Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)

The door opened, and Austin stepped backward over the threshold, distracted by Polly’s aroused nipples, silently begging for one to make its way free of that polka-dot number. When his mental pleas yielded no results, he twisted his fingers in her dress and tugged down, giving him a peek of red as they moved into the house. When his back met the far wall, a flash of clarity told him they were in a dark, homey living room that smelled faintly of syrup, but then Polly went up on tiptoes and merged their mouths, slicing his consciousness in half with a hot, sensual knife. His instinct was to spin her around and fuck her into a screaming fit against the wall, but he tamped down the urge, sensing her desire to make the first move. And Lord, was he ever rewarded, when her left hand skated down his stomach to fist his cock through the black trousers.

“Ah, God,” he groaned, thrusting his hips forward. “It’s always fucking hard now. It feels different in my underwear, rubbing and rubbing and needing to be adjusted.” She gave him a tight stroke, and he slammed his head back against the wall. “You have me on a goddamn leash, Polly. What are you going to do with me?”

Using the hand that wasn’t currently working his cock into a state of fuck-or-die, Polly traced his bottom lip with her thumb before pushing up and kissing him slow. So slow, descending his thoughts into sexual chaos. If her jackhammering pulse weren’t audible, he would have thought she was toying with him. Making him yearn and pine with no end in sight. She could do it, too, if she chose. Only Polly.

She released his mouth, but he refused to open his eyes. Couldn’t. In this exposed state, her beauty would rip him open like a knife through a feather pillow. “What the hell are you doing to me, Polly?”

Their heartbeats thundered in the passing silence. “Is this you, Austin?” He felt Polly’s finger slip beneath the hairpiece’s edges, sliding it from his head. Another crumbled brick from his wall. The glasses came next, dropped to the floor with a fragmented clatter.

If the world ended just then, he would have battled the heavens to the death for another minute in that stupid, syrupy house, with Polly. Nothing made sense but her hand working his cock and her sultry voice breaching the dimness. Unable to resist the call of her beauty, Austin cracked his eyes open and fell into an instantaneous trance. Their noses were almost touching, her breath warming his lips. Destruction. He was destroyed and…made real underneath her heavy-lidded gaze.

“There you are,” she whispered.

Every brick in his wall disintegrated. An urgency to show her more, everything, thickened his blood. He reached for the priest collar and yanked it off, baring his teeth when she licked the swath of throat he uncovered. “That’s right. Here I am, you goddamn siren.” He rolled his forehead back and forth against hers, groaning when her grip tightened on his dick. “Come and get me.”

“Yes.” Her breath released on a sob, pushing up her tits, almost enough to spill completely from the dress. She used her teeth to spring open a button of his shirt. “Why did you come?”

It took him a second to stop staring at her mouth. “I needed to be here in case you got damp inside your panties, so you could ride me and make it all better. I’d drive across the country to feel you bucking on top of me. Making those adorable mewling noises as you slide up and down my cock. Or grind on my tongue. Whatever it took to make sure you get wet for what I’ve got every fucking time. Nothing else can or will do when it comes to satisfying my hot little mistress.” Fuck. His willpower waned, just saying the title out loud. Austin ran a finger over her cleavage and yanked the dress down, allowing her braless tits to pop out, pretty handfuls for him to please. “You’ve been taunting me with these on purpose. Do you need them sucked, sweet? Maybe you’d like to slide me between them…?” He tilted his hips forward. “…that cock you can’t keep your hands off of, hmm?”

Polly appeared flustered in her desire, eyes gone wide as saucers. As if she couldn’t rule him with a single command. “Both. I want both.”

In one fell swoop. Austin hooked an arm around Polly’s waist and snatched her off the ground. He fell on her with long, greedy sucks of her tits, head going light at the taste of her, the fresh smell of lemonade. Not having her hand on his throbbing package anymore caused him physical pain, but she must have sensed it because her thighs locked around his waist, granting him mind-bending friction from her *. Yes, yes, yes.

Austin took a delicious pull of her nipple and let it go with a pop. “You understand how it works yet? You tell me what your body needs, and I make it happen.” Hands dropping to her ass, he dragged the juncture of her thighs up and down his distended length, knowing she was seeing stars every time her clit met his fly. “Beat off in front of me, Austin. Fuck me hard and loud enough that my neighbors can hear your balls slapping me, Austin. Let me ride you until I’ve come three times. Yes to all of it, Polly. I’m starving.”

“I want…” She was dragging in breaths, shoulders shaking, but he would give her no quarter. Giving her everything she needed meant pushing her when necessary. She’d taken control with the silk rope at their hotel room, but this was different. So much more had been revealed.

He swiped his tongue across her bottom lip. “You want what?”

“I need your mouth between my legs, please.”

His grip turned punishing on her ass, a product of the heat she’d unleashed by saying she needed him. But it was also a chastisement. “You don’t say please to me. I don’t accept requests.”