“You are fucking torture, Willa Grant.” He drops the glass on the deck behind him, and it lands with a heavy thud, miraculously not breaking against the wood. And then the pads of his fingers are on my lips, tracing, touching, pressing.
I’ve served myself up on a platter to him, but he’s not diving in yet. He’s savoring. And based on the bulge in the front of his pants, he likes what he sees.
“Fucking torture.” He slips two fingers into my mouth, running them along my tongue, just to the edge of where I feel like I might gag. “A man can only take so much before he snaps.”
My lips wrap around his digits in response as my palms flatten against his jeans for balance, eyelids dropping slightly as I do. I’m feeling a little too vulnerable, a little out of my league—a little shy. But this is what I wanted.
I wanted him to snap.
“Suck, Willa. Prove to me you’re good enough for the job and maybe I’ll give you my cock.”
I moan, his words both drugging me and angering me. The challenge in what he’s said is clear, and I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.
I take it and brace against his muscular thighs, sliding my lips up and down the length of his fingers. I can almost taste the bourbon on them.
“Eyes on me, baby. Let’s see it.”
Heat crawls along my cheeks as I force myself to look up at him. His gaze is downright magnetic. He steals the breath from my lungs and takes it for himself.
His fingers tangle in my hair, stroking at my scalp while I slide my mouth up and down his fingers.
When he murmurs, “That’s my girl,” while looking me in the eye, nothing in the world has ever felt more right.
My girl.
I swirl my tongue around his fingers, and he groans, before gripping my hair and working my head the way he wants.
Setting the pace.
I give myself over to him, going soft in his hands, feeling my saliva build around my lips as I do.
“Fuck. Willa.” My name sounds so good on his lips, the way he growls it—feral and possessive.
The boards of the porch bite at my knees, even through the jeans I’m wearing. And when he pulls his fingers from my mouth with a lewd pop, the last few threads holding him together snap before my eyes. I can almost hear the pinging of them flying apart like a popped guitar string.
I smile like the goddamn Cheshire Cat.
Because above me, Cade is breathing heavily and frantically unbuckling his belt. Fumbling with his button. Ripping at his zipper. And when his thick cock tents the fabric of his boxer briefs, my hands free it.
Right in the open, on his front deck.
He pulls his shirt off one-handed, and all at once, I’m licking my lips and running my palms over smooth, hot skin. Almost reveling in it. Sighing at the feel.
“Fuck, Red. You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” His hand is back to combing my hair, and I can feel my wet saliva on his fingers as his opposite hand traces the bottom line of my jaw.
I swallow audibly and lick the bead of pre-cum glistening on the head of Cade’s cock. Cade’s massive cock. My eyes shimmer with anticipation. Like Christmas morning. Like I’m going to get to play with a whole new toy. “Yes.” I press a kiss to the tip. “But only for you.”
His head tips back on a groan, exposing his throat and all the dark stubble over his Adam’s apple. I think he needed to hear that, and I didn’t even realize it was true until the words left my mouth. His hands are still on my head, holding my skull reverently, as I wrap my lips around him for the first time. Smooth skin, soft musk, fingers tangled.
It’s sensory overload as I slide my mouth down his length, tortuously slow, breathing through my nose and taking him as far back as I can.
When I think I can’t go any further, I swallow and take just a little bit more.
“Jesus, Willa.” I smile at the breathless state of his voice. Cade Eaton is about to learn that the trick to a good blow job is enjoying giving them. And I love it.
I don’t care if I’m the one on my knees while he towers above me. The power is mine right now. The power to make him fall apart is mine. And I’m drunk with it.
My tongue swirls as I bob slowly, one hand twisting at the base of him while the other slips back to cup his balls, fingers working in tandem while my lips suction hard.
I moan on his cock, and his grip tightens in my hair. “Careful, baby. It’s been too long, and you feel too good. I’m trying to make this last.” His barely restrained voice husks with a light tremor.
I love the sound of it. It urges me on. If he thinks this is a one-time thing, he’s confused. I’m realizing his ex did a bigger number on him than I first imagined. I wonder as I take him further back into my throat if he’s a lot more insecure than he lets on.