Lily's Last Stand by Delilah Devlin Page B

spreading his fingers and clamping one cheek of her ass as she sidled closer.
    Her teeth bit into her lower lip, and she flirted again with her baby blues. “I can make it up to you.” Her fingertip glided down the front of his trousers, curving over the bulge building there.
    “Wipe that red all over my dick, and maybe I’ll let you off light,” he growled.
    Her lips twitched, but she flicked back her hair. Then, holding his gaze, she slid slowly to her knees, her hands gliding from his chest to his belly. She thumbed open his pants and dragged down his zipper. Then she parted the sides of the fabric, burrowed into the opening in his boxers, and slowly pulled his cock from his pants.
    Brent gripped the edge of the desk and leaned back as her honey-colored hair masked her movements. He couldn’t see, but he felt her humid breath against the tip. Her wet tongue lapped around and around the cap, tickling under the ridge, then over the top again. She pulled back.
    “How are your knees?” he asked.
    “Will you let me stop if I say they hurt?”
    They didn’t. He could tell by the saucy slant of her eyes. She was testing, pushing to see how firm he’d be if she didn’t please him. How unexpected. How intriguing. Sex between them hadn’t held any surprises in a long, long time. Not that it wasn’t satisfying. Not that he wasn’t happy with her. However, now his mind and body buzzed with new possibilities.
    He combed through her hair then dug his fingers into her scalp. “Don’t stop until I’m ready to blow.”
    That wicked tongue darted out, did a circle around her drenched mouth, then slid out of sight.
    Brent couldn’t contain his moan. Or the growl that rattled through him at her wanton smile.
    Her soft warm hands wrapped around his shaft, giving him a squeeze, and for the first time ever, he corrected her. “Squeeze harder. Give it a little twist.”
    Her eyes widened, but she did as he instructed, then glanced up again. “Like that?”
    It was damn near perfect, but he didn’t want her knowing that just yet. He placed a hand over both of hers and squeezed just a little harder, then began to slowly slide her hands up and down his shaft. “I’m not fragile. It won’t break. If I make noises when you touch me, it’s because I ache for it, sweetheart.”
    “I’ve been doing it wrong?”
    “Not wrong. Just not my preference.”
    “And you couldn’t tell me?” she whispered.
    He stayed silent, realizing that he’d had her on a pedestal all these years. His pretty little wife. His perfect trophy. Perfect mom. Never a full-blooded partner, because he hadn’t thought she’d want everything he could bring. “I’m sorry. I should have.”
    “Damn straight,” she said, which made him smile since she rarely cursed.
    Suddenly, he didn’t want the blowjob. Didn’t want her giving to him again. He slid his hands under her arms and forced her up. He bent his head to rub his lips against hers, taking the gloss, the red stain onto his mouth. With a quick turn, he pushed her against the desk, forcing her to arch her back. He rubbed her nipples with his mouth, painting them with the rich color.
    Then he moved down her belly, sucking against her skin, nipping, until her belly jumped, and she gasped. “Brent!”
    He reached her mound and slid his tongue into her slit. Her legs trembled, and she melted, sliding limply to the surface of the desk. But that was okay, because he had her. He shoved his arms behind her knees and raised them, pushing them higher, parting her so that he could stare at her cunt. He hadn’t gone down on her in ages. And why hadn’t he? Did he expect her to ask for it? She wouldn’t because she was always eager to please him. He’d been a selfish bastard.
    Bending, he thrust his tongue deeper into her slit, found her entrance, and snaked his tongue inside, tasting her saltwater flavor. Her scent, redolent with her light musk and a hint of the perfume he’d given her last Christmas,