The Grand Pact (The Grand Men #1)(55)

I sway on the spot and lean over to bin the pancakes in the hallway.

I knew it.

Slotting my card in the lock, I push into my room. “Alright, I’m home… and I’m wet,” I add, biting my lip.

“Good girl.” His tone drops even deeper, full of something that calls to the slow-building ache at my core.

I walk to my en suite and grab a wet wipe to remove my makeup. “Wanna play a game, big boy?”

He chuckles down the line. “Who sounds filthy now?”

“I never said it was filthy.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, but that’s beside the point. You’d have to have a dirty mind to get to that conclusion, comprende?”

“No. Fucking. Comprende. Admit it, you’re a filthy little slut, aren’t you, princess?”

I tilt my head to the side, loving this too much. “For you… I could be.”

“Fuck, yes, you could.”

I fall to the bed and start to FaceTime him, throwing my makeup wipe onto the nightstand.

“You got something you want to show me?” he smirks as the screen switches, revealing the finest specimen of a man I’ve ever seen.

Elliot is wearing a white T-shirt. It fits tight across his chest and makes his skin glow deliciously.

“No. I just want to play this game,” I tell him, sitting up on the bed.

I look at him through the camera, and his lip curls. “What’s that fucking look?” He laughs, but it’s quickly silenced as I lift the balls from the satin-lined box and let them hang heavy from my pointer finger.

“Did you pick these out for me yourself?”

He nods his head yes, his throat working on a swallow.

“Do you want to play the game?” I question.

He clears his throat then asks, “What’s the game?”

My tongue peeks out to wet my lips, but I don’t retract it fully. Tilting my neck back and exposing my throat, I hover the silver balls above my mouth and utter, “Who can last the longest.”

I dip the balls into my mouth, letting them sink deep before I suck them slowly, drawing them out from between my lips.

I moan around them.

Elliot is silent on the other end of the phone. I know I’ve probably shocked him, but with the way our calls have been going, the way he looks at me and gives me cheeky comments—which I know mean more than either of us let on—he should’ve been expecting this.

“How much did you say you’d had to drink?”

I smile and look down at him through the phone. “Take your top off.”

Reaching over his head, he bunches the material at the back of his neck and pulls the white T-shirt off.

“This is fucking dangerous,” he tells me, his eyes eating me up through the phone.

“We’re just celebrating my first week! We’ll take turns. Anything you’re told to do, you do, and if you don’t do it, you’ll forfeit your next question.”

“You asked me to take my top off—”

“It’s your turn.” I nod, staring him down.

He scrubs his face as he watches me, reaching south and out of my line of sight. Although, I can see by the way his forearm strains that he’s rearranging himself.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “And I mean really okay?”

“That’s your question?” I rear back, knowing what a sex fiend he is. “Wait, you’re supposed to have me do something!” I shake the balls. “Of all the things you could have asked—”

He gives a subtle shake of his head, cutting me off as he says, “It’s the most important.”

He’s so fucking good at this. Why is that making him hotter? “I’m good. I promise I’m good, okay?”

He nods, then tips his chin. “Alright. Your turn.”

I roll my lips. “I want you to lie on the bed, hold your phone so that I can see your body.”

“Not my face?” He tuts, sounding hurt. “I’m wounded, princess.”

“It’s the game!” I grin.

I’m not losing.

“I know what the game is. I’m wondering if you’ve forgotten.”

Elliot lies back on the bed, his chest bare and his abs taut, rippling as he gets comfortable. He has a pair of shorts slung low around his hips and a deep V that directs my hungry gaze to his gloriously hard cock. It lies heavy under the material of his shorts, but the sheer thickness of it has the fabric moulding to him deliciously.

He grasps himself, squeezing his hardened length as he flexes his entire body. “I want your mouth to do everything your eyes are promising.” He squeezes himself again, then lets go. “I want you on your knees. Put the phone somewhere I can see.”

I immediately rise to my knees, then I lean across and stand my phone on the discarded pillows.

It’s my turn, and I know I’m about to veer far from the path I’ve always trusted. The path of a friendship. Gone. “Take your cock out. But no touching.”

I hear him groan, and I wish I could see his face. It’s not fair when he can see all of me, but I also want to win. If Elliot goes where I think he will, where I want to go—knees either side of that masterpiece of a face—I’ll lose.

I lift my hand and palm my breast through my thin silk shirt, knowing it will get me off the slowest and drive him wild.