Page 18 of Drown in You

“I’ll have you know, I’m great at riding cock, and I’ll definitely have you on one knee proposing by the end of the night.”

“Prove it.”

Before I can say another word, he grabs my ass and hoists me into the air. I squeal as he tosses me onto the bed.

He doesn’t follow me. Instead, he takes off his pants and boxers, and it’s my turn to watch every move he makes.

When he’s fully naked in front of me, my mouth goes dry. Yeah, there’s no way he’s getting every inch inside of me. I’m a nursing student—I know the vagina only stretches to a maximum of eight inches when aroused.

But he can damn well try.

He climbs onto the bed with me, but he doesn’t rip my panties off and slam inside me. Not yet. His enormous hands tug my strapless bra up over my head, and his throat bobs when he stares at my tits.

Why does every look from this man light me on fire?

He shakes his head. “I can’t believe you almost didn’t let me see you like this.” His murmur is the quietest I’ve heard him yet. “You’re more than a pretty sight. Way, way fucking more.”

My turn to swallow the lump in my throat.

He sits with his back against the headboard and pulls me onto his lap to straddle him. But he’s still not ready to fuck me. His hands drift lazily up to my breasts as if we have all the time in the world and not one night together. When he squeezes my tits, I gasp and he bites his lip. “Mmm. These are incredible.”

A man has never revered my body like this. I’m starting to realize the stranger I invited up to my room may not be like any other man I’ve ever met.

Sometimes, I imagine meeting Ten would go something like this. I have no idea what he looks like beneath his mask or if we’d even get along in person as well as we get along through text, but when it’s just me and my vibrator, I like to imagine Ten and I would finally meet in person, he’d be the most attractive man I’d ever seen, and we’d find somewhere semi-private to fuck each other’s brains out. Not that I’d ever admit that to him. We’re friends and that’s all we’ve ever been. We’ve never turned our conversations sexual or even romantic. Though we’ve never explicitly discussed why, we both value our friendship more than sexting and neither of us wants to do anything to screw it up.

Except I haven’t heard from him since I mentioned my father’s wedding and I’m starting to wonder if I did something to piss him off. He never goes more than twenty-four hours without responding to me, even during hockey season. But I can’t shake the feeling that he’s ignoring me, and I don’t know what I did wrong or how to fix it.

The man I’m straddling wraps his lips around my hard nipple and I shove thoughts of Ten out of my head. I can’t be thinking of him when I’m literally about to fuck another guy.

He sucks my nipple, making my eyes roll as I claw at his hair. “I can’t wait to taste you everywhere.”

Holy shit. Every word out of this man’s mouth turns me to molten lava. “You don’t have to do that,” I gasp. “I’m plenty wet.”

“I know you are,” he growls, grinding my pussy against his cock, my panties the only thing separating us. I cry out when his tip hits my clit. Yeah, it’s not going to take me long to come at all. Not with him. “But I want you dripping for me.”

I rock my hips, desperate to relieve the growing ache between my legs. “Do whatever you want,” I pant before quickly adding, “Within reason. I mean?—”

Thank god, he stops my blabbering, flipping me onto my back and kissing, sucking, and nibbling his way slowly down my body like he’s entranced by every inch. I jerk and writhe beneath him.

When his head is between my thighs, he murmurs, “You’re going to love this, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. It’s not good girl, but it’s somehow better. Especially with that slight Southern accent, barely noticeable for anyone not fixated on his every sound. Or maybe every word out of this man’s mouth is better by default. He could probably read a grocery list and turn me on.

“You seriously don’t have to,” I offer one last time.

Most guys like to get in and get out during a hookup, especially a one-time thing like this. Guys only care about getting you off if they care about you, and most of them don’t have the patience or the endurance to go down on a girl long enough to make her come. Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s always taken me forever to get there because no man has ever turned me on this much before.

His brows furrow now, but he keeps his head between my legs, the flimsy fabric of my panties the only layer separating us. “You’re not making me. I want to lick your pussy until you come.”

My god. Why can’t every man be as direct and pornographic as this one? Thank god he’s the one I met at the hotel bar tonight and not some other schmuck who would have no doubt disappointed me.

While his fingers trace my panty line, making me gulp, his eyes blaze. “Are you going to try to stop me again? Or are you going to be a good girl and take it?”

I shake my head quickly. “I’m not going to stop you.”

Some crazy part of me trusts him enough to tell him he can do whatever he wants to me, but the much smaller, smarter part of my brain chastises the horny part for even considering it.

If this was more than a one-night stand, maybe I would. If he was my fuck buddy, I’d be on his cock three times a day, just to experience all the different ways he would fuck me. After the way he kissed my bruises and demanded to know who left them on my body, he might even be boyfriend material. If that’s something I wanted.

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