Page 30 of The Heart Breaker

I give her a few seconds, waiting to see if she shoves me back and walks out the door.

Instead, she tilts her head and pastes on a smirk. “You seem a little nervous,” she says, lifting her brow teasingly. “Are you sure you even know how to make a woman come?”

A laugh slips out under my breath and I tug on her bottom lip. “You’re going to open that pretty mouth for one reason tonight,” I murmur, leaning in close enough to feel the hitch in her breath, “and it isn’t to insult me.”

Whatever restraint I had snaps clean in half as I grab a handful of her ass through that skirt that’s been driving me insane from the moment I saw her.

I yank her top over her head, and the sight of her in that thin lace bra knocks the air out of me. Her skirt hits the floor next, kicked aside, leaving her in nothing but matching lace underwear.

Did she wear this for frat boy? Or does she just… walk around in shit like this?

Either way, it makes me furious.

A low sound tears from her throat when I grip her ass again, harder this time. I’m pissed at myself for how much I want her, how easy it is to forget every reason I hate her.

Her hands slide under my shirt, lifting it higher, and I drag it over my head. Her gaze drops to my tattooed chest, and she swallows at the sight before she catches herself and looks away. A smirk tugs at my lips.

Aurora Prescott wants me.

And hates herself for it.

Fucking ditto.

I pop the button of my jeans and drag the zipper down, pushing the denim down my hips until it pools on the floor. I’m already hard—have been since the second I walked into that bathroom—and my cock is straining against my boxers.

I shove the fabric down and wrap my hand around myself, giving it a slow stroke.

Her eyes drop instantly, her mouth parting in shock as she watches me stroke my cock. A rough laugh slips out of me when I realize she’s completely transfixed by my frenum piercing.

“Enjoying the view, Prescott?”

She snaps her gaze back up to mine, shooting me a glare, but it’s too late. I saw the hunger in her eyes that she’d rather chew glass than admit to.

“Get on your knees,” I tell her.

Her eyes flare with anger, but she sinks down slowly in front of me.

I give myself another stroke, groaning at the sight of her on her knees for me. “Open your mouth.”

She shoots me another glare, but she parts her lips, sticking her tongue out for me, wet and pink and waiting.

I slap my cock onto her tongue. “You want to act like a brat,” I murmur, sliding my fist into her hair with my other hand, “I’ll treat you like one.”

I guide her down as she wraps her lips around the head of my cock, running her tongue over my piercings so slowly it irritates me.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” I grit out, tightening my grip on her hair. “I want you to suck it like you’ve been craving it all damn night.”

She narrows her eyes but takes more of me, her cheeks hollowing, dragging me deeper, inch by inch.

I suck in a sharp breath when I feel her scrape her teeth on my cock on purpose, and I tug her hair back, tilting her head to meet my eyes. “Don’t be a fucking brat. Use that pretty mouth and suck.”

She looks like she wants to stab me but lowers her head again, her tongue flicking over the piercings, teasing the tip. Her lips seal tight around the head as she sinks forward, and the heat of her mouth hits me so hard my knees nearly buckle.

“Fuck,” I breathe, the word scraping out of me. “Guess that mouth’s good for something after all.”

Spit spills past her lips as she sucks me down, pressing her tongue flat as she slides me deeper and deeper, until I hit the back of her throat. She gags around me, her throat tightening, but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t even pull back.

Christ. I feel dizzy.