Rebound (Tryst Island Series) by Sabrina York

moment longer.  
    She engulfed him. Sucked him in a slow rhythmic cadence. He wriggled. Urged his hips forward. Clung to the arm of the chair, his knuckles white.
    “Jesus. Jesus.” As though he couldn’t manage any other word, any utterance, any thought.
    “Hush. I don’t like to be interrupted.”
    “Kristi—” His growl morphed into a little warble as she nestled deeper and licked the base of his cock, tickling the balls still trapped in denim. He pushed her away—but before she had time to pout, he stood, yanked down his jeans and his briefs and sat back down, threaded his fingers into her hair and guided her back. “More. More. Jesus. More.”
    She glanced up at him with a smile.
    Oh, she’d give him more. More than he could bear, if she had her way.
    Strap in , Cam Jackson, she thought. You’re in for the ride of your life.
     
    He couldn’t believe it.
    He couldn’t fucking believe it.
    Kristi Cross on her knees before him, stroking his cock, sucking, nibbling, drawing the most delicious torture upon him he’d ever been lucky enough to endure. Her mouth was incredible. Velvety soft and wet and warm. And she knew what she was doing. He couldn’t bear to think on how she’d gained such expertise, so he didn’t. He just luxuriated in wave after wave of exquisite pleasure.
    When she changed her position and sheathed him in her clutching throat, all the way to the hilt, his entire body clenched. His grip tightened in her hair. He loved the way she responded to his every cue. Moving just the way he needed, stroking with just the right amount of pressure, lightening up and then constricting with flawless instinct.
    They were perfect together. A perfect match.
    And then he discovered an awful truth.
    Kristi Cross was a tease.
    He should have known. Should have seen that evil light in her eye when she peeped up at him, his cock nested in her mouth, her cheeks plump, her lips—even wrapped around him—canted in a wicked grin.
    He should have foreseen what was coming.
    She hummed around him. A moan, a murmur. The vibration sent agonizing skewers through his bowels. He thrust into her. Couldn’t help it. It was pure, unbridled impulse. Raw, ragged need.
    To his horror, she released him and shook a finger at him. “Ah ah ah. Hold still.”
    “I can’t.” A harsh whisper.
    “Hold still and let me work. You are a canvas, and I’m painting on you.”
    He recognized his own words from the night before and his heart stopped—then set up a manic tattoo. Hell no. She wasn’t going to torment him. Not like he’d tormented her.
    But she was.
    Instead of taking him back in her mouth, she kissed his cock, kissed it and stroked it with a feather-light touch that about drove him insane. Then she veered off course and started nuzzling his belly, the curve of his hip, the top of his thigh. He squirmed a little, trying to guide her exploration back where he wanted it.  
    She chuckled. “I told you to hold still.”
    “Jesus, Kristi. You’re driving me wild.”
    “You drove me wild last night. Turnabout is fair play.”
    Aw, shit. She was. She was getting him back for teasing her. “Let’s go inside. To my room and…finish this conversation there.” He’d fucking tie her down—as Holt suggested. Tie her down and dominate her with his cock…
    “I want to finish it here.”
    He opened his mouth to protest, but then flinched as he heard the slider open overhead, then footsteps and the chatter of conversation as Bella and Cassie floated onto the deck. He could see their shadows flitting through the cracks of the boards. And then the dreaded slide of chairs as they seated themselves at the table. Right over his head. His lips parted. He stared at Kristi and madly shook his head, reaching for his jeans.
    She didn’t allow it.
    She grabbed his cock again and squeezed it tight, stroking with a slow, excruciating caress. Her lips curved. She edged closer and whispered, “Be sure to be quiet. We don’t want them