Текст книги "Dangerously Broken"

Автор книги: Eden Bradley

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It had been a wonderful night—her first real foray into the BDSM scene, other than what she now knew was called “bedroom play.” She’d let a few guys tie her to their beds, had let one guy spank her. She’d asked a lot of them to pinch her, to bite her. But being with someone who actually knew what they were doing—and in that amazing environment—had been incredible. Like every dark fantasy she’d ever had come true. Well, almost. Because Jamie Stewart-Greer, who’d starred in nearly every fantasy that had ever tumbled through her head, hadn’t been a part of the real-life scenario. Other than that wide-eyed look he’d given her. Had he really been that surprised to see her there?

“Good thing I’ve sworn off him,” she murmured to Madame, or maybe to herself. “He’s always underestimated me.”

She’d chased Jamie most of her life, but finally about a year ago she’d come to her senses after yet another breakup with a guy who was nice and smart and seemed to really care about her, but . . . he wasn’t Jamie. She’d decided right then that she had to find a way to let go of her juvenile obsession with him or she’d spend the rest of her life alone. And the fact was, she’d had to start figuring out who she was besides Brandon’s little sister, the girl whose brother had died. The one who wanted what she couldn’t have.

“Enough is enough,” she told the cat, who looked surprised at the emphasis in her tone. “I mean, if he doesn’t want me it’s stupid to keep chasing after him. I’ve never had to chase any other man. Ever.” Madame turned and sauntered into the garden. “I’m not chasing you, either,” Summer muttered.

She blew on her coffee to cool it down. So what if she’d practically had to re-create the way she thought about men and sex and herself to get Jamie out of her head? She’d done it. And life was good. She had a great job, great friends. There was her darling Dennie, who she’d known since kindergarten—a girl couldn’t ask for a better best friend. Allie was back in town and they were closer than ever. And since Allie had taken her to get her tattoo a few months ago, she’d become friends with Rosie, the artist at Midnight Ink who’d done the beautiful phoenix in red and orange and gold—the color of flames—that now covered the left side of her ribs. An appropriate symbol for the changes she’d gone through.

That had been the beginning of the discussion about getting into the kink scene. Rosie had revealed her involvement easily enough, and it hadn’t taken Summer long to put two and two together. When she’d asked Allie if she was involved in kink her friend had admitted it to her and agreed to help her learn what real BDSM was about. Allie and Rosie had both helped her, giving her reading to do, answering questions, taking her to BDSM 101 classes, and eventually taking her to a munch—an event where kinky folk met and talked. And now, finally, her first play party.

Her body was still a little sore, and her bottom carried bruises from her play. She’d experienced what might have been a little subdrop on Saturday morning, but a workout at the gym followed by a hot shower and lunch with Rosie had cured that. Now she simply felt good. Amazing, really. Except for her agonizing obsession with the ridiculously sexy Jamie, brought back to life when their eyes met. While she’d been getting her first real kink play ever. She’d been enjoying herself, loving it. But then she saw Jamie watching her and every sensation she felt the rest of the night had been magnified times ten. Times a hundred. She’d been electrified by nothing more than knowing he’d seen her.

Calm. The fuck. Down.

She sipped her coffee carefully, testing the temperature, enjoying the acrid flavor on her tongue. She felt more alive since the other night. More acutely aware of the world around her, every sight and flavor, every texture and scent. More aware even of her own body.

She’d watched herself getting off in the mirror over her dresser the other night, imagining it was Jamie who saw her. And it wasn’t only Jamie. She imagined Renee watching her, too—Renee watching Jamie watching her. It wasn’t that she wanted to sleep with the beautiful Domme who Allie and Rosie had referred her to for her first play. She felt some stirrings of attraction to Maîtresse Renee, but she wasn’t as sexually attracted to women as she was to men. It was more the kink play itself. Giving in to the taboo, giving in to the fantasies she’d had in her head for years. The whole new fetish she may have discovered knowing Jamie had been watching.

She let out a small sigh, suppressed it with a sip of her coffee. Jamie was nothing more than fantasy, one she’d come to realize was best left where it had always been, where he had always been—in her imagination. Him being at the club didn’t change that.

Liar.

She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back until she felt the morning sun on her face, on the rise of her breasts that curved against the pale pink silk of her short nightie.

God, if only it could be him, just once.

Her body heated all over from more than the gentle sun—it was imagining Jamie spanking her, pulling her hair, as Maîtresse Renee had the other night. His arm coming around her throat and tightening . . .

