Craving The Wrong Brother (Sloane and Knox) novel Chapter 37

CHAPTER 037: On My Face

I stare at him.

Knox is sitting at the edge of the bed, his dick hard and glistening, his eyes fixed on me.

I know what he wants me to do. I know what I want too–my body still aches with the emptiness he left in me, a slow, smoldering burn where his fingers and length had been.

“Can we talk about this afterwards?” I ask, trying to bargain the only way my faltering senses allow

He smiles. “No.”

Then he bends and starts peeling his shoes off, letting each fall with a dull thud against the hardwood floor. His socks follow. His fingers go to his pants next, sliding them down, taking his boxers with them, never once standing. For the first time, I catch a glimpse of his thighs. Muscular, with veins mapping their way down to his calves. Once the pants and boxers are on the floor, he pinches the condom, takes it off, ties it, and tosses it to the floor beside the heap of clothes.

I don’t once look away. My eyes are stuck to the thick length between his legs, the way it twitches. The veins. My core clenches.

I pull my shirt over my head and toss it at him. It lands on his pants. Next go the unclasped bra, the shorts and panties still tangled around my thighs. Then my shoes. I stand there, bare and breathing heavily.

His gaze moves down my body, lingering on my breasts, the curves of my hips. He bites his lower lip.

“You’re really going to make me choose?” I ask.

“I am.”

“If I say no, you’re going to let me walk out?”

“I am,” he repeats.

I glance at his erection. “You’re just going to waste that?”

“I’ll jerk off imagining I was inside you.”

“You’re blackmailing me.”

He leans back slightly, bracing himself on his palms. “You have a choice. Do you want a steady supply of good sex, or do you want to go back to my brother? There are a thousand things I could teach you. Pleasurable things. All you have to do is say you’re mine.”

My breathing turns shallow.

He makes it sound simple. But my head is spinning.

Finn chose Delilah. He didn’t even hesitate. And yet here I am, hesitating over a man who’s offering me everything he is- even if it comes wrapped in sharp edges and trouble. What would I even be doing if I wasn’t worrying about Finn? I don’t exactly have a long list of people lining up to hang out with me. My sister moved out months ago, moved in with a guy who looks like a blond in photos but who she insists is ginger. I see my parents once a month. My whole social life is… Finn. Knox leans sideways, reaching for the drawer beside the bed. The motion is smooth, unhurried. He doesn’t even look away from me as his hand slips inside and pulls out a small bottle.

Clear. Familiar.

Lubricant.

He pops the cap with a soft click, tips it, and squeezes a slow line of gel into his palm. Then he tosses the bottle back into the drawer and shuts it with his leg.

His fingers close around himself, and then-

He begins to stroke.

I can’t look away.

His hand glides down his shaft with practiced ease, spreading the slickness. His fingers wrap tighter on the upstroke, twisting at the top, teasing the head. Again. And again. And again. Every motion is purposeful. Meant to tease. Meant to torment. His breathing is steady. His body, relaxed. But the tension in the room is anything but.

Every pump of his hand is a silent command.

And I feel it everywhere.

In the pit of my stomach.

In the pulse between my legs.

Successfully unlocked!

My thighs press together, trying to relieve the ache building between them. But it doesn’t help. It only makes it worse.

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CHAPTER 037: On My Face

He doesn’t say a word. Just watches me with that expression he wears so well–half control, half hunger. He keeps going. Up. Down, Slow twist. A grunt escapes his throat–barely–but it hits me in the gut.

I want to touch him. Want to take over. But I stay frozen.

“I’d rather be inside you right now,” he finally says.

I lick my lips. “I want that too.”

“Then come to me, Sloane. Or when I cum, the window’s closed,”

“Knox…”

“Come on, Kitten.”

The way he says that–Kitten–makes something flutter low in my belly, I drop to my hands and knees, each breath catching as I start to crawl.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand still pumping.