Page 61 of Fair Catch

He’s lean with muscle mass in all the right places—his shoulders, biceps, and chest—almost like the body of a swimmer, complete with flat stomach and a tapered waist that disappears beneath the sweats resting on his hips.

I already want to see more.

Hayes remains still as my gaze rakes over him, committing this sight to memory, and it’s not until it finally lifts to meet his wild, cobalt eyes that he dares to move.

Wetting his lips, he grabs the collar of my dress shirt, waiting for permission to proceed.

I nod, my heartrate kicking up a notch as I watch him work open the buttons down my torso. He’s quick with it, reaching the last one in no time before shoving the sides open, revealing my bare chest and stomach.

It’s his turn to map every inch of my skin now, but Hayes doesn’t use his eyes. His hands, lips, tongue, and teeth get in on the action too while he explores my body. Fingers tease my nipples while his mouth moves over the thin, sensitive skin of my collarbone, his tongue dipping