A soft moan escaped her.

“Hey, Summer Grace.”

“Jesus!”

She jumped, her coffee splashing onto the brick walkway as she whirled, her face going hot when she found Jamie in all his six-foot-something glory behind her. Damn, but he looked good in his low-slung jeans and the white wifebeater that showed off the leanly cut muscles in his arms, the breadth of his shoulders. The small, curved bar piercing his eyebrow caught the sunlight, giving his beautiful face, which had always looked a little sweet to her, a hint of the bad boy beneath. The piercing and the scruff on his chin, his jaw. No man should look this good at nine o’clock on a Sunday morning.

“Sorry to startle you,” he said, his tone low, the lopsided grin on his generous mouth letting her know he wasn’t sorry in the least.

“You don’t just sneak up on a person like that, Jamie,” she fumed, not sure whether she was more pissed off at being taken by surprise or that her nipples were going hard at the sight of him. She tried to cross her arms over her chest, but couldn’t figure it out with the mug still in her hand and had to give up. What she wanted to do was flail. Jamie at the club. Jamie here.

Keep your cool.

“Really? he asked. “Like you did to me, oh, a few dozen times?”

She sighed and shoved her hair from her face. “Yeah, okay. But at least I had being young and stupid as an excuse. What’s yours?”

He paused, searching her face, his brows drawing together over green eyes that looked as if they were sprinkled with gold in the sunlight. Still the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. Still the hardest-cut jawline and most perfectly molded chin. Still the most adorable dimples when he smiled—if “adorable” was a word one could use for the hottest man on the planet. The hottest Dominant man. A fact that was making her crazy even though she should know better.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged, but his gaze on hers went dark and stormy, letting her know the casual attitude was a sham.

“I just wanted to see you.”

She studied his face, and his green gaze settled on hers. And she was consumed for several long moments, just like at the club. Desire. Confusion. Anxiety.

Desire.

No.

“You ‘just wanted to see me.’ Out of the blue? After seeing me at The Bastille, it’s out of the blue?”

“No, not out of the blue. I’d like to say so, but the truth is I’ve wanted to come talk to you since I saw you Friday night.”

She waved a dismissive hand, pretending to be unaffected by the idea of him watching her even as everything in her contracted with razor-sharp arousal. “If you came here to give me one of your lectures, you can save it. I’m a consenting adult and I know exactly what I’m doing.”

He took a step closer and she hated that her pulse went thready.

“I didn’t come here to lecture you. How could I? I was there, too, and I may be a lot of things, but I’m no hypocrite.” He paused, and she saw his throat working as he swallowed hard. “I also saw Allie and we talked, so I know how you came to be there, and I understand she’d have warned you I’d probably show up at some point.”

She nodded warily. Jamie wasn’t going to lecture her? That was a first. “She did. She informed me of all the risks I’d be taking. Nice place, The Bastille. Nice and roomy. Surely there’s enough space for both of us there. If it makes you too uncomfortable, I’ll schedule around you and go when you don’t plan to be there.”

He took another step toward her and her hand tightened around the ceramic mug, her pulse sputtering.

“Why would you want to go and do that, Summer Grace? It may seem like I don’t appreciate how much you’ve grown—that you’ve grown up. It may seem—and granted, you’d probably be right—that I’ve mostly treated you like a child. But—”

“You think?”

He cracked a grin then, his dimples flashing again. “I know. And I’m sorry. It’s time I stopped. Hell, it’s time I stopped denying what you seem to have known about us since you were just a kid.”

She blinked hard. “About us?”

“I think you know what I mean.”

She thought she did, too—she simply couldn’t believe it. “And this realization about us hit you on Friday night?” Her stomach knotted and a small rage burned through her. “Friday night, when I was naked at The Bastille and getting spanked? That’s when the stars aligned and you had this epiphany about wanting to play with me, or wanting to have sex with me? Seriously, Jamie?”

He had the grace to look surprised. “What? No, it’s not like that. Is that what you think of me?”

His tone was laced with that trace of Scottish accent that only came out when he was worked up about something, or sometimes when he’d had a few beers. He’d been in the U.S. since he was seven years old, and the accent was mostly long-buried. Something deeper was going on with him.

“No. No. I just . . . What is it then, Jamie? What are you trying to say?”

