Page 167

It’s not just chemical, though.

With Wicker, sex is always weirdly akin to a fight. Our bodies have these arguments. It’s hard and fast, a bit breathtaking, and always leaves me feeling either exhausted or exhilarated. Never any in between. That’s how it is with him; one extreme or another, with no chance to feel grounded.

With Lex, it’s this constantly confusing duality between cold, detached procedure and primal, aggressive passion. Our bodies don’t argue, and maybe that’s the most terrifying of all. How much I want him like that, on an unavoidably fundamental level. The woman inside of me recognizes the man in him, and shewants.

But Pace…

He winds his fingers in my hair, using the grip to fuck softly into my mouth. “That’s my good girl.”

Pace makes me mindless.

I don’t have to think when I’m with him like this, because he’ll tell me what to do. It was only a few weeks ago that such a thought made me furious and defiant. Now, I’m beginning to learn where my defiance is best suited.

Not here.

Not with the taste of Pace so salty on my tongue, the feel of his fingertips against my scalp, the sound of his soft sigh when my tongue slithers around the head of his cock. It’s the only time I fully let myself enjoy it. The sense of responsibility I feel with Lex, and the urge to push and pull with Wicker, is replaced with something else when I’m with Pace. It’s inevitability. I’m just doing what I’m told. Nothing more, nothing less.

It’s the first time Pace has been in my room like this, in my bed. Inexplicably, even though we’ve been at this for well over two hours, he still looks like he just came in from outside. He’s fully dressed, still wearing his shoes, hoodie pulled up. Even his dark wash jeans are barely pulled down, his cock spearing out of the spread zipper like it’s part of the whole outfit. He looked troubled when he first came in here, ordering me out of my clothes and flopping down onto the bed. Although, with one arm bent, temple resting on his fist, and the other hand running up and down my jaw, he does look awfully comfortable.

“Get me closer,” he tells me, lids heavy.

I’ve been suckling passively since he came in, once even nodding off with my head resting on his thigh. There’s something soothing about these moments. A quiet calm. But with Pace, that never lasts.

Rising to my knees, I switch tactics, ghosting my hands over his balls and tugging at his shaft. I’ve gotten to knowthiscock better than any of them. Each vein, every inch of silky smooth shaft, the exact texture of his pubic hair. His hips lift, chasing my mouth, and I let him catch it, his fingers twisting around my hair to control my motions. When his cock thickens, growing between my lips, I use my tongue to cover the surface—to taste every inch of him.

It hits me just how wet I’ve gotten.

“What happens when you leave on Thursdays?” he asks suddenly.

I look up, cock still in my mouth, unsure if he really wants me to stop and answer. With his hood obstructing the glow of the sconce above us, his face is stonily shadowed, impossible to decipher.

He cups my chin and thumbs it open.

An assent.

I don’t go far, letting the tip rest on my bottom lip when I answer. “I go to Family Dinner.” He raises an eyebrow, indicating he needs more. “It’s a tradition. The guys carb-load before the Fury. The cutsluts dress up and fix dinner.” I shrug. “It’s fun. Familiar.”

He grabs the base of his cock, rubbing–teasing–the head over my lip. “Doesn’t sound anything like our family dinners.”

With Ashby?No, I suppose not.

“So you eat,” he says, continuing to rub saliva and salty precum onto my lips like lipgloss. “Then what? You watch Bruin and Perilini jerk each other off while Maddox howls at the moon?”

I hold back a frown, swallowing my instinctual defense of the Dukes. There’s a pointed comment that could easily be made about the Ashby brothers being the ones who don’t seem to have any personal boundaries with each other.

I don’t make that comment.

Instead, I focus on nudging his cock with my mouth. “Sometimes the guys have a meeting afterwards. I don’t know. The girls are usually cleaning up or prepping for the matches.”

His dark eyes track his cock as he thumps it gently against my lip. “Isn’t it weird going back now?” he asks, eyes flicking up to mine. They harden. “With everyone knowing you’re a traitor?”

Abruptly, an awareness surfaces like a glowing buoy.

He’s baiting me.

I know it’s easier if I just work to keep him even, so I lick out, catching the tip. “I won’t pretend it’s not complicated or that there aren’t a few people pissed about it.” Including my mother. “But it’s all I know. That’s how I was raised.”

“I guess they’re used to harboring people they can’t trust,” he muses, hips rocking up. His cock stutters wetly against my cheek “They brought in a Lucia, after all.”