Tagged Steel (Men of Steel #6) - MJ Fields Page 0,10

already gaping mouth and pulling me forward. “Put those lips I bruised around my cock, sweets.”

I open wide, so fucking wide, and then he removes his fingers from my mouth to cup the back of my head as he fucks my face.

He steps back, forcing me to follow him as he turns our bodies so he can sit on the table. I grip the base of him as he leans back, watching me now as I suck the saliva off his cock. His chest heaves, and his lips part slightly, his teeth still together.

“You better stop.”

Feeling some sense of control now, I suck harder and pump faster as I watch him begin to lose it.

I give him a slow wink, and his brow rises.

Reaching down, he lifts me up as I bite down on him.

A deep rumble leaves his chest. “Good way to chip a tooth.” He pulls me up as he leans back. “On my fucking face, sweet treat.”

He doesn’t wait for me to finish him off. He grips my hips and pulls me up.

I turn my body so that I can taste his soft, steel-like skin in my mouth as he pulls my soaked center onto his face and licks me savagely.

Against me, he groans, “Last warning.”

I don’t stop until I’m sure his face is covered with my juices, and my mouth is full of his cum.

Still swallowing … trying to catch my breath and slow my heartbeat, I swing my leg over and dismount the face of a … fucking man … and try my best to stop my legs from shaking while I stand on the floor.

Awkward is never a feeling I’ve had after sex, but then again, I’ve never actually had sex with a person that I met just four hours ago.

Unsatisfied and questioning why I bothered getting naked for maybe ten minutes, if I was lucky, to race to the finish, a race I always lost. That was sex … until twenty minutes ago.

As I begin to squat down to grab my haphazardly discarded clothing, a hand on my hip stops me. I begin to look back when I feel a warm cloth between my legs. I didn’t even hear the water run.

“I’d offer you a shower, but …” He leaves it hanging as he wipes up one thigh then the next before beginning to wipe my center.

“I can manage.” I reach down and attempt to take the cloth, but he doesn’t let go. I look back to see his eyes are softer now.

“Take your time.”

“Take my time?” I ask.

“Getting your shit straight.” He holds back a smirk.

“I assure you, my shit’s straight.” My shit is so not straight.

“If we had more time, I would have fucked that up, too.” He steps back and looks me over.

The source of raw emptiness pulses again.

He makes no attempt to put clothes on; he simply watches me with irritating amusement.

“You do know I just fucked your face, so …” I give him a smug look and shrug.

When he laughs, I arch a brow while pulling my underpants up.

He holds his hands up as if to mockingly concede, I turn my back to him as I put on my bra, trying to hide my own smile.

I just fucked your face? Really? I scold myself.

When I feel my tank top being placed over my head, I softly thank him and push my arms through the holes.

“How much do I owe you?”

“For fucking my face? That was my pleasure. No charge.”

My elbow jerks back and hits the wall of muscles behind me lightly. He chuckles.

“The art.”

“How about, when you come back in, we’ll discuss it?”

I turn around and look up at him, careful to avert my eyes from the body of a god who is holding my skirt. “This was a hookup.” I roll my eyes, trying to play it off that the thought of seeing him naked doesn’t entice the swarm of butterflies in my belly that have begun to dance again, and grab my skirt hanging off fingers that were inside me minutes ago.

He quirks an eyebrow. “Six to nine months later doesn’t exactly constitute a serious relationship.”

“If I can squeeze you into the rotation, I’ll let you know.”

He bends down and grabs my sweater before I have a chance and holds it up. “Must be a small rotation, since I barely squeezed into you, sweets.”

I push my arms into the sweater. “I’ve had”—I pause as he turns me around and steps back, pointing down with a very