“You taste as good as you fucking look,” he growls, his voice vibrating against me. He slides his hands under my thighs, using his fingers to spread me open. His tongue finds me again—hot and slippery—swirling over my most sensitive spot. His mouth works me, slow and methodical, like he’s punishing me and worshiping me at the same time.
My hips lift to meet his mouth, and I reach down to grab his hair, whimpering. I want more of whatever this is. My fingers tighten, pulling him closer, needing to feel more of his mouth between my legs.
“Bossy little thing,” he chuckles against me. He seals his mouth over me, fingers holding me open, tongue flicking just right. The sounds spilling past my lips are messy and desperate—and way too loud for a house full of an NHL team whose captain is my damn brother.
My legs shake, my body’s convulsing. I’m so close. One more stroke…
And then he pulls away.
I whimper, a broken noise slipping from my throat, hips grinding up into nothing.
“Jace, please,” I gasp.
He licks his lips, his chin wet, and gives me that look—that infuriating, cocky, I-own-you look that makes my body ache.
“You don’t come on my tongue, baby,” he says. “Not the first time.”
I blink, dazed, as he leans up, crawling over me again, his mouth brushing mine.
I moan, frustration clear in my voice.
“Pouting because I didn’t let you fall apart yet?” he teases.
“Screw you,” I snap, breathless. “There won’t be a next time anyway.”
“No next time, huh?” he murmurs, a small chuckle slipping out.
I nod, defiant.
He dips down, lips grazing my jaw.
“How do you get this wet,” he murmurs, “and still lie to me like that?”
I open my mouth to sass him again, but the second he brushes my clit with his hand, I whimper instead.
“Ass,” I breathe.
“Brat,” he says, pressing two fingers to my clit, rubbing slow circles. I gasp, my moans shaky, my back arching off the bed.
“You feel that, baby?” he whispers. “That’s just my fingers. Imagine what my cock will do to you.”
My pussy squeezes around nothing, my eyes fluttering shut. I grind my hips against his hand, and he lets me.
“Oh, you like that? You like thinking about my cock inside you?”
He starts to work my clit faster, making that familiar tension coil low in my belly. I’m close again. I bite my lip to keep the moans in, but it’s useless. My body’s already ready to fall apart under him.
“You gonna come?” he whispers.
I nod, frantic, on the edge—
And then he pulls his hand away.
I let out an actual sob of frustration, my body trembling.
“Jace, please!”
“You beg so pretty for me.” He tilts his head, his breath ragged. “Should I make you come?”
