His resounding “mmm” is muffled against my neck as his tongue traces up and down the length. I tilt my head to the side to give him easier access when I lift my eyes to meet a set of icy blues across the room. Silas looks pissed. Anger is etched deeply into his skin as a fist clenches at his side, his other hand gripping the Solo cup so tight it’s crunched against his palm. Is someone jealous?
