Rival Page 84

“Fallon,” he warned.

“I want to. Please?” I asked softly.

He squeezed his eyes shut and the grip in my hair loosened.

Coming down on him again, I drew him in long and slow, savoring the smell of body wash that made me so hungry. I swayed my tongue from side to side on the underside of him, so he could feel the ball on my tongue. His c**k twitched in my mouth, and I got more eager with the taste of him and his silver. Bringing him in slow, I relaxed my throat, taking in all of him down to the base.

“Babe,” he whispered, sucking in air through his teeth. “You better not have learned this on another guy.”

I drew him out and sucked hard and fast on the tip about ten times before answering. “Tate and I got a book for research last month.”

“Really.” It wasn’t a question. “That’s hot.”

If I knew Madoc, he was probably imagining Tate and me practicing on cucumbers.

She had wanted to do this for Jared, but neither of us had had any experience. Obviously, she wanted to blow his mind, so I suggested watching some  p**n . She gave me a huge “no,” saying she wasn’t watching seedy videos on the Internet. So we went online and bought a book.

I sucked him all of the way into my mouth again, slowly down to the base, and swirled my tongue around him.

Reaching behind him, I pulled his pants down just below his ass and held his h*ps for support as I moved faster up and down his length. My roots stung from where he was fisting my hair. He was fully hard—I hope, because I couldn’t take anymore—as I savored the feel of every inch of his skin.

He groaned and inhaled sharp, fast breaths, and I loved the sight of Madoc worked up. With his face pinched and eyes shut, looking like he was in pain, I had a sudden urge to crawl up his body.

My head was pulled away, and Madoc looked violent.

“Stop,” he gasped. “I want you. But not on this couch.”

Licking my lips, I pinched my eyebrows together in confusion but didn’t push it.

Who the hell cared right now? The couch, the chair, the floor . . .

Grabbing my hand, he pulled me over to one of the other leather couches, swung me around, and brought me down on top, straddling him in his sitting position. His erection rubbed between my legs, and then . . .


He slid both hands into the string of thong at my hip and ripped them clean off.

My panties were gone, and my core pulsed so damn hard that I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

I was uncontrollable. I dove into him, sliding my tongue across his lips and lifting up as he rubbed his tip into my entrance.

“Oh, Madoc,” I panted.

Damn, that felt good.

I held his face in my hands and looked into his eyes, unable to stop grinding on him. “Why did you leave me in here alone that night?” I ventured. I assumed that’s why he was uncomfortable with the other couch. Maybe that was why he hated this room.

“I didn’t mean to.” His eyes were apologetic. “I covered you up,” he breathed out, shutting his eyes with the pleasure of my movement on him, “and went to get a shower. I’d planned on coming back down to wake you up, but by the time I got back, you were gone.”

All this time I thought he’d had his fun and just went up to bed, leaving me.

“I hate this f**king room,” he finished. His mouth closed but then opened again, looking like he wanted to tell me more but didn’t.

I grabbed the remote and turned on the stereo. Lorde’s “Team” came on, and I clutched the leather sofa behind him with both of my hands and lowered myself onto him slow enough to drive him crazy. “I’m going to make you love it again,” I promised.

He filled me up, and I dropped my head back at the feel of him inside of me.

He let out a low growl and hooded his eyes. “I’d like to see you try.”



“There you are,” a voice says behind me, and I tense.

Turning around, I see my stepmother, Patricia, and I don’t hide the frown at seeing her in her short white silk nightie.

Clutching the bottle of water, I slam the refrigerator door shut and try to keep my eyes averted. My head feels staticky from the liquor at the bonfire, but it doesn’t dull the awkwardness of this situation.

Her long blond hair hangs loose, but it looks freshly styled as does her makeup, and her posture isn’t modest. One hand on the kitchen island, another hand on her hip, she sways playfully and smiles.

“Where’s my dad?” I snip.

“Asleep,” she sighs. “In his room. Did you have a good night?”

Why was she being so nice lately?

“Yeah, up until now,” I answer flatly.

I’d just gotten back from a race and a hell of a win against Liam. And I got to see Tatum Brandt race for Jared. Along with the bonfire afterward, it had been an entertaining night.

But I am tired and not in the mood for whatever poison Patricia wants to spew.

I walk around the island, heading out, when she steps in front of me.

“Madoc.” She puts her hand on my chest, and I inch back. “You’ve gotten big with the working out. You look good.” She nods her approval and gives me innocent eyes. “Did you know that your dad’s having an affair?”

Jesus. What the hell?

She definitely isn’t hiding much in that nightie, either. I can see inches of her cle**age and the tan, smooth-looking skin of her arms, legs, and shoulders. Patricia works out a lot and takes care of herself very well with my father’s money. At forty, she looks much younger.

Prev Next