Brooke pulled away from the kiss. Her mouth—wet, glossy with wine residue. Ethan's eyes, yeah, they were burning now. His breath ragged. She saw the bulge, obviously. Smirk came back, dangerous.
"Poor thing," she whispered, voice low and thick. "Looks awfully uncomfortable. Let me help that, shall I?"
No rush. Torturous slow, she got his belt unbuckled. Zipper hiss. Her fingers grazed him—just the lightest touch—and a heavy, animal groan pulled itself from Ethan's chest. Brooke got her hands under the boxers, pulling everything down. His cock sprang free. Throbbing. Massive.
"Mmm. Big boy," she teased, wrapping her fingers around the shaft. "Let's make you feel much better."
She leaned in. Hot breath on his skin. Started at the root, tongue tracing, swirling around the tip. Ethan yanked a sharp breath—hands fisted in her hair, tight. She took him in, mouth stretching, tongue attacking every ridge.
