Page 80 of Rituals & Rivalry

Aurora is begging for me.

I press my face to her silky underwear and inhale, my tongue pressing against the fabric. Searching. Probing. Her arousal is plentiful despite the barrier between us, and I can’t stop, even though I should remove them. I keep licking. Pushing. Harder.

“Wait”—she gasps—“I’m going to. Wait.”

It’s too late. She shakes under my grasp, her body convulsing, whimpers falling from her lips.

I look up at her and tilt my head to the side. “Did you… already…?”

She nods, pink blossoming across her cheeks.

I close my eyes. Collecting myself before I make a mess of my pants. I’m rock hard in my pants and seconds from exploding. It’s been so long since someone else has touched me—and she hasn’t yet, but the thought alone could send me over the edge.

“Show me to your bedroom,” I say before remembering my manners. “Please.”

She pushes her skirt back down around her thighs and does as I’ve asked, but every step is excruciating. All I want is to be with her, the way we’ve talked about. The way we’ve been before. The way I’ve always wanted.

Up the stairs. To the right.

I already know the room, but it’s different now that it belongs to Aurora. Paintings of the night sky litter the walls, and there’s a small bookshelf of strange romance novels I’ve never heard of. Her vanity is plentiful, covered in perfumes and other bottles I don’t know the meaning of.

While my attention wanders around the room, she has other ideas.

Being here would be nostalgic, sad, but she’s the perfect distraction.

Aurora drops to her knees. Right in front of me.

I swallow, the sensation dry and forced as she gazes up at me. Her fingers trail over my bulge, and she leans in, her lips dangerously close.

“Will you let me do this?” she asks. “I’ve been waiting so long.”

All I can do is nod. How does one speak? It seems I’ve forgotten.

She undoes my pants, unbuttoning and unzipping, pushing them to the floor.

When she pushes the fabric down, my length springs free. Hard. So close to her mouth. I ball my hands into fists, fighting with urges to grab her and put her mouth exactly where I want it. All I want is to fuck into her throat, to see how her eyes water, to see how deep she can take me.

I let her go at her own pace instead, no matter how torturous it is. She licks me from base to tip until my cock is wet and needy, and then she kisses me, soft and sweet, every inch, leaving lip gloss in her wake. I lean my weight against the door, my fingers pressing into the wood.

“Your cock is so pretty,” she croons.

“Pretty?” I bark out a laugh, but it swiftly transforms into a moan.

“Mhm. So big. It’s going to feel so good in my mouth. Heavy. I love that feeling.”

I tilt my head and wet my lips. “Then why don’t you stop teasing me, you little terror?”

“You still think I’m a terror?” She pouts.

That does it. Those soft, pouty lips are going to kill me. Something in me snaps.

“You were a brat the day I met you in that bar, and nothing has changed.” I weave my fingers into her hair and drag her closer, so her lips are right near my leaking tip. “You’re terrorizing me right now. Be a good girl and open up.”

Since the day she came to Starbrook, I’ve been wanting to fuck the brat out of her. Now, I finally can.

She wiggles her hips, evidently turned on, and I hold her hair tighter when her lips open for me. With the grip, I guide her onto my cock—just an inch. Then two. She sucks so sweetly, and I groan, my head rolling back and my eyes along with it.

“Gods. You’re so warm around me. Keep going.”