Page 138 of Tormented

THIRTY-EIGHT

Sawyer

Her dark irises track my every motion as I drop my belt to the floor and give a sneaky flex for a little added show.

Rose flushes her cheeks.

Game on . . . .

Get back in your fucking box.

“We’ve already got a problem, Abbey-girl.”

“Yeah?” The word is barely audible, a stolen breath dropped from swollen lips.

“You’re wearing too much.”

She looks down at her simple yet sexy bra and panties. “Guess I better fix that.”

She ditches the bra at the same time as I drop my jeans.

“What now?”

“You fuckin’ shut up and take what I give you.”

She gasps when I grab her by the upper arms and literally throw her ass on the bed. Her panties hit the floor a second later, and I prop her feet up on the side of the mattress so her knees are bent and everything is on display. My dick strains in my boxers as I step back and admire the view.

Nice . . . .

Seriously, fuck the hell off.

“Pretty in pink, girl.”

“It wants you to eat it,” she purrs.

Fucking hell. Kill the monsters in her closet, and the girl’s got brass. I’m moving to kneel at her feet when she stops me with a raised palm.

“What?”

“You’ve got too many clothes on.”

My lips curl up on one side as I hook both thumbs in the waistband of my boxers and drop them to the floor. She pushes up on both elbows to take the length of me in—yeah, both kinds.

“Now you may.”

I drop to the floor and fucking worship her in every damn way she deserves. Her head is tossed back, ragged moans filtering from her lips as I sweep my tongue the length of her, teasing her clit with little strokes of its own.

Her honey on my taste buds, and her words on my mind.

She wants this, always. She wants something with me. And she said she’s not interested in changing who I am. Could this really be it? Have I finally found my queen?

Who fucking cares, when she grinds her sweet pussy against my face like that?

Her legs drop, feet hitting the floor, and she clamps my head with her strong thighs. The girl works out, that’s for sure, but it’s not the kind of sweat I want to see on her right about now.

I reach up the length of her body, massaging her breasts on my way to her throat. My fingers close over that slender neck, and her legs close on my head. She groans; the vibrations run through my palm and tickle my wrist. I press a little tighter. She creams a little harder.

This game’s fun.