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The way the word ‘fuck’ rolls off his tongue is less than reassuring. My inner thighs clamp close. “Please…”

His hands clamp down on each thigh, and his thumbs dip down between the gap, sweeping upward. “It’ll be a lot more fun if you don’t fight it.”

His grip loosens just a little. His touch is softer. The burn in my lower belly flickers and flares. I’m not ready when he drags my hips to the edge of the bed and drops to his knees. “What are you doing?”

“I told you, Kitten, I just want to taste you.”

His lips burn into the flesh of my inner thigh, licking and sucking. He makes his way to the crux of my legs, and I jolt when he touches me, thumb swiping against my heat. I hear a laugh. “I think you protested a little too much.”

Every muscle in my body tenses, and the heat that spreads across my skin is one of humiliation. It’s one thing for Miller to toy with me. It’s something else for him to know…

That I’m wet.

That he turns me on.

That I’m afraid that I’m just as sick and depraved as he is.

The self-flagellation ends when his warm breath blows over me, and his tongue, flat and slow, swipes along my pussy. My body shudders. Instinctive and pure. Belly twisting with want.

“Royer ever eat you out, Kitten?” I feel his eyes on me, but I keep mine clamped shut. “He ever make you feel good like this?”

He flicks his tongue over my nub, catching a rhythm, then abruptly stops.

“Did he?” he asks again.

I open my eyes and see him staring at me with his own liquid blue ones boring back. He’s handsome as sin. Mouth wet and slick. His eyebrow is cocked in question. It’s obvious he’s not going to continue until I answer, and I should use the opportunity to run, to get the hell out of here, but desire burns in my skin. Tickles in my belly. Beats in my chest.

“No,” I tell him. “He said it’s gross.”

He licks his bottom lip, tasting me. “He’s missing out. God, you taste good.” His tongue flicks again, drawing me back into a trance. I didn’t know a man could want you like that. I thought it was something they did out of obligation—or to get what they want. Miller’s hungry sounds make my thighs fall wider apart, and my hips rise to meet him.

He sucks me in, laughing against my clit. “No wonder you’re so pent up. So bitchy. You’re horny as fuck.”

Caught somewhere between his mouth, my body, and my brain, I realize that’s what this is all about. Messing with Royer. Getting me off because Royer didn’t. It rubs me the wrong way, but it doesn’t matter because Miller’s tongue is rubbing me all kinds of the right way. As much as I try not to, I hum from the feel of his mouth, reaching out and grabbing the back of his neck to pull him closer. My legs clamp around his ears and Iride his mouth, rutting against him, seeking the friction and wetness and heat until I’m on the pinpoint, shattering around him.

“Oh my god,” I breathe, writhing against his mouth, bucking into him with pulsing energy surging through every nerve and inch of my skin. We stay this way until the feeling dissipates, leaving me spent and limp.

Fucking hell, I think, staring up at the cracked ceiling. Miller Hansen just rocked my world.

Blissed out, I don’t move as he steps back, taking his heat with him. I should cover myself. I should be ashamed, but all I feel is warm all over. I’m trying to get my arms and legs to cooperate when I hear the metal tines on his zipper. I look up and see him standing over me, cock hard in his hand. He strokes up and down the length, the muscles in his forearm tense.

It’s the third time I’ve seen Miller come, and I’m starting to recognize the signs of when he’s close. His forehead creases, and his eyelids get heavy. His breath grows ragged, mingled with a deep rumble in his chest. His cock is thick, swelling fat and long in his hand, and the way he moves—it’s obvious he’s done this many times before. He’s an expert, pushing and pulling at the skin, the muscle underneath. I should be disgusted.

I’m enthralled.

I sit up to get a better view, but his hand shoots out and pushes me back.

“Lie back, Kitten,” he bites out, the cords of his neck strain as he gets closer. The muscles in his lower abdomen cave and tense. Miller straddles my legs and gives his cock one last tug, then bucks forward, groaning.

Cum shoots forward, hot and sticky, landing on my belly and chest, in thick ropey spurts. He milks it until there’s nothing left, just the shiny, red tip. There’s no noise in the room other than his breathing. The numbness has left my limbs, and all I feel his semen pooling on my belly.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, “every time is better.” He grins up at me. “Don’t you think?”

“I think you’re crazy,” I blurt. It’s the truth.

He grabs his shirt off the floor and wipes his cock. Then bends over me and cleans off my skin with a disturbing gentleness.

“You like it, Kitten. Your pussy was sloppy wet, and I felt you quiver on my tongue.”