Briggs (Carolina Reapers 7)

“Just…” I blew out a breath and pushed back from the table. I reached for his hand, needing to distract myself from what my heart was screaming at me. “Come here,” I urged.

He cocked a brow at me, slipping his hand in mine. He let me pull him across the balcony, let me push him down on the wicker couch I had tucked up against the opposite wall of the balcony. Didn’t take his gaze off of me when I grabbed a pillow from the chair that sat next to the couch and dropped it at his feet.

“What are you doing, Duchess?” he asked, eyes on the pillow.

I sank to my knees, the pillow cushioning them from the hardness of the wood-planked balcony.

“Saying thank you,” I said, my fingers frantic at his belt, then his zipper.

“You don’t have to—”

I took his length into my mouth, no teasing preamble, no gentle flicks of my tongue. Nothing about my feelings for this man, for what he’d done tonight, for what he was quickly becoming to me were soft and slow.

Everything I felt for him was charged, consuming, chaotic.

And it scared the hell out of me. I needed to…had to get back to common ground before I said something that would have me lose him forever. And that common ground was this.

Heat.

Fire.

Passion.

Pure, unstoppable need to devour the other person.

“Fuck,” he hissed as I took him in my mouth to the hilt. “Bristol,” he growled, throwing his head back against the wicker. He pumped his hips upward, thrusting with each stroke and suck I offered.

I pulled back enough that he slipped from my mouth with a little pop. “Eyes on me,” I said, fire licking the inside of my skin. God, this man. He tasted good, felt good, made me absolutely wild for him. “I want you to watch me devour you.”

“Goddamn,” he hissed as I took him back in my mouth, my fingers digging into his thighs as I bobbed up and down, relishing the feel of him between my lips.

“Mmmhmm,” I moaned while he was still in my mouth, and he growled, thrusting upward. I increased my pace, sucking and swirling my tongue over the head of his cock, his muscles tensing beneath me. I ached for him—with each growl, each hiss, each flick of my tongue, I wanted him more and more. And just when I grazed my teeth down his shaft—

“I’m going to come, Duchess,” he growled, shifting like he was trying to get out of my mouth.

I gripped his thighs and sucked him harder, dizzy with my need for this man. Breathless with the way I wanted him. The way I felt about him. The way my heart soared at the idea that I was the one who was driving him this crazy right now.

“Bristol!” He hissed, his fingers flying to my hair, gripping it as he spilled into my mouth.

I swallowed him down, licking my lips as I pulled back, eyes hazing and hooded as I looked up at him. “Goddamn,” I mimicked his earlier word.

I stood, my legs shaky with need. I moved to sit next to him, but he caught my wrist, hauling me into his lap.

“You don’t think we’re close to finished yet, do you?” His voice dripped sex and that roughness that I loved about Cormac.

“I don’t know,” I said, trailing a finger over his strong jaw. “Did you have something else in mind?”

13

Cormac

“I can think of one or two things I’d like to do to you,” I growled, pulling Bristol across my lap and settling her so that her knees rested on either side of me. A quick glance told me that no one could see us hidden away in the corner of her balcony.

“Oh really?” she asked with a flirtatious smile, but her voice had that hint of breathlessness that let me know her mind was exactly where mine was.

My body was still buzzing from the high she’d just taken me to.

“Really,” I whispered, threading my hands through her hair and pulling her mouth to mine. “I fucking love this mouth.”

Before she could comment, I kissed her with every feeling I had. Not just the lust—there was plenty of that—but the need, the craving I had for her presence, with or without the sex. I hadn’t just flown here on our only off-day after winning the first round of playoffs because I wanted to fuck her. I’d needed to see her smile in person and not on the screen of my phone with a nightly facetime.

I needed a hell of a lot more than that, if I was being honest with myself.

I needed…her.

The intensity of recognizing that need had me kissing her harder, deeper, and even though my dick had just been thoroughly relieved, it was already stirring back to life, thickening against the seam of her underwear as need raced through my veins.