Rock (Hard Rock Harlots #4) by Kendall Grey Read Free Book Online

awkward angle, wielding his dick. “That’s it, baby. Right here.” He scoots left, then right, then left again as if he’s trying to anticipate my trajectory.
    I open wide. The closer I get to the bottom, the faster I go, until …
    CRASH!
    I barrel into him with my gaping mouth. Shades loses his balance. The impact knocks him backward. I gag and choke as I’m impaled, and my jaw reacts by clamping shut. On his cock.
    He howls, and I hock up a slab of raw man meat. “Shit!” I didn’t bite it off, but I probably bruised it pretty good. He contracts into a fetal position, clutching his nuts and probably trying really hard to hold onto his dinner too. I sit up. We’re both covered in wood chips, some of which took up residence in my mouth. I spit splinters out and reach for him. “Let me see.”
    Knees to his chin, Shades rolls on the ground like an overturned cockroach, moaning, huffing, cursing. I know I’m a terrible person for this, but it’s hard for me not to laugh, especially since I’m still a little mad at him. I mean, I get the whole I’m-trying-to-figure-out-what-the-hell-is-happening-with-this-kid thing, but it serves him right for fucking another woman, even if it was a year ago and we weren’t together at the time.
    God, I’m hormonal.
    And no, this is not my biological clock ticking. It’s like sperm competition. Except the opposite. Egg competition? Minus the testicular fertilizer, maybe.
    No, it’s not hormones or egg competition. It’s jealousy.
    Which is ridiculous. I’ve never been jealous of anyone. No reason to be. Look how fucking awesome I am!
    I tame Shades’s fauxhawk with a gentle pat. Jeez, I gotta pull my head out of my ass about this crap. I love Shades. The rest shouldn’t matter. “You okay?”
    “I think God cursed us,” he ekes out between pants.
    “What, for trying to get it on at a playground?” I laugh. Well, if there ever was a reason to go to hell, shooting your load all over a place where little kids conduct their black market candy activities might be a good one. But it’s not like we planned to leave any presents wrapped in coital fluids in someone’s desk or anything. “Fuck that. Third time’s the charm. Get your ass up, and let’s try the swings.”
    “You’re killing me, Letty.” He rolls to his side and takes his sweet time sitting up.
    “Focus on the heady combination of pleasure and pain.” I stand and dust the wood chips from my skirt; then I tilt my kilt up and slide the thong left so he can mentally snap a close-up of my cooch.
    He fixates on my chakra of power. I grasp the edge of the fabric’s pleats, pumping a couple of times, and fan some of my scent his way. He dives his face into me. I commandeer a fistful of hair and use it as a rein to ensure he gets me just right. Little to the left … ah. THERE.
    His studded tongue roughs my clit for a few exaggerated breaths. I tighten my grip and guide his head, signaling him to go slower. Bowing at my feet, he dips into my slit with the gentle sincerity of an apology. He diddles around those sugar walls with long, sated laps. He’s anything but sated, but he knows he’d better obey me if he wants his way later.
    My thighs spread wider to give him deeper access. I rest my back against one of the slide’s supports, pull up a leg, and let him feast. Kisses sound off down there, and I imagine we’re christening the stage as we usually do before a big gig, except this time, the performance isn’t just for Shades. It’s for Eliza too. I wish she were here so I could prove to her Shades is all fucking mine.
    It takes everything I’ve got to keep from grinding my cunt hard enough to suffocate him. This delicate balance between rough and soft, hard and light, fast and slow is one we’ve walked for months. Usually, there’s urgency to our fucking. We’re trying not to get caught in an alley or a beach or a parking lot somewhere. I don’t know if it’s the uniform tricking me into believing