The Punk and the Plaything (When Rivals Play #3) - B.B. Reid Page 0,78

me, his brown eyes twin pools of flame, and I knew then that he was as desperate for this as I was.

“Suck me, and maybe I’ll suck you.”

As he caressed my bottom lip with the tip of his finger, his gaze darkened as he pondered my offer. “And just how long have you wanted to get my dick between those lips?”

From the moment I realized I would never be over you.

“Shit or get off the pot, Jameson,” was what I said instead.

His pierced brow rising was the only answer I got before his head lowered, and he cruelly sank his teeth into the top of my breast, making me cry out. At the same time, I could feel my clit throbbing almost violently and my toes curling.

This was all before his lips even closed around my nipple.

He worshipped them both, suckling and lashing with his tongue until my eyes nearly rolled to the back of my head. I was vaguely aware of him fumbling to get underneath my gown. I waited with bated breath for the moment his fingers found my neat strip of strawberry curls, and he made an approving sound. I was running out of air as I waited for his fingers to dip lower, to tease my clit, and maybe fuck me with those cruel, talented fingers.

My lips parted, ready to beg like he wanted when I’d been too proud just moments ago, but then he was shoving the hem of my gown up, bunching the heavy material around my waist.

His hands moved away, and I eagerly held my skirt up while he undid his pants before shoving them, along with his boxers, down to his thighs. I couldn’t see his dick in the dark, but when he reached out and grabbed my hand, curling it around him, I realized he was a monster in every way. Jamie’s cock was thick, warm, and impossibly long. And he was so hard I could feel each of the veins running the length of his dick.

“You have no idea how much I want you to sit on it,” he whispered.

Hearing the desperation in his voice, I lifted my hips. Virgin or not, I was ready to throw caution to the wind and stuff my pussy with every inch. Just as I felt his cock parting my lower lips, his hand was suddenly between my legs, cupping me.

“Appreciate the gesture, kitten, but I don’t think your little pussy could take it.”

I didn’t think so either, but I was more than eager to try. As if sensing my determination, his hand started to move away, but at the last moment, I felt his middle finger teasing my clit until my eyes fluttered, and I was leaking all over his hand.

“Jamie,” I whimpered. I was so close, and all from just his featherlight touch. It was like he was being careful not to give me too much, fearing he might lose control.

When he pulled away this time, I almost cried, but then his hands were on my waist, guiding me until my warm, wet pussy kissed his rock-hard thigh. Jamie’s long legs were spread wide as he slouched low in the seat, giving me the traction I’d need to ride him to climax.

Leaning forward, he drew my nipple between his lips, making me sigh his name as I cradled his head and ran my fingers through his hair. I wasn’t sure when my hips began to move, but slowly, I found a rhythm until it felt like I’d climbed impossibly high. The friction fired off every nerve I had until I was gasping and pressing myself harder on his thigh.

“Fuck, Bette. You’re riding me like you own me.” The guttural groan that followed nearly tipped me over the edge. We both knew I did—just as much as he owned me.

As if needing to prove it, he wrapped a hand around my neck, and seconds later, shock broke through my lustful fog when he lifted the hand still gripping his cock and held my gaze as he crudely spat in my palm.

My lips parted, but no words came.

Slowly, he curled my wet palm back around him, and the only reaction I gave was to press my now throbbing clit down on him harder. Jamie’s hand stayed on top of my mine, guiding me, showing me just how he wanted to be touched.

His lids lowered as he bit his lip, and I couldn’t help but lean forward to steal a kiss. It was the first