Page 66 of The Viper's Wife

I taste salt. My tongue slides over the hard metal bead of his piercing, and like I’m tonguing myself, my clit throbs in response.

His hand fists in my hair. I suck his cock into my mouth, stuffing myself with as much of his girth as I can.

“Is this what you need?” he asks.

I answer by sucking hard, hallowing my cheeks as I bob up and down on his shaft.

Above me, Nico swears.

He thrusts into my mouth, his thighs straining like he’s holding himself back from doing more. Heat and pressure build between my legs, demanding release. I reach down, but Nico snatches my hands and holds them over my head.

“No.”

A fluttering like butterfly wings as a handful of cash cascades around my face and back.

“I’m not paying you to touch yourself.”

I glare up at him.

He laughs cruelly. “Go ahead, hate me while you suck my cock.” He shoves his foot between my legs. “You want to come, ride my boot.”

I refuse.

I bury him in my mouth, straining to swallow all of him into me, determined to make him come without giving him the satisfaction of mutual pleasure.

That’s his fucking problem, isn’t it? He thinks if he makes me come too, he owns me.

“Fuck,” he groans the word out long and ragged. “You’re too fucking good at that.”

My jaw aches, but I don’t stop. He’s close.

He shoves his leg against my clit, grinding pleasure out of me.

“Ride me, pretty girl.” His amber eyes are hazy with lust.

I want to. I want to give in so badly.

Maybe my hips rock against his boot. Maybe it hits just the right spot.

But I fight off the rising pressure.

I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Fuck, Val.”

He stiffens in my mouth, swelling long and hard, and then he’s coming, coating my tongue in pulse after pulse of hot seed that I swallow down, too aroused to deny myself the pleasure.

Nico shudders underneath me.

I flick my gaze up at him.

Bliss on his features, he shoves his leg further underneath me.

I jerk my hips back.

Realization crosses his face. His amber eyes focus on mewith growing clarity, and I can nearly see the thoughts sliding into place.

“You didn’t come.” It’s not a question.