Act Your Age, Eve Brown (The Brown Sisters #3)(63)

“Yes.” The word was strained and breathy this time, because he was tugging at the waistband of her leggings. Tugging them down, down, down, and when they didn’t come easy, he tugged harder with an impatience that made her moan. She rushed to aid him in the leggings removal, kicking them off and laughing when he literally threw them aside.

“And you like that?” he asked as he settled between her thighs. His face hovered right over her cotton-clad pussy, and fuck, all she wanted to do was grab him by the hair and shove his mouth against her clit, hard—but he was being focused again, which was just as good. Focused on her, focused on words, his hazy blue eyes focused on her mouth. “You like fucking yourself, and nothing else?” he repeated, the question a growl. “That makes you come?”

“If I do it hard enough,” she whispered, “and deep enough.”

He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut, and she felt the bed rock as he thrust his hips against the mattress. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, watching him in fascination. He was . . . losing it. Losing it in a way she’d never seen before, his hand shaking as he toyed with the lacy edge of her knickers. Losing it because of her.

God, that was hot. That was so fucking hot she might die.

“I’m going to do this,” he said, almost to himself, “and then I’m going to leave you the hell alone.”

She bit her lip. “What if I don’t want you to leave me alone?”

His jaw tightened. “There are—rules, Eve. Social rules. I know what they are. I learned them.”

“So did I,” she shot back. “Maybe I just don’t care.”

“Because you want me so badly?” he asked sardonically. As if that couldn’t possibly be the reason, and he’d hear nothing to the contrary. Before she could begin to formulate the right response to that—before she could even put her finger on just how wrong it was—he continued. “I shouldn’t be doing this, but look . . .” His voice cracked as he finally glanced down at her pussy. “God, look at you. I’ll just—”

“What?” she demanded breathlessly, her hips lifting without permission, chasing the soft, swollen invitation of his mouth.

“I’ll just help you a little bit,” he said, as if that was a perfectly reasonable way to describe fucking someone with a giant purple dildo. And she was pretty sure he intended to fuck her with a giant purple dildo. Because he put it carefully down beside him, as if he’d need it later, and then he hooked a finger into the damp fabric of her underwear and pushed it aside, just enough to expose her desperate pussy. “I’ll warm you up,” he murmured, “and then I’ll help you.”

“Jacob—”

He bent his head and pressed his tongue against her pussy. Eve almost screamed, the rush of pleasure was so intense. It seemed to fold out and out and out from her middle until it had taken over her entire body. Violently.

“Mmm,” he murmured, the sound vibrating through her, and then the breadth of his tongue spread her open. Slowly, thoroughly, he laved the swollen bud of her clit.

“Oh, God,” she whined, her hands falling to grasp his hair. “Oh, God.” She tugged, almost viciously, and he moaned.

Then he licked her again. She might have screamed a little bit, at that point.

Jacob looked up, his grin wicked and satisfied, his lips glossy with her wetness. “You better tell me what you want.”

“Jacob.” She raised one hand to her own breast, squeezed it hard and pretended it was him. All she needed was him.

“Tell me exactly what you want. Tell me,” he ordered, “and I’ll learn this, too.”

“God,” she choked out, “why the fuck are you so—sexy?”

“For you,” he said, “obviously.”

She kind of wanted to smack him, but, like, in a hot way. More than that, though—“I want you to fuck me.”

“Is that so?” he asked softly, bending his head to her cunt again. His mouth, tender but firm, brushed against her folds as he spoke. “Let me guess. You want something nice and long and thick inside you. Here.” He pushed the tip of his tongue into her sensitized entrance and Eve’s entire body jerked as if shocked with pleasure.

“Now,” she gasped, her nerves humming with the urge to just—to just grab him and drag him higher and yank him out of those jeans.

Then he picked up the dildo and said, “Good thing we have this.”

It was strange, the way her pulse leapt with anticipation even as her heart drooped a bit. “I want you.”

“I’m right here,” he said, his gaze on hers, something solemn and more serious than she’d ever seen in his eyes. “Just let me do this. Okay, Evie?”

Little fragments of reality crept up on her then. Like the fact that what they were doing would complicate things, and Jacob hated complications. Or the fact that she shouldn’t have time for complications, since she was busy learning to make sensible, adult decisions, not hormone-led messy ones.

They were floating together in a bubble of lust, a fragile sheen of protection against hard questions like What did that mean? and What are we now? Maybe Eve wasn’t the only one who’d learned to dread the inevitable, negative answers to questions like that.

Smoothing a hand through his hair, she asked, “What do you want, Jacob? Really?”