But Macey wasn’t just the girl I’d grown to love, she was also my best friend’s little sister and a virgin—a combination that was completely off-limits. So why was I in her bed with my cock in my hand?
I didn’t answer her about the condom—not because I couldn’t—but because in that moment, the only thing I wanted was to watch her come. To see her beautiful features as she lost control completely.
As I leaned down to take her mouth, her greedy tongue met mine, sucking hard as she lifted her hips slightly off the bed, pressing herself into my touch. My hand slid up and down my shaft, and I knew I was going to come soon. I kissed a path down her neck to her collarbone, making my way down her body past the dip in her belly until I settled between her thighs.
Lifting the fabric of her panties to the side, I exposed her delicate pink flesh. She was beautiful. I’d always insisted that her panties stay on while we fooled around. It was my one nonnegotiable rule, a small thing to ease my guilt. Macey opened her mouth to protest until she felt my tongue lap at her clit, and then she gave a short whimper and buried her hands in my hair, tugging me closer as her head dropped back on the pillow.
I chuckled against her skin, loving the taste of her. She tasted even better than I could have imagined. And her cunt smelled so fucking good, I wanted to bury myself inside it.
My mouth was everywhere at once, all over her sweetness, lapping up the honey of her virgin *, nipping at her clit gently with my teeth, licking her in a steady rhythm over and over as I squeezed the base of my cock so I wouldn’t come . . .
? ? ?
“Reece?” she asks, drawing me back to the moment.
Fuck.
I want to ask her a million questions. How did she find me? Why is she here? What does she want?
But I’m unable to stop myself from studying her. Her skin looks so soft. I wonder if it’s still lightly perfumed with lavender and honey like I remember. I want to lean close and taste her, but I don’t. Control is everything to me now; it’s all I have. Still, I continue to study her, amazed at the beautiful woman she’s become. Long dark hair flows over her shoulders, leading to a trim waist and the gentle curve of well-rounded hips. Dressed in skinny jeans and tall boots, her shapely legs seem to go on forever.
She crosses her arms under her ample breasts, bringing attention to the fact she has a glorious rack. Dear God. Are those Ds?
“You’ve grown up,” I say, my voice strained as I fight to recover from the effect she has on me.
Noting how my eyes had briefly wandered from hers, Macey smirks. “So have you. Unless my memories are off. How tall are you these days?”
“Six-four.”
“God, it’s been a long time.” She smiles at me, but there’s a faraway sadness in her eyes I don’t like.
“Six years,” I say, even though it wasn’t a question. “Does Hale know you’re here?” It’s funny how my internal thoughts immediately go to him, almost like my subconscious is trying to remind me why I can’t do this. Besides, something tells me her older brother wouldn’t be too happy about her destination tonight. I don’t even know how she found me.
Shaking her head, Macey drops her chin toward her chest. The girl I remember was confident, carefree, and sassy. This version of her is more subdued and serious, totally unlike her.
Using two fingers, I lift her chin to meet my gaze. “Who’s done this to you?”
“What?” she asks, flushed and slightly breathless.
That reaction is to be expected, given our surroundings. Crave is Chicago’s hottest BDSM club. But her reaction to the club isn’t what I’m referring to at all.
“Who’s dimmed that light in your eyes?”
She looks away, not wanting to answer.
That’s the thing about Macey. Even from the time she was a skinny little girl, those huge blue eyes were like two pools of light that swallowed you whole, sucked you into her orbit, and made you feel alive and slightly out of control.
I can’t resist reaching out to touch her again, this time tucking a stray lock of chestnut-colored hair behind her ear. The urge to take her in my arms and hold her tightly flares inside me. And to say I’m not the cuddling type would be a huge fucking understatement. But this is Macey, and I really don’t like seeing her like this. I want to comfort her. It’s that same overwhelming feeling that came over me when her parents died. I just want to fix it.
She inhales sharply at the contact, but her gaze stays on mine. “How about a drink first?”