.

If I’d learned anything over the last seven years, it was that women wanted what they couldn’t have. Which had always been me. But this evening, I’d reversed the roles between us—she was used to getting my mouth and cock, so what would happen when I took them away from her?

She’d crave them.

Desire them.

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