Page 167 of Devious Obsession
I open my mouth to reply, but he’s already leaning down to kiss my lips. Myotherlips. And what comes out of my mouth instead of words is some nonsense sigh.
He wastes no time, going directly to my clit. I gasp and buck when he tongues my sensitive bud. All of his focus isright there.
His grip on my thighs keeps my legs spread wide. He growls and laps at me, then sucks it into his mouth. Hard.
I tip my head back, hitting it on the window, and cry out. My hips won’t stop moving, not that he gives a shit. In fact, the more forcefully I try to press my pussy into his face, the harder he treats my clit. Until he scrapes it with his teeth and flicks just the tip of it with his tongue—and I fucking shatter.
I scream his name, digging my nails into the seat. He continues to lick me, going down farther and plunging his tongue inside me. Absorbing the way my muscles immediately clench at him. It pushes my pleasure on and on, a rolling wave of bliss, until I’ve completely sagged backward.
“Wow,” I murmur.
He smirks at me, picking up my leg by my ankle and pressing a kiss to it. Then he puts it back where it belongs and restarts the car. He tugs the front of my dress down, covering me before he pulls back out onto the highway.
I can’t even move for a long moment.
We’ve gone maybe ten minutes before I sit up and snag my panties, where they’re still hanging from his gear stick. He chuckles, glancing at me while I wriggle them back in place. Then fixing my dress in the back, too.
Jeez.
And then I realize where we’re going.
The restaurant on the point.
I eye Steele, who just smiles at me.
“What?” he questions. Soundingwaytoo innocent for the shit-eating grin that’s overtaking his face.
I scoff and climb out of the car. Quick hair and makeup check in my reflection, confirming that the blow job tears didn’t ruin my eyeliner, and his hand on the back of my head didn’t cause unnecessary sex hair, and then I’m ready. I loop my arm in his and let him lead me inside.
We go through the main dining room and into the room we ate lunch in that day… the day when everything went to shit. My footsteps automatically slow, and Steele glances down at me.
“Don’t chicken out on me now, little viper.”
The nickname gives me a modicum of resolve. I throw back my shoulders and march with him down the steps and around the corner.
To where our parents wait.
I slam to a halt.
While we’ve seen more of them, Steele and I have avoided seeing themtogether. As in, Mom will bring the girls to see me at school between classes, or we’ll go to a movie together, but Stephen and Steele don’t attend. Or Steele will go over their house and watch my sisters for an hour or two, but it’s always when I have class or practice.
The few times I’ve seen Steele’s dad has been awkward. I don’t know what to say to him. My dad told him Steele and I were intimate, and I don’t know if he’s just been choosing to ignore it or forgot—or thought it was a lie.
I drop Steele’s arm like it’s on fire, but he just laughs and puts that same arm around my shoulders.
“You’re not getting out of this one,” he says in my ear. “You think you can marry me and not tell your mother?”
I wince.
I mean…yeah, sure. He has a point. But I also was just hoping to avoid the whole messy situation by waiting until Steele was famous, we were graduated, and living in some fancy house in the city of our choosing before getting married.
Obviously, Steele wouldn’t want to wait that long—and I don’t think he believes in cowardice.
“Hi, honey,” Mom calls, circling around the table and hugging me.
It’s too similar to the last time we did this, just the four of us. When they threatened to lock me up…
“Aspen.” Stephen reaches to hug me, too. He wraps his arms around my shoulders.
