Page 25 of Mensa's Match

With a deep breath, I reminded him, “I still haven’t heard a question, Mensa.”

“Do you want to sleep? Or do you want me to fuck you hard enough that youhaveto go to sleep?”

“Does the latter involve kissing and you fucking me more than once?” I asked.

“As long as we’re on the same page, definitely.”

I ran my free hand into the hair at the side of his head. “I’m not going to sleep… and neither are you.” Then I leaned up and pressed my lips to his.

The moment we kissed felt like pure magic. Surprise, joy, wonder, and the certainty that I didn’t want it to end.

He drew in a sharp breath and leaned into me. I went along with his lean, but kept my hand in his hair, which helped to keep his lips locked with mine.

Once my head hit the pillow it was like he realized what I’d done. He swung his hips to the right, forcing my legs to spread, and he fell through. The bulge of his erection tested my self-restraint because I wanted to buck my hips something fierce.

I touched my tongue to his lips. He groaned and opened his mouth. Rather than let me in, he pushed his way inside my mouth.

My free arm rounded his bare torso and glided along his back. He had defined muscles there, and I couldn’t wait to see those dips and valleys in the light.

That felt like a record scratch.

It can’t mean anything.

Would I get to see him in the daylight? Hell, would I get to see himat all?

If this was it, I would damn sure make the most of it.

I pulled free from the kiss. “Lights.”

“What?” he hissed.

“Lights. I want to see you because you’re determined to get me out of your so-called system.”

He chuckled. “‘So-called’? What’s that mean?”

I shoved a hand into his boxer-briefs. “Don’t worry about that. Hit the freaking light.”

“Goddamn, you’re bossy,” he complained.

“Genius, you ain’t seen nothing yet, then again, it’s still dark in here.”

He leaned away, but stopped. “Did you just fuck with my road name?”

“Does it matter? Or are we going to bump uglies?”

“I’m thinking you need to shut up.”

“Why?” I chuckled.

His forearms hit the pillow on either side of my head and he lowered his face to mine. “Because I don’t ‘bump uglies,’ with anybody, Blume.”

“Really?” I drawled.

“Yes, really, because nothing about a sweet, wet pussy is ugly. And when I take this pussy of yours, it will befarfrom bumping.”

I laughed. “Is that so?”

“Are you laughing?”

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