“I’m sorry?” I breathe in. I actually am. That’s the sad thing.
“How sorry?” His mouth travels along my jawline to my ear.
“Probably not as sorry as you want me to be.”
“Good answer.” He nudges me back until I’m lying flat on the bed and leans over me. “I’m mad at you, you know.”
“What did I do now?”
He flicks his tongue against my neck and it moves downwards in tiny, spiraling circles. “While I appreciate the best blow job of my life and never plan to turn you down ever again, I’m pissed you didn’t let me return the favor.”
He slides his hand beneath my shirt and pinches my nipple through my bra. I gasp at the rough sensation.
“You weren’t supposed to return it,” I breathe as he finds the button to my jeans.
“I gathered. Now, though, I’m going to, and I’m going to return it good.” He kisses my stomach hotly and tugs my jeans hard. He stands, pulls off my boots and jeans, and gets back onto his knees.
I look down, adrenaline thrumming through my veins as his dark eyes meet mine.
“Spread these legs, beauty,” he murmurs, his words vibrating against my skin. He slides his hands up my thighs and parts them slowly. “I’m going to lick your gorgeous pussy until your taste is branded onto my fucking tongue.”
And he slips two fingers beneath my panties, moves them to the side, and runs his tongue along me in a long, hard sweep. I gasp. He pins my hips to the bed, his tongue working every bit of my aching core.
His movements are rough and harsh yet so tender at the same time, every nibble followed by a soft lick. Every pressured rub of my clit is followed by a gentle suck, the contradictory feelings and sensations building and climbing…
…and climbing…
…and climbing…
…until they hit their peak and his tongue presses against me and heat floods my body and pleasure stings my eyes and I cry out.
His mouth covers me, his tongue massaging my opening until I’m silent, trembling, gasping.
He replaces my underwear and slides up my body. With a smirk, he closes his lips over mine. I can taste myself on him, but I’m too spent to move, to turn away. So I let him kiss me. Let him spread my own wetness over my lips. Let him kiss me and tease me until I’m aching with the promise of a new orgasm.
Tyler’s hands curve beneath my ass and cup it, his fingers curling around it, squeezing. He shifts me up the bed and hooks my legs over his hips. His erection pushes against me, hard and ready. The pressure it’s putting on the zipper of his jeans is central to my core and rubs my clit as he leans into me.
I curl my fingers in the soft material of his shirt, ready to lift it up his torso and over his head, and then—
“Ty? Are you here? Liv?”
Tyler drops his forehead against mine and growls. “Fucking hell.”
I swallow my giggle. “You invited her to stay with you.”
“I’m a stupid twat,” he mutters, kissing me hard. “Put your clothes on,” he says, getting up.
“Second time in two days? I’m unimpressed, I admit.”
He yanks me to standing and shoves my jeans at me. “What can I say? My sister is a giant cock-block.”
I smile and perch back on the bed to get dressed. I’m just buttoning my jeans when I hear Tyler say, “I’m moving in with Liv.”
“I’m sorry, what?!” I shriek, running out of his room in my socks.
Tessa is staring at us both, her eyes wide. “Wow. That escalated quickly.”
“Yeah. No fucking kidding.” I’m sure my eyes are as wide as hers.
“Jesus, you’re like a pair of bloody Bambis.” He shakes his head. “Liv, I’m staying at yours until my sister leaves.”
“Um, since when?”
“Since it’s clear she’s going to interrupt us.”
“Tyler!” I gasp.
“Oookay,” Tessa laughs out. “Really, Ty, I can stay somewhere else. It’s not a big deal. Day offered me her house if I want it.”
“No. You’re my sister and you’ll stay in my apartment. I’ll stay with Liv.”
She looks at him flatly. “Just so you can get regular sex? Really?”
“Regular, uninterrupted sex,” he corrects, boiling the kettle. “I’m not fifteen anymore. It’s not like a wank while looking through the pages of Playboy will get me off now.”
“I am not having this conversation with you!” She holds up her hands and glances at me. “Okay, I’m going to go to my room and let you two talk because your poor girlfriend looks like she’s been hit with a fucking lorry.”
She leaves us both in the kitchen. Tyler continues to make his tea, apparently completely oblivious to my staring a hole in the back of his head.
Move in with me?
“Just while she’s here,” he says. Apparently, I said that out loud.
“I’m not… I’m not sure how I feel about that.” I swallow.
No. I know. I don’t like it. At all. His things in my apartment?
“You look like you’re shitting out a watermelon.”
“You’re not reassuring me at all, in case you were wondering.” I walk into the living room and sit on the sofa. I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs.
Tyler sits next to me and puts his legs on the table in front of us. He takes a sip of his tea before he speaks. “I was actually kidding.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Okay. I wasn’t.” He shrugs and puts the mug down. “I just didn’t think you’d freak out quite that much. Sex on tap. Can’t be that bad.”
How am I supposed to say out loud that it’s not the sex thing that bothers me, but the fact that he’ll be there all the time? In my bathroom. In my shower. On my sofa. At my kitchen table. In my bed. In my parking slot, probably.
Every second of every day. He’ll be there. Always.
“Fucking hell,” he groans. “By the look on your face, you’d think you didn’t want me to be anywhere near you.”
I dive my hands into my hair. Where are my words? Hello, brain-to-mouth filter? Now would be a great time to fuck off.
“And now I’m thinking I could be right.”
“No!” I finally blurt. I look up at him and hate what I see in his eyes. There’s a vulnerability there. Hurt. Something that shouldn’t be there. “That’s not the problem. The problem is that I do want you there. All the time. But that isn’t a good idea.”