Page 777 of End Game

Griffin gets himself free, and I have just enough time to look up at him before he guides my mouth onto his cock.

The first push is controlled.

The second less so.

I moan around him.

Dex mutters, “Holy fuck.”

That makes Griffin's hand tighten in my hair.

Apparently he likes an audience too.

Interesting.

My wrists are still bound, resting uselessly against my chest while Griffin controls the movement. I can usually touch him during this. Hold his thighs. Wrap a hand around the base when I need a break.

Now I can't do any of that.

I just take what he gives me.

And apparently my body is very fucking interested in that too.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Ronan says somewhere to my left. “Look at you.”

I close my eyes.

Bad idea.

The second I remove the visual information, Ronan's voice slides deeper into my brain again.

Griffin groans as he pushes farther.

“Fuck, you take him so well.”

My thighs press together.

I feel ridiculous.

Nobody is touching me.

Nobody is even trying to make me come.

Griffin is fucking my mouth while Ronan talks to me, and somehow the same warmth I felt while hanging in the rope starts gathering low and deep again.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Apparently Ronan has created a shortcut.

My breath catches around Griffin, and he immediately pulls back enough to let me breathe.

“You good?”

I nod quickly.

He waits.

“Green,” I manage.