There was a long pause while his features relaxed. “Maybe it’s that I’ve woken up, and about time, too. All these years I’ve turned away from you, from what I’ve wanted, and now I’m not sure I even know why.”

“Because you’re so damn noble?” she teased, still half mad but unable to restrain her desire to make him smile. “The White Knight of New Orleans, saving fair maidens from having to make their own decisions.”

The dimples were back. “Yeah. I deserved that.” His tone softened. “I don’t want to turn away anymore. I want you, Summer Grace.”

“Jamie . . .”

She turned her back to him and took a few steps down the brick path, emotion roiling inside her. She’d been mad when she spit out the words, but he had just seen her naked. He had just found out about her desire for kink. And now he’d shown up in her garden on a Sunday morning telling her, after all these years, that he wanted her.

He wanted her.

How long had she been waiting to hear those words? How many times had he laughed her off or turned her down when she came on to him, denying the chemistry she knew was between them? Too damn many.

She whirled around, ready to give him a good scolding for being a superficial prick and send him on his way for a change, but as her body turned she collided with him. His arms went around her, yanking her in tight.

“Jamie? What the—”

He cut her off by crushing her mouth to his and she melted into him, her head bent back as he leaned over her, his hot, wet tongue parting her lips with a silent demand. And oh God, he tasted good. Like coffee and warm flesh and sex. His arms tightened until she could barely breathe, but it only made her go wet, her legs shaking. It was Jamie kissing her like this, with a hunger and a heat that went through her like a shot of pure desire.

When he paused they were both breathing hard. He hadn’t let her go. She couldn’t make herself open her eyes, afraid it would stop. Afraid he’d kiss her again. Afraid he wouldn’t.

No. Oh God, yes . . .

“Jamie,” she whispered, not sure if she was going to argue or ask for more.

He didn’t give her a chance to make up her mind. He buried his fingers in her hair until they were close to her scalp and pulled, exactly the right way. His mouth came down on hers once more, bruising her lips. She loved it. She loved . . .

No!

She dropped the mug on the brick path with a crash and pushed hard on his shoulders, pulling her mouth from his.

“Damn it, Jamie! Don’t do this to me. You’ve never wanted me before and now . . . Goddamn it, I liked that mug,” she sputtered.

“Shh. Come here, Summer Grace,” he said softly, his grip on her waist like iron as he moved her away from the shards but didn’t let her go. His hold on her was so hard. So commanding. “I’ve wanted you for years. You know how much. You always have.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her neck, paused to bite just hard enough to pinch the skin between his teeth, then kissed the tender spot again.

Her head was spinning, her body melting. But she was furious, too.

“I’m not that kid anymore.”

He laughed softly. “Oh, I can see that. I can feel it.”

She tried to struggle in his grasp, but he took both her hands in one of his and held on tight, pressing their hands to his chest, the other arm still like a vise around her waist.

“Damn it, Jamie. You can’t do this—just march into my quiet Sunday morning like you think you have the right. Like you can simply take what you want after telling me to run along.”

He pulled back to look into her eyes. “Tell me you don’t want this, Summer Grace,” he demanded, his tone a low growl. “Tell me you don’t feel the same and I’ll go.”

“No.”

“No, what? No, you don’t want me here, kissing you, touching you?” He lowered his voice until it was a purr filled with heat and gravel. “Or no, don’t stop?”

She shook her head, her mind and body at war. “I don’t fucking know!”

He was quiet a moment, his gaze hard on hers. “Then answer this question: Are you all right? Are you still in subspace from Friday night? Subdrop? Did seeing me there fuck with your head space?”

“What? No, I’m fine,” she lied.

“Swear it to me.”

“I am fucking fine, Jamie. I was perfect until you arrived.” She tried to pull her hands away but he only tightened his grip.

“Do you want me to stop? Because you’ve been at the club and apparently mentored by Allie and Rosie, so you understand how this works. You know damn well I need consent, even with you. Hell, maybe even more because it’s you. I should have fucking had it before I kissed you.”

“Still the white knight?” she asked.

“Yeah. Still am. To a point.” He lowered his head until his lush lips were inches from hers. Until she could feel his warm breath on her skin. “But I need to touch you so badly that if you don’t tell me to go right now, the white knight act is gonna disappear in a hurry, and I will be all over you like an animal, Summer Grace. So what’s it gonna be? Yes? Or no?”

