She’s winning the war.
I have to step back from the ledge. Do what’s sacrilege: reject the blowjob that I know will rock my world. And make me talk. Because put a hot, wet mouth and a skillful tongue on a man’s cock and there is no controlling what he says or how tight he’ll fist your hair.
With a pained groan, I put my hand to her shoulder and push her against the wall to stop her descent. Her eyes—so fucking gorgeous beneath desire drugged lids—flash up and lock on mine. The smirk plays on her lips. Her determination to make me talk is written all over her face.
So I hold her there—with both my eyes and my hand to her shoulder—and slip my fingers back into her. I start to work her into a frenzy. With my fingers and thumb. In and out and over her clit. Slide and stroke and flick and rub. Then all over again.
All the while her gaze is on mine. Her lips part. Her hips buck harder into my hand. Her fingers dig deeper into my shoulder. Her breath becomes labored.
I pick up my pace when I feel her pussy start to tighten around me. It’s now or never. So I work the spot within I know she likes. The one that makes her lose her mind.
“Oh. God,” she pants into the room.
It’s the sound of victory. The lighter caught flame.
And I stop all movement instantly.
I stand to full height as she stares at me—shoulders sagged against the wall, eyes wildly sexy, cheeks flushed, chest heaving—and smirk. Then casually glance down to my watch before focusing on tucking my rock-hard dick back into my slacks and zipping over it. Carefully.
“You bastard,” she whispers—equal parts amusement, frustration, and disbelief.
And fuck if I don’t feel the same way when I look up at her. I work my tongue in my cheek as we stare at each other. My need for her so strong it fucking hurts. And then with a nod of my head, I walk out, and shut the door behind me without ever saying a word.
I’ve only walked away from Saylor two times before. The first time was brutal because I never came back. This second time is just as brutal, but at least I know I’m coming back.
I take a minute at the top of her stairs to wait for my dick to calm down. I pull my phone from my pocket and with my fingers still wet from her, fire off a text.
While victory may be sweet, it’s also reserved for those who are willing to pay a price.
And damn it to hell, I’m paying the price by walking away with her scent on my fingers and her taste on my lips.
Your A-Game? It’s damn good, Ships. You almost had me. But mine’s better. See I can show restraint too. Rematch in about 40 hours?
I stare at the text for the hundredth time, my body still strung taut from his touch and the smile still wide on my lips. I’m sexually frustrated but so damn content because he loves me. No man would go through this much trouble if he didn’t.
You’re a bastard.
I consider finishing myself off. Claim my orgasm he left unfinished but know half the fun is doing it with him. So instead I sit in the quiet of my room, with the paparazzi clamoring outside and the media filming downstairs. With a business proposal for a game-changing contract in the sent bin of my email, and a man I never thought I’d get back, owning my thoughts . . . and I wonder how all of a sudden this is my life.
And then he texts again.
Does it make you feel any better that I can still smell you on my fingers and it drove me crazy during that whole last interview?
No. It doesn’t make me feel better at all. My turn: Does it make you feel any better knowing I took care of what you didn’t while you were in that last interview?
But that sure as hell does.
I watch the clock. Let three minutes pass while picturing him gritting his teeth as he imagines me up here getting off without him. And then I text him again.
Just kidding. See? A-Game.
ZERO DAYS LEFT - Finally
FACEBOOK
QUESTION:
Where were you when you first knew you were in love with your soul mate?
#MovieRoleResearch #UnDeniable
I stare at the post for the longest time. Wishing I knew more about Undeniable’s movie plot to see where he’s leading his fans with the question. I’m sure it has a purpose. I just don’t know what it is.
I type several answers to the post but then delete them. Anything I post is up for public fodder, and I want to keep our relationship as private as possible.
So I read other peoples’ comments instead. Try to waste time as I wait for whatever it is I’m waiting for from Hayes. I skim my other social media accounts, check my phone, but there’s nothing written from him to me. No countdown until I get to see him. No corny pick up lines.
No anything.
Just radio silence.