Dirty Games (Tropical Temptation)

Don’t stop…

Oh yeah. That’s what he’d said. His free hand tangled in her hair, his fingers sinking into the silky mass. Not to pull her away, but to guide her lower. Still clinging to his wrist, she hooked her other hand into the front of his sweats and slowly eased herself down until she knelt on the cobblestone between his parted legs.

That mouth. That mouth he couldn’t stop thinking about glided lower, and his cock strained to meet it. She raised her head. He didn’t remember abandoning his hold on her, but suddenly their fingers were tangling on the drawstring to his sweats. He shoved the shorts out of his way, or she did—he wasn’t sure who deserved the credit—but the move trapped the head of his cock in the process, dragging it down until the drawstring gave way. His dick slapped his abs with a solid thwack, and he felt a moment of pride at her quick intake of breath.

And fuck…it was his turn to suck in his breath, because she took the ice cream from him, tipped the cup and dribbled two of her favorite things all over his pride. For half a second, they both admired her handiwork, then she placed the container on the table and whispered, “Ooops.”

Every tether in his mind holding on to reasons why they couldn’t do this snapped. “Somebody better clean that up.”

She braced her hands on his thighs, lowered her head, and licked him from base to tip.

Not a prayer. He didn’t have a prayer. He’d pictured her like this too many times. Dreamed of pushing into her lush mouth and staying right there until she finished him off. Groaning his surrender, he sank both hands into her hair and held it back so he could maintain the view. “You overlooked a few spots.”

She licked him again, swirling her tongue as she went, teasing it over the very tip. “Mmm. This could take a while.” Her lips brushed his crown as she spoke.

This could take another minute, tops. “Quinn…”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to use my whole mouth.”

Despite knowing full well what she intended to do to him, watching her slick her tongue over her lips in preparation, he still nearly thrust deep when she closed her mouth around him. The ungentlemanly instinct warred with his desire to see his cock slowly slide into the haven of her tightly sealed lips.

The slow slide won out, because apparently he did still possess a modicum of impulse control—maybe only enough to keep from artlessly fucking her mouth—but at the moment, it amounted to a major act of self-restraint. He held onto it while she worked her way up and down his length in an agonizingly leisurely pace. He held on to it when she abandoned his throbbing cock with a suddenness that wrenched a curse from his throat, and angled her head until her tongue laved his balls.

He tightened his fingers in her hair. “Christ, Quinn.”

“It got everywhere,” she murmured. “I want to do a thorough job.” Planting a hand at the center of his chest, she pushed until he leaned back on his elbows, and proceeded to use a devastating combination of lips and tongue to chase down every possible drop.

He looked down the length of his body. Her hand smoothed his torso, stopping just shy of the place where his cock jutted like a sundial, and then stroked up along the same route, as if she couldn’t get enough of his clenched abs. He tightened them for her, wanting her to feel every ridge.

Her forehead teased another hard ridge, nudging the back of his shaft each time she moved her mouth—and she moved it constantly. She wasn’t ignoring a damn thing.

Her tongue took an unexpected foray, and his breath exploded from his lungs.

“Jesus. That’s pretty fucking thorough.”

She spent another few seconds showing him just how thorough she could be, and reduced him to threats, because it was threaten or beg. He sat up, speared a hand in her hair, and eased her head back until he could look at her. “If you don’t stop right now, you’re going to have another mess to clean up.”

Bold eyes stared back at him, gleaming with challenge. “What would you make a mess of, Luke?” She smoothed a hand over her cleavage. “My breasts?”

Her hand was on the move before he could answer. She ran her palm up the back of her neck, dislodged her ponytail holder, and then combed her fingers through the long, silky cascade. “My hair?”

She swept it back, tipped her chin higher, and tempted him with lowered lashes. “My face? Would you like to come on my f—?”

“You mouth.” He manhandled his cock until the head hovered close to her lips. “I would make a mess of your dirty little mouth.” It wasn’t lost on him that she hadn’t offered that option, though. A little ice cream only went so far, and it could be she didn’t consider that particular type of mess much of a treat. “But I’d give you fair warning.” He glided the tip of his cock over her lips, making them glisten.

“Who’s going to give you fair warning?”

Not her. She dipped her head and took him throat deep. Reflexes she used to swallow went to work and he lost the ability to think. Her fingernails dug into his thighs and he didn’t give a shit. She drew him in a little deeper, gave up a mere fraction of an inch, and then did it again. Down. Up. Up. Down. Bobbing her head in his lap in an unpredictable rhythm that pressed his balls against the cushion and never let him get in front of the sensations she pumped out of him.

He cupped the back of her head, allowed himself one fast, hard thrust before releasing her. “Fair warning,” he managed to say through clenched teeth.

She kept right on going.

“I mean it, Quinn. If you don’t want to take it in your mouth, you better stop.”

She stopped moving, but left him lodged deep.

Sheridan smartassery at its finest. Because he wasn’t certain she appreciated just how worked