Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(29)
“Careful,” I murmur.
She smiles, nuzzling my cheek with hers. “I want you.”
“Then get on your knees,” I command, dying to see how fast she’ll agree, but preparing for a fight.
Surprisingly enough, she doesn’t fight. She falls to her knees without hesitation. Her hands go to the waistband of my jeans to undo the snap before she tugs down the zipper, spreading the fly open to reveal my black boxer briefs. My cock strains against the thin cotton and she smiles, drawing her index finger along the length of my dick, making it twitch.
“I owe you, don’t I?” she asks as she tilts her head back, the sultry expression on her pretty face just about doing me in.
What is it about this woman? I should be casing her room for jewelry. Normally I would be. That damn Poppy Necklace is here. I can feel it. At the very least, I should be searching for it. Fuck her hard, wait till she falls asleep, and then go on the hunt.
But that’s the last thing I want to do. Oh, I definitely plan on f*cking her hard. Again and again, until the both of us fall asleep. I feel anything but normal in the presence of Rose Fowler.
And that should scare the ever-loving f*ck out of me.
She’s also talking about owing me and she’s the last person to be in debt to me. No one is in debt to me. More like I’m in debt to everyone else.
“You owe me for what?” I hold my breath as her fingers curl around the band of my underwear, her fingertips brushing against my stomach, making the muscles there flinch.
Her lips curve. “For last night.”
Not that I’m keeping count of orgasms or anything, but hey. I’m not about to refuse a blow job. “Take your clothes off first.”
She releases her hold on my underwear and I feel the loss of her touch like a physical blow. “You want me naked?”
Always. Like she has to ask? I’d keep her locked up and naked in this hotel room for days if she’d let me. “Definitely.”
Standing, she tugs her shirt off, then undoes the clasp on her bra before she whips that off too. One shove and her jeans and panties are sliding down her legs, until finally she’s standing before me with that perfect little body, completely bare.
“Your turn,” she says, her voice raspy as she carefully settles back onto her knees, resuming the position like a good little girl. Her eyes are trained on me as I pull off my shirt, then shove my underwear and jeans down my legs until I’m kicking them off along with my shoes. Until I’m just as naked as she is, on display and … feeling oddly vulnerable.
She stares at my cock, her eyes wide, her lips parted. Reaching out, she draws her index finger down the length, along my balls, making me shiver. I’m hard as a rock, my cock arcing toward my stomach and already leaking pre-come. I’m dying to feel her mouth on me, her hands …
And then she’s there, her mouth on my skin. Soft and warm and damp, her lips blazing a trail from my hip to my stomach, her fingers going around the base of my erection, gripping me firmly. My breath stalls in my throat as I watch her, her long hair falling around her face, tickling my cock, hiding all the good action from view.
Since I’m only a man, I reach out and brush her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear so I can watch. Rose sends me a knowing smile before she darts out her tongue and traces just the head of my cock, circling it, flicking at the flared ridge.
Driving me out of my f*cking mind.
She’s putting on a show just for me and I’m her captive audience. I can’t tear my gaze away as she strokes and licks, alternating between the two, teasing me with those glossy pink lips and that talented long tongue. Until finally, finally she purses her perfect lips at the tip, drawing my cock into her mouth deep. Deeper. She closes her eyes and relaxes her throat, taking me just about as far as I can get, and the guttural groan that rips from inside me expresses my pleasure at what she’s doing more than anything else I could say or do.
Holy hell, her mouth is like magic. I brace myself, tensing my muscles so I don’t collapse as I slowly start to move my hips, adjusting my grip on her hair so I’m holding it like a ponytail away from her face. She bobs on my cock, up and down, in and out of the warm cavern of her mouth, and when she lifts her honeyed gaze to mine, I’m f*cking lost.
The orgasm barrels down upon me like a damn freight train. Like every cliché you’ve ever heard describing an orgasm, that’s what I’m feeling. The wave. The warmth, the tingling at my spine, the heat in my balls, the tightening of my sac. I’ve got it all going on and then some and I f*ck her mouth, thrusting hard and deep, the vibrations of her moan making my entire body shiver and shake.
“I’m gonna come,” I tell her through gritted teeth, wanting to give her the warning in plenty of time, in case she wants to pull away. Girls don’t usually want to swallow. I get it. I’ve never particularly gotten off on it, either. I’m more of a visual type, so I prefer …
I tear my cock out of her mouth, a reluctant gesture that has her pouting at me. “I wanted to swallow,” she says, and a fresh wave of arousal takes over me at her words.
This girl is a constant surprise. She goes against every stereotype I’ve projected upon her and I love it.
“I want to see it,” I tell her as I wrap my fingers around my cock and start to stroke. She watches in fascination as I increase my pace, my blood rushing, my ears roaring. “Part your lips, baby.”