Page 27 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

THE TRUTH ABOUT SIXTY-NINE

Axel

But I can’t have that ground-rules talk when I wake up—my mouth is rightfully occupied.

Soon, I can barely breathe, but I’m not stopping. I’ll scuba dive without oxygen until she comes.

It’s early in the morning, she’s grabbing my head in a vise grip, squeezing my face with her thighs, fucking my mouth with her pussy.

There is no air, but who cares if I go blue? Best way to die.

Hazel is seconds away from coming on my mouth as I devour her sweet, hot center. Then, with several concentrated, devoted flicks of my tongue, I elicit a glorious Oh god, yes , as she shudders and cries out.

Somehow, she grips my face even tighter as she climaxes. But book heroes are undeterred by little obstacles like insufficient oxygen. I lick her till she gently pushes me away.

“Damn, woman, were you trying to kill me through cunnilingus?” I ask, as I move up next to her.

With a long exhale, she says, “That sounds like something that might happen in one of your sex scenes.”

“Please. The hero would get lockjaw, be unable to argue his way out of a situation with Interpol, and wind up in jail.”

“But of course,” she says, then sighs again as she runs a hand through her hair, savoring her post-sex high. I’d like to take that sound and bottle it. Take hits of it when I need a shot of adrenaline, a boost of extra confidence.

“My heroes’ sex injuries always drive the plot.” Like the time the pulled muscle from a shower-bang made it harder for the hero to grab onto the back of a rickety old truck absconding with stolen antiques.

“Didn’t some reviewer once say your sex scenes are weirdly realistic and somehow still ridiculously hot ?”

I grin, clucking my tongue. “That’s me.”

She laughs, then she sets a hand on my chest. “But I guess I’m not such a great villain if you’re still alive.”

“Alive and horny. Also, feel free to kill me anytime with your pussy.”

“Sorry not sorry. I just kind of got into it.”

“Kind of?” I ask, arching a brow.

“You really like teasing me,” she observes, then pushes up on her elbows. “While you were down there not dying , I was almost going to ask you to fuck my face at the same time, but then I remembered something.”

“That sixty-nine sucks?”

She beams. “Yes! Sixty-nine is the worst. What is the point?”

“It’s selfish,” I say, stating the obvious. “Just tap out. Tap in.”

“Exactly. Oral sex doesn’t need to be multitasked. I don’t write better if you eat me while I write,” she says.

“Wait. Was that an option? Will you suck my dick while I write? Because I’d be willing to try that,” I offer, like the generous fucker I am.

Hazel smiles wickedly. “Get out your laptop and see.”

I shake my head. “You know what I really want to see?”

She bites the corner of her lip, a sexy, come-hither move. “Me on my knees, taking your cock deep in my throat?”

I shudder. She is going to kill me with sex appeal. I just know it. She’s everything I’ve craved—a feisty, fiery, smart, relentless woman.

But I can’t think about how right she is for me.

I should only think about how right she looks as she slides off the bed, kneels on the floor, and wraps a hand around the base of my cock. Then she licks the head, and I nearly fly off the mattress.

That’ll do. That’ll definitely keep me in the sex moment.

“That’s right, baby. Take me deeper,” I urge. I know my girl likes dirty words. She likes a commanding man who understands how busy the freeways are in her head.

And since she’s in her head all the time, I’m pretty sure that’s why she needs to feel the rawness, the realness of sex.

That’s what I can give her. “Play with my balls,” I tell her.

She obliges, cupping them, rolling them in her nimble hands. My skin sizzles.

“Yes, fucking yes.” I run my fingers through her hair, urging her to take more of my dick. “Open wider, baby.”

She obeys, lavishing deep, adoring sucks on my shaft. Then she coughs, but she shakes her head to say she won’t stop. She’ll keep going, and she does till my world blurs away, and I lose my mind to her mouth, her hands, her eager tongue.

Then, on a grunt, I come. It’s mind-bending, but a little less surreal than yesterday. Less surreal because it’s more real.

More authentic.

We’re coming together in the sunlight.

We’re not backing away from the intimacy.

We’re seeking it again and again.

That brings a new level of risk to our rekindled friendship. It’s hard to have sex without feelings messing everything up. We’re going to need those ground rules really fucking soon.

But when she crawls onto my lap, wraps her arms around my neck, and kisses me, I don’t want to talk. I want to enjoy .

She kisses me, a firm, quick kiss. “Sixty-nine sucks,” she says.

“We’re on the same page,” I say, then run my fingers along her cheek, enjoying this stolen chance to touch her.

“We sure are,” she whispers softly.

I want to believe she’s looking at me and seeing more than just sex. But I know stories only unfold like that in books.

This is reality, and I can’t get lost in these moments. I take a deep breath, steadying myself for a dose of reality. “Let’s get dressed and then talk,” I say.

But once we’re dressed, there’s a knock on the door.

“Hey there. Almost time for the reader brunch before we arrive in Barcelona,” Amy says cheerily.

Oh, shit.

We need to go play hosts.

Ground rules will have to come later.