The next thing I knew, he’d plunged his tongue deep inside my folds. Holy fuck. I threw my head back. The sensation was fucking mind-blowing. My skin was lava hot as he stroked me deeper and deeper with his tongue, taking my clit and circling it like a windmill. I groaned, the air disappearing from my lungs.
“You taste delicious, dollface.”
I groaned again—my legs like jelly, my heart rate to oblivion. I looked down, but I wasn’t dreaming. Barrett was between my legs, fucking me with his delicious tongue.
“I’ve wanted to fuck you with my tongue for too long,” he said, and his dirty words tipped me to the edge.
I shoved his head back between my thighs. I felt him smirk against me, then dip his tongue into my slit. This time he fucked me hard, his tongue darting in and out, then his fingers dipped into me. One, then two, then… holy shit.
Before I could comprehend what was happening, my body coiled and tossed. I squeezed his head into me, absorbing everything he had. I shut my eyes, going to la-la land.
Breathing hard, I tried to refill the air lost in my lungs and regain any semblance of a normal breath. Any harder, and the concierge doctor might have to pay a visit.
He got up, sliding my satin shorts back up my thighs as he did. Standing in front of me, his lips glistened. I was on his lips, and it was the hottest thing I'd ever seen. I reached for his belt, but he put his hand out, stopping me. “Let me return the favor.”
Staring down at the tent in his pants, I rolled my lips inward.
“As much as I want those bow lips on my cock, I think we’ve crossed the line enough tonight, don’t you?”
I pouted. There wasn’t anything more I wanted right now than to take him. To find out if the rumors about his appendage amongst the socialites were true. To pleasure him the way he just blew my mind.
“What’s a bit more going to hurt?”
His eyes flashed with something incomprehensible, and he pushed my hand away.
“No, Lourde.” His voice boomed.
I blinked, fighting the tears that nearly pricked at my eyes.
Did he regret this?Of course, he did. He hadn’t even kissed me, and now I couldn’t touch him?
I removed my hand from his belt buckle and glared at him. He glared back. The standoff was going nowhere. He wasn’t letting me touch him. Too weak to argue, I steamrolled back upstairs to my room. I heard him groan and hiss, but I didn’t care. It was too late for apologies.
* * *
The morning broke after an amazing sleep, but the clear sky and blistering heat did little to make sense of the night before.
Breakfast sucked. My fruit was bland, lacking any sweetness.
He returned from a run, ate his prepared breakfast, and was on the phone pretty much the entire time. I was so confused. What was this? And why did I want him to do bad things to me when he was the biggest jerkface of all? He didn’t want anyone to touch me. But why?
I hit the plate in the sink louder than normal, just for effect.
“Bad night?”
Finally, he speaks.
“No, not at all.” Two could play this game. Although I wasn’t entirely sure what game it was we were playing.
“Sorry about last night.”
I turned around.
“Which part?” Just to be sure, I asked.
He tilted his head as his gaze dropped to my waist.
“Oh, right.” A blush heated my neck, wrapping its way around my shoulders.
“It won’t happen again.”
What? Why not?
He smirked. “It can’t happen again, Lourde.” His smirk resolved into a thin line.
But before I could think of anything to say, he got up, grabbed his phone, and walked out. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said, shutting the front door and leaving me in the hallway, angry as hell.