Page 64 of Breakaway Bet

“Fuck, fuck, Ivy. Fuck. I’m about to come all over your gorgeous mouth.”

I want to tell him to do it, to wreck me, but since my mouth is currently full, I try to communicate it through my eyes.

Another growl bursts from him, signaling his release. I feel the first jet as it hits the back of my throat, and I suck on him as he slows his thrusts, holding on around his thigh with one hand and keeping my other fist on his shaft, following the motion he makes as he moves in and out of my mouth. Another spurt, and another, fall onto my tongue, hot and sticky, sweet and salty. I swallow around him, and I suck on him, closing my mouth around him as he rides out his climax.

When his pulses slow, he shifts his hips back gently, pulling out of my mouth, and I let go of my hold on his cock as he stares down at me with absolute adoration in his eyes.

“Jesus, Ivy. That was hot as fuck,” he says as he tucks himself back into his boxers and zips up his jeans.

My brows shoot up so high I think they might actually come off my head, comic-book style. “Really? It was my first.”

His jaw drops. Legit just drops wide open, and his brows push together. “That was your first blow job?”

I nod. “Was it okay? I didn’t want to say before because, well, I didn’t wan—”

He cuts me off when he hauls me up off the floor, wrapping his arms around me and dropping his mouth to mine. He kisses me hard, his tongue exploring my mouth like he didn’t just come all over it, like he’s freaking owning it. “That was the best blow job of my life. Nobody else has fucked this mouth, and now it’s mine.”

His eyes are glowing at me as he says the words. It’s so possessive that it’s nearly demeaning, and for some reason, it’s so damn hot that it makes me want to come right here. Heat pools between my legs, and it feels like maybe I am coming right here, like I’m so wet it’s practically dripping out of me. There’s an ache between my legs so dark, so deep, that it feels like only Cash’s mouth could possibly relieve it.

I want him to own me. I want him to dominate me. I want to be the woman he comes home to, the one he fucks slowly after a long day. The one who gives him blow jobs that he thinks about when he’s on the ice.

But I also want to be the one who holds his hand in the hard moments and laughs with him in the easy ones.

I want to be his wife.

We still hardly know each other, but every moment I spend in his presence, every new secret I uncover about him…the more I want to get to know him.

The more I want to stay.

I want him to make good on his promise that he won’t fuck me until I’m begging for his cock. This anticipation, this need between us, it’s palpable. It’s putting me into a frenzy of need like I’ve never felt before.

And when he lets me go because he’s kissed me raw, he picks me up and tosses me down onto the couch.

He flicks the button of my pants, and he yanks them down my legs in one fell swoop along with the lacy white panties I wore today.

He stares at me lying naked on his couch, and he runs his fingertips over my mound, my legs separated, my eyes on him from my lying position as I wait with heated anticipation, my hips lifting off the couch as I hope for some friction.

His fingertips dance up my stomach toward my ribs, and then still higher to one of my breasts. He stops there to massage it, and then he moves onto the couch, hovering over me, and he leans down to kiss me again. I shift my hips, searching for him, wanting him. Needing him.

He pulls back from our kiss, and his mouth starts to trail down my body, leaving wet kisses behind in its wake. He stops at one of my tits, and he sucks on my nipple, massaging it as he works my body as he builds that ache still higher.

His fingertips move back down my body now, and he pulls back from my boob as he teases me, sliding his finger on either side of my pussy, touching the outer lips without going inside.

“Has anyone ever eaten this pretty pussy?” he murmurs.

My eyes meet his as I shake my head.

His eyes light with excitement. “I get to be the first?”

I nod.

“Fuck yes,” he murmurs as his mouth goes back to my nipple and he pushes one of those teasing fingers inside me.

He groans around my boob as he feels how wet I am, and he holds my nipple between his teeth for a beat as he says, “Fuck, that’s wet.”

“It’s all for you,” I cry out, my hips undulating to the rhythm of his finger.

“Mm,” he murmurs, practically purring around my breast. He adds a second finger, and we both hear the squelching sound of his fingers inside me as he pushes in and pulls back. I ride his hand, seconds from coming, feeling dizzy and achy all over. It’s too much pleasure between my nipple and my pussy, and I can hardly stand it. His mouth is so good. His fingers are perfection.