Page 27 of Tumbling the Cornerback

“That is way sexier than I expected it to be,” I breathed, diving in for another kiss. He laughed against me, his breath catching between us. I seized the opportunity to deepen things, tasting his tongue and lips, the remnants of our drinks, the cinnamon gum he’d chewed in the car. Lucas made a desperate, needy sound in his throat, tangling his fingers in my hair to hold me still before rolling his hips, pressing his ass against my hard cock. Even through our layers of clothes, it was divine.

I arched up the next time he did it, drawing a shuddering sigh from him. And again, and again, until we were moving together, the kiss more a smear of heat and wet and need than anything now. It didn’t matter that the corner of the coffee table was jabbing my shoulder, or the wood floor was uncomfortable as all fuck. Lucas’s weight atop me, his panting, gasping breath, his hands moving over my hair, my neck, my chest, grabbing at my shoulders—it all made any discomfort worth it.

“Oh god, yeah,” he breathed, throwing his head back when I squeezed his hips, grinding him down on my hard, almost painful, length. “Fuck, I wish we’d taken a minute to take off our pants,” he laugh-sighed.

“Next time,” I promised. Because I wasn’t going to last much longer, not with the way he was moving, the sight he made. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I murmured. “So beautiful.”

Surprise flared in his eyes, his lustful, heated expression flickering before the shock was gone, replaced by desire.

It had been years, close to a decade, since I’d been so damn frantic to orgasm, but with Lucas atop me, working me over, every other thought dissolved in a haze of heat and need, replaced with a pinpoint focus on making him fall apart so I could follow. He gasped and laughed when I lunged up, holding onto him so he wouldn’t fall. I moved us back onto the sofa, pinning him beneath me. At the questioning look on my face, he nodded, whispered, “Please, yes,” and moved against me again.

Hands and mouths came into play, each kiss and touch more desperate than the last. We fumbled the buttons on our jeans, the rasp of zippers lost under panting breath. “Just a sec,” I muttered, pushing up so I could see between us. His cock was thick, blunt-tipped and rosy at the head, a bead of precum leaking down the underside. He was shorter than me, but girthier. My jaw twinged with anticipation; he’d be a stretch to take. Whining, Lucas thrust up into my hand. “Don’t tease,” he ordered throatily. “I’m so close."

“Can I?” I asked, nodding to my own hard length jutting between us.

Lucas pushed up onto his elbows and smirked. “Ginger all the way, huh? I didn’t know you could get freckles there.”

“Hush,” I chuckled. “Can I?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

It took a little maneuvering—that whole thing about height doesn’t matter when you’re laying down is kind of bullshit—but soon enough, we’d figured out a position that let me grasp our cocks together in one hand. Just barely, but still. Both of us leaking like faucets, we were slick and sticky and hot in my grasp. Lucas wiggled beneath me, locking his legs around my thighs, digging his fingers into my biceps, and that was it for me.

For a moment, everything suspended. It was like the instant before I hit a tackle, that breathless, timeless in-between state. Then everything burst into sparks and heat. Hot release coated my fingers, my body bowing against Lucas. His sharp, high gasp was the only sign his own peak was right there. His body went taut, eyes fluttering closed. On a breath, his orgasm broke. Streaks of cum painted his belly and my knuckles, the mess we’d made cooling rapidly on our skin.

Reluctantly, I let us go, both of us oversensitive now but neither wanting to stop touching. He scooted up to rest against the arm of the sofa, uttering a small oof when I carefully lowered myself to lie between his spread thighs, head on his chest and his hand in my hair. “So this evening went way differently than I expected,” he said after what felt like a long time but was really just a few minutes.

“How’d you expect it to go?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “A drink or two, maybe talk about the upcoming fundraiser, bitch a little about how things are going with the nonprofit, you’d be charming, I’d be bitchy, then we’d go our separate ways.” He tilted his chin to peer down at me. “Maybe a kiss.”

I scooted up, moving my head to his shoulder. I brushed a kiss against his prickly jaw and smiled when he shivered. “Maybe?”

“Mmm. To be honest, I couldn’t stop thinking about the other night. But I didn’t want to assume…”

“Lucas—”

“Ooooh, you sound serious.”

“I am. Listen to me: I am interested in seeing where this goes between us, okay? I’m… more than interested, if that’s possible. I want to get to know you better. I want you to know me. And I understand it’s not going to be easy with our jobs and… Well. I was hoping you saw more to me—to us—than physical attraction and having to work together for the nonprofit.”

Lucas stared at me so quietly, for so long, something inside me shriveled. My neck felt hot with embarrassment. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and started to move off him.

“Wait.”

His legs gripped around my hips so tightly I couldn’t move.

“I want to find out too.”

“Yeah?”

Tentatively, he smiled, relaxing his grip on my hips, and nodded. “Yeah.”

CHAPTER 9

LUCAS

Coop: So, when are you going to let me give you that book? I still have the bags.

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