Her sex was wet with wanting—a wanting she couldn’t remember ever being without, but multiplied by a hundred with him so near. His lean, muscular body was pressed tight against hers, and she could feel the length of his hard-on against her thigh. She needed to feel it inside her so badly she was shaking. It pissed her off to know he could feel her trembling in his hands. That he could still do this to her after everything she’d done to get over him. But how could she say no to the man who had been her fantasy forever?

She was mad.

She was more turned on than she’d ever been in her life.

“No,” she said through clenched teeth.

His frown was fierce. “No?”

“No. Don’t you dare leave now, Jamie.”

CHAPTER

Two

SUMMER WENT HOT and loose all over as she watched the change come over his face, his eyes glinting a hard, glassy green, almost as if they were lit from within. There was fire there. And stark command. And Jesus, it was Jamie looking at her like he was going to eat her alive.

He kissed her again, and it was all hunger and need and hurting, he kissed her so damn hard. It was everything she’d ever needed. Her body surged against his, everything just out of control. She couldn’t think. It was as if he’d shocked her senseless, and all she knew was his hot tongue in her mouth, the flavor of him, the scents of something dark—sandalwood or patchouli mixed with a little motor oil—and all of it so deliciously male she never wanted to stop breathing him in. She was soaking wet simply from kissing him, from feeling the authority in the way he held her.

You are in big trouble.

She didn’t care.

“Your bedroom,” he muttered from between clenched teeth.

Somehow she stumbled into the house. He was right behind her, holding her wrist hard at the small of her back, his body tight against hers, kissing and biting her shoulder as they moved into the bedroom. He whirled her body in his arms, everything happening so fast she had no time to think. He stripped her nightie off and it fell around her feet, leaving her naked. Then he took a step back and tore his shirt over his head.

“Oh . . .” It came out on a sigh of pure, burning desire.

His body was amazing. Broad shoulders, muscular chest. The washboard abs, the narrow waist. Even his tattoo was sexy—she’d always found tattoos sexy—the words memento mortalitatem tuam, Latin for “remember your mortality,” she knew, tattooed in a line down his ribs on his right side in bold calligraphic script. And oh, God, when had he gotten his nipples pierced? The two small, steel rings made her want to curl her tongue around them.

Her gaze flicked up to his, then down again as she heard him unbutton his jeans, the quiet snick of the zipper coming down. The fact that he wore nothing underneath made her sex clench. But he kept the damn jeans on, the solid ridge of his hard cock hidden beneath the worn denim, tempting her. She could hardly stand it.

She licked her lips. “Jamie—”

“Shh, Summer Grace. I need you to be quiet now, sugar. No discussion. Because now isn’t the time to negotiate and I am going to have to rein myself in to keep things under control.”

“Don’t, Jamie. We don’t need control.”

He stepped forward and slid his hand around her neck. She gasped in pleasure, felt his fingers flex in response.

“Yes, we damn well do, sweetheart. No arguments. Just fucking kiss me, girl.”

She sighed through the slight constriction of her throat, loving the way he held her at that edge as she tilted her chin and his mouth closed over hers. She opened to his searching tongue, losing herself in the sweetness of his mouth. In his utter command.

When he pulled away, she was panting.

“Right now you are mine,” he whispered against her cheek, his hand still on her throat, his breath warm on her skin.

“Yes,” she murmured.

Her body already belonged to him. She couldn’t think of anything else at that moment but the desire—the need—coursing through her flesh, taking her over. He was taking her over. If he didn’t really touch her she was going to explode.

With his hand wrapped around her neck, using only the slightest pressure, he backed her up step by step until she felt the mattress behind her legs.

“Down you go, now,” he said, his tone quiet. He was so damn commanding he didn’t need to use a harsh tone, a raised voice. She’d imagined a thousand times what being with him would be like—and, as she’d gotten older and discovered her desire for kink, what being dominated by him would be like. But never had she imagined it being this good. This natural.

He exerted the tiniest bit of pressure, guiding her to sit on the bed, her damp thighs hitting the cool sheets.

He leaned over her, clamping his hand a bit tighter. “This time, Summer Grace,” he told her, “it’s just gonna be you and me and the tiniest edge of kink. Because I fucking need you right now. Do you understand? Later, if you want to, we can do full negotiations. But I have to admit I am in no shape to do that. And judging by your eyes, your breath, your silence, by how beautifully hard your nipples are, neither are you, sweetheart. So tell me again. Is this still a ‘yes’?”

“Oh yes,” she breathed, the words whispering on a long sigh. There was no other possible answer.

