Page 84 of Misguided

“Dog,” I whisper, breaking from his soul-stealing kiss.

“Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, resting his forehead to mine.

“I’m feeling hungry.”

Dog hisses between his teeth as I place a hand on his chest and push him back so he sits on his heels. He watches me with what seems like disbelief as I shuffle back on my knees, and lean down to unlatch his belt. The leather strap rests on his hips as I pop the dome, and ease the zipper down, my heart racing as much as his probably does in this moment.

“You sure, baby?” he asks as I tuck my fingers inside the waistband of his boxers, and pull the fabric out and over his stiff length.

I peer up at him from under my lashes and nod. He groans as I take his cock in my hand, and give a single, firm stroke. Dog braces both hands on the bed and rocks further back on his heels. A bead of precum glistens at the tip, and I swipe it with the pad of my thumb. He jerks his hips, the sound of his breath hitching in his throat all I need to give me the last confidence boost. I wrap my lips around the thick length and take him as far into my mouth as I can.

He’s fucking hung.

Yet that’s not what causes my tears as I take him to the back of my throat over and over again, my hand pumping and twisting, squeezing and pulsing. My hair falls around my face, hiding my conflict from Dog as I work him to the edge. His legs tense, his hands on my shoulders as he grips me painfully tight.

“Fuck, Mel. I’m close,” he warns, pulling away slightly. “Spit or swallow, babe. You better make up your mind now.”

I can’t talk, can’t even fathom saying a thing as my chest constricts with the effort I place on myself to hold it together long enough to give him what he deserves. It’s not his fault I’m clearly still an emotional wreck, so terrified of screwing things up with him, that I’ll lose him after we’ve got to this point.

I don’t want to be that girl—the ones I saw watch him from across the room after he’d tossed them aside the week before, sad and clearly trying to work out why they weren’t enough. I want to believe that the things he’s said, the time we’ve spent together meant something.

That I am enough.

I want reassurance that what we’re doing here, right now, isn’t the result of us both being so caught up in the drama that’s been the past week and a bit. If all this is, is a high, set to crash, then damn, I don’t want it to end.

“Babe?” He pushes hard against my shoulders, shoving me away from the task at hand. “Hey.”

I push his hand away as he tries to stroke the hair from my face and then reach for the sheets to cover myself.

“Tell me what the fuck is goin’ on, Mel.”

He seems … panicked. And I suppose it makes sense for him to be. Ask King, even Hooch, and I’m some fucking royalty that needs to be treated with care. Why though? I’ve got nothing going for me other than my name.

I’m just a girl. A sad and lost girl looking for a man to love her as she is, not because of who she is.

Dog takes my silence in stride and gently helps me untangle the edge of the sheet so I can pull it up to my chest. The simple, caring gesture causes a deep desire to scream to build within me, the restrained urge making my hands shake. Why does he have to keep being so sweet, over and over?

“You’re supposed to be a jerk, Dog,” I snap. “You’re supposed to be an ignorant asshole so it’s easy for me to want to stay away from you.”

The fucker smirks at me, still reclined on his heels in his full semi-nude glory. Bastard.

“You’re a right fuckin’ mess, ain’t you,” he says with a chuckle. No ounce of resentment, no malice, just an entertained observation.

As angry as I am at everything, I can’t help but smile as he tucks his cock away with a disappointed grimace. I am a fucking mess. A complete tangle of emotions.

“I’m sorry.”

He lifts his head to look at me as though asking why.

I point to the tent in his undone jeans.

He shakes his head with a smile and crawls up the bed to settle behind me, his legs kicked out either side of me. “Not the first time I’ve been left with blue balls.”

“Really?”

He tugs me back into his hold. “You think I would have learned not to try and fuck ’em when they’d had too much to drink, huh.”

That trespassing sense of jealousy returns as I arrange the sheet over myself again. “You’d think.”