Endgame by Mia Downing Page A

literally by the balls, in her mouth. Divine. He’d be mighty tasty. It was definitely something she could handle and not feel…attached. Maybe she’d feel a little slutty, but that was exciting, too.
    She turned, kissed his bare chest, and the muscles there quivered under her lips. My, oh my, smooth male chest was very nice. Hot salty skin, her tongue sliding down the ripple of his abs, rimming his belly button, down to the waistband of his pajama pants.
    “What are you doing?”
    “You know what I’m doing.” She tugged, only one waistband. He was commando. She slid her hand from his hip, across his groin, through his crisp pubic hair to encircle his shaft at the base. Very fine. His cock stood firm and thick in her hand, and she gave the length a stroke. It probably wouldn’t take long from the way he pressed against her earlier.
    Leaning in, she let her cheek rest above her hand on the satiny-smooth flesh covering hot steel. Her tongue darted up the underside and then she took the head in her mouth. He sucked in a huge breath, filling his lungs from top to bottom. So exciting that she couldn’t see him, only feel his hardness in her mouth, sliding deeper, tongue dancing—
    “No! Stop, please.” He stiffened. Every muscle right down to his cock went hard as a rock and just as still. Not the response she expected. Well, the hardening of the cock, yes, but not the shock.
    She popped him out of her mouth, and he jumped up, away from her. The light snapped on. He shoved his parts back under cover and stood with an odd look on his face, one of…horror?
    Really? Charlotte arched a brow.“Is that not a pleasing option?”
    His chest rose and fell like he’d raced a mile naked down the main strip. He swallowed and stared at her with wide eyes. “Let me get this straight. You’d rather blow me than make love to me?”
    Charlotte shook her head. “I will never make love to you. Fuck you, maybe. But not make love.”
    “Okay.” But he didn’t look one bit sure he agreed. Or understood. Or believed she wasn’t a space alien wanting to suck his soul out through his dick.
    “Is there a problem? I weighed the options, and this is going give us the most desired result. Unless you can come up with something else?”
    He swallowed again, his Adam’s apple slamming up and down. He sat down, but as far from her as he could get in the confines of shoes, umbrellas, and a spare blanket. “Don’t you want to make love? Instead of fuck? I thought fucking was a guy thing.”
    She glared through narrow eyes, squinting him down to millimeters. Why couldn’t he be like any other guy and just say yes to the blowjob? She could line up half of L.A. for this and none of them would think past that to contest making love vs. fucking. Not a one. “You didn’t enjoy my mouth on your cock?”
    His nostrils flared, and his pupils dilated with lust and…fear? Really? “Do you have to be so…brazen?”
    “This isn’t the dark ages. It is what it is. I don’t have time in life to sort out a kind way to call your manly attributes something you would find more pleasing.”
    He gulped. “I just don’t get why we can’t make love. I’m all about the love making.”
    Really. He called his five minute stint of humping that whore lovemaking? She crossed her arms over her chest, not liking the shame creeping into her mind. “I would like to please you, Aaron. Unfortunately, making love isn’t on the table because I have baggage. Jake told you that. And right now, fucking you is also not an option.”
    “Your baggage would rather you blow me.” Confusion reigned supreme on his handsome face. She was starting to feel the same way—confused. A little cheap.
    “No, my baggage would rather I get on a plane and go home. My baggage says that you are the worst thing that could happen to me. I should go over Jake’s head, call Chase and make him pull me. If he knew I was sitting in a closet, contemplating sucking you senseless, I would