He smiled, his dimples making small, charming divots in his cheeks, and she had a flash of Jamie at sixteen. That was when she’d first fallen for him. It had only taken fourteen years to get to this point. Fourteen years and her decision to finally end her pursuit of him. But he was right in front of her and she was naked and he was touching her—had kissed her! The kissing was a revelation in itself, the flavor of him still warm on her tongue. The answer had to be yes.

He kept his gaze on hers as he slid his hand down and his fingers bore down on the tender pressure points just below her collarbone, hurting her the tiniest bit. Letting her know his power, that he understood very thoroughly how to cause pain with the simplest touch. Then he moved a bit lower, between her breasts, pressed down, making a small hurting spot deep in her flesh. She sighed into the pain, needing to be touched. Needing to feel that little bit of pain. Needing Jamie. As if he heard her need, he gathered both breasts in his hands, kneading gently, his thumbs teasing her nipples, and pleasure arced into her like an electric current. He pinched one nipple and she gasped.

“Oh!”

“You like that, do you, sugar? Oh yeah, I can tell you do. No, no. Hold still for me.”

He pinched again and she had to bite her lip not to move. It felt so good.

“I can see how hard you’re trying. Good girl. Now try harder.”

He pinched her again, both nipples this time, and she cried out.

“Ah, God!”

“Still,” he ordered.

To her surprise he leaned down and pressed his lips in that space between her breasts where he’d dug into the pressure point there. She let her head fall back with a sigh of pure pleasure. The contrast of sensations was making her head spin. He was making her head spin. That little bit of mind-fuck and the fact that it was Jamie. That fact was mind-fuck in itself.

“Oh yes . . .”

She arched into him, and he pulled away. He stood there simply staring at her, watching her, exploring her body with his eyes—eyes heated with lust, glittering in the soft morning light. And all the while her body heated even more, her system going into overdrive, flooding with desire, a hard-edged need unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

He placed one knee next to her bare thigh on the bed and even the touch of denim on her skin was enough to send a new surge of lust through her.

“Jamie, please . . .”

“Please what, sugar?”

“Do . . . something . . .”

He grinned, the dimples flashing again. “Oh, I plan to. I’m just taking my time to soak you in, girl. And to calm the hell down so I do right by you.” He reached out and traced his fingertip slowly over her throat, then down her side, over her ribs. “I love the ink on you, by the way. Beautiful. And so damn hot.” His finger feathered over her skin, leaving tiny firelights of pleasure in its wake, a small trail of sensation.

Between her thighs was an insistent pulse-beat of wanting. She waited, doing everything she could to hold still and take it, knowing that was what he wanted. Fucking torture for a control freak like her, but especially because it was him touching her. She couldn’t find it within herself to speak.

He used two fingers on her breastbone to push her back onto the bed. With the other hand, he spread her legs wide, so wide she knew she was completely open to him. But she wanted him to see—wanted him to see her, to see what he’d missed out on all these years. To see how wet he’d made her.

He bent over her, one palm flattening between her breasts, the other pressing hard—deliciously—on her thigh.

“I’m going to taste you, Summer Grace. I am going to bury my face between your lovely thighs and lick you and suck you and fuck you with my tongue until you come. And then I’m going to really fuck you. But that’ll have to wait.”

With his hands on her waist, he scooted her up on the bed, then he slid his hands down to her knees and roughly forced her thighs farther apart. She loved it—the manhandling. Loved his soft voice and his rough touch. So much it was making her dizzy.

In moments he was kneeling over her on the bed, his mouth between her thighs. And oh God, she thought she might actually die.

Soft lips and wet, seeking tongue—it was everything at once as he used one hand to hold her hip down, hard enough to hurt, while with the other he spread her open until her clit peeked out from under its hood. He began to flick his tongue at the delicate nub of sensitive flesh. Pleasure was like heat lightning, striking over and over, deep into her body. He moved down, lapping at her swollen lips, her clitoris, her waiting hole with his soft tongue.

She grasped his head, his buzz cut like velvet under her hands, and hung on, moaning. Panting. When he took her clit into his mouth and sucked hard, scraping the tip with his teeth as he thrust two fingers inside her, she came up off the bed, the first edge of climax shivering through her. He must have felt it—he added a third finger, and maybe a fourth—she wasn’t sure. All she knew was the sensation of being filled up. And at the same time he sucked so hard that the line between pain and pleasure was a blur. But she loved it. She screamed as she came, her body convulsing, drowning in sensation.

