Ensnared (Brutes of Bristlebrook, #1)(58)

His palm comes down hard on the curve of my ass, and I gasp against the sting. It’s chased by a low, throbbing ache that reminds me I’m still a little bruised from last night.

“Stop thinking, sweetness. It’s your turn to ask a question.” Then his voice turns sly. “If you can hold up that long.”

His fingers return to my panties, only this time he parts my wet folds with his long, clever fingers, sliding up and down but somehow missing my clit on each stroke. My arm wobbles underneath me, and I arch into his hand, but every motion to bring him closer to where I want him has him pulling back teasingly. A frustrated whimper escapes my throat.

My mind is utterly blank of questions, and I know I have to end this soon if I want to win. Why does winning suddenly matter so much to me? I’ve never won anything before.

His fingers circle tortuously around my clit again, not quite touching.

Biting my lip, I yank at the ties on his pants, loosening them enough that I can pull them down slightly, exposing his hard length. I can’t help my pleased gasp. He isn’t as thick as Jaykob, but he’s big enough that I know I’ll have trouble with him.

Lucky lets out a smug, happy sound that tugs a return smile back to my own lips.

Wrapping my hand around the base of his cock, I give it a tentative stroke, then another, more confident. In reward, he finally slides that teasing finger against my clit.

“Oh!” I cry out, a shudder racking my body. My legs wobble, and he kisses the back of my knee again, scraping his teeth against my skin as he increases pressure against my clit. Then his fingers part and press inside me, disturbing my clumsy rhythm on the scorching, velvet length in my palm. I’m adrift, whirling. I can hear the obscene, wet smack of his pumping fingers. I clench around him greedily, needing more.

“Fuck,” he swears on a groan, “you’re soaked.”

I suck back a sob and realize I have to up the ante fast before my legs give out. Before I can think about it, I remove my hand from his cock and flatten my hand on his tight stomach for balance. Then I lift onto my tiptoes and angle myself over him.

My lips brush over the glistening, florid tip of him, then part, sending warm breath down his length. He makes a surprised sound, and his fingers hesitate inside of me. I clamp around them again as I slide his swollen, needy cock inside my mouth, swirling my tongue around him.

He only just catches me by the hair to steady me as he collapses. His back hits the mat, and I fall with him, the sudden movement burying him deep in my throat.

I lift my head in shock, licking him as I go, then beam at him. “I won!”

Lucky snorts a laugh, then his fingers tighten in my hair. “Sure did. Congrats. Very proud.” His voice is raw and throaty.

“Now have mercy on me and put that sexy as fuck mouth back on my dick.”

My nipples tighten in my bra at the desperate request, and I obey, ridiculously thrilled. I realize I’m still mostly dressed, but it really doesn’t matter right now. As soon as my lips close around him, he moans helplessly, his hips rolling like he can’t help himself.

That’s it, it’s official: I’m a sex goddess.

He wraps his other arm around my waist and tugs me backwards. I pause; I’m kneeling over his face.

“Don’t stop on me now, beautiful.” It’s a plea, not an order, and suddenly I’m powerful—in control of giving or taking away his pleasure. And, with a desperate, warm ache, I realize I want to make him happy. I want to drive him wild.

“God damn. It’s been . . . so long,” he groans.

I let my mouth slide over him wetly, before tightening my lips for a firmer stroke. I quickly realize I can’t suck to his base without the wide head of him hitting my gag reflex so I wrap my hand around him again to make up the extra length.

He lets me work him over for a minute, testing different rhythms until he shudders encouragingly. Then he pulls my panties aside again and yanks me down onto his face, parting his open mouth right over my heat and sliding his tongue around my clit in a firm stroke.

I cry out around his cock, and he chuckles against me, those wicked lips as delicious as I imagined. More delicious, even.

It’s different to Jaykob’s wild, messy hunger. Lucky savors me like I’m made of candy, with teasing, naughty tastes. We find a rhythm together and as his fingers join his mouth, rubbing and fucking my tight, wet hole, a now-familiar tension begins to crest in my center. I shiver and squirm over him, my mouth growing wetter and sloppier and more frantic.

A part of me is appalled by the mess I’m making, another part is worried I might suffocate him like this, but the needy side of me—fueled by the lost, wild noises Lucky is making—tells them to shut the hell up. My rhythm is fast and frantic and his hand wraps over mine, steadying me, tightening as he pumps my hand along his length to my mouth. The tangy, delicious taste of him coats my tongue, and his smell fills my nose.

I pull back slightly. “Lucky,” I beg, breathless.

“Hmm?” His tongue circles me, and I shudder.

Words are hazy, hard to find. “Lucky, please. I need you to fuck me.” In this moment, the wicked word fits in my mouth. In this moment, my mouth is filthy, my mind debauched, my body lost to carnal, wanton sin. This moment is for cocks and cunts and tongues and obscene orgasms. “I need— I want you to—”

His tongue falters on me, and my body wants to scream.