Before the last shivers of her climax had subsided, he began again, this time pinching the lips of her sex between his fingers and licking her clit, then pushing his tongue inside her. It was so soft and wet, the sensation nearly indescribable—that and the contrast of the pain from his pinching fingers. And his scent all around her, seeming to surround her, envelop her, as the heat of their bodies grew together. Soon she was coming again, shaking with it, crying his name.

“Jamie! Ah, God, Jamie . . . Yes!”

He lifted his face and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning, all dimples again, and even that was hot to her—the pleased look on his face. The damn dimples that had always made her swoon.

“You want to come for me again, sugar girl?”

“Yeah . . . I do. I need to.”

“Mmm, those might be the sexiest damn words I’ve ever heard.”

He stood, stroked the solid ridge of his erection through his jeans and she held her breath, waiting for him to reveal the flesh she’d dreamed of for years.

“I need to see you,” she told him. “To touch you. Come on, Jamie.”

“You want to touch me?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. “Come on then. You take it out. Take my cock out and suck me.”

She shivered at the way he was talking to her. Oh, she had never in a million years imagined what a filthy mouth he had. Somehow she’d always thought of him as more straight-laced than she was. But he had a hell of an edge in the bedroom. She hadn’t thought anything could make her more irresistibly drawn to Jamie Stewart-Greer, but oh my . . . that beautiful, masculine face and that dirty, dirty mouth. The man made her shaky, she needed him so badly.

She sat up on the edge of the bed and placed her hands on his hips. Looking up at him, catching his gaze with hers, she smoothed her palms over the front of his jeans until she felt that hard shaft. She drew her fingertips over it, drawing a groan from him. The desire blazing in his green eyes went through her like a surge of heat up her spine, and she suddenly—blindingly—became aware of her own power. The power of being utterly female. Of having this incredible man at her mercy. At the mercy of his desire for her. And the mercy of her sexual confidence, which was blossoming with every moment.

She ran her fingernails up the thick shaft, swallowing hard at the size of him, then back down, tearing her gaze from his face long enough to see his abs clench with need.

She brought her gaze back to his. “I can’t wait to have your cock in my hands,” she murmured. “To stroke you. To take you in my mouth. To suck you.”

“Fuck, Summer Grace.”

“No, don’t call me that now, Jamie. Call me anything else.”

He grabbed the back of her head and yanked her in until her face was an inch from his open fly.

“I will call you anything I want, sugar girl. We may not have negotiated full-on play yet, but never forget that when you’re with me, I am in charge. Completely.” The command in his voice scared her a little. She loved it. “And”—his tone and the grip on her hair softened—“you are always Summer Grace to me, even though you hate it when I call you that. You are always that sweet and sexy girl I’ve known forever. Wanted forever.”

“Oh . . .”

Had he? All those years that he’d turned her away? But she couldn’t think about it now. She could barely think of anything but doing exactly what she’d said. She licked her lips.

“You call me anything then, Jamie. As long as I can touch you.”

“Yeah, touch me, sweetheart. Do it.”

*   *   *

HE WATCHED HER as she pulled on his jeans, one small hand snaking in and wrapping around his cock.

He groaned. And thought he’d explode when she freed it from his jeans. The look on her face was pure sex: her blue, feline eyes narrowing, a sultry smile on her lips. Lush pink lips that opened to take the head of his cock into her mouth.

“Ah, yes, sugar.”

Pleasure was some strange combination—the liquid heat of her mouth and something that sliced into him like a knife. That sharp. That keenly edged. Because it was her.

Control.

He pulled in a gasping breath, then another, deeper this time.

He exhaled as she slid her tongue over the tip, into the hole for a moment, and some vague part of his lust-addled mind wondered where she’d learned that trick. Then his brain went empty as she swallowed him whole.

“Jesus!”

But she didn’t stop, didn’t even pause. With her hand still wrapped firmly around the base of his erection, she slid her mouth up and down the shaft, pausing to lick at the head, to nibble, to scrape her teeth lightly over the swollen flesh before sliding her lovely pink lips down again. He’d never in his life seen anything so damn hot as Summer Grace’s mouth on him, her lips wrapped around his hard cock—harder than he’d ever been in his life. He had to close his eyes or he was going to come in her mouth like some sixteen-year-old. Like he had into his fisted hand thinking about her as a teenager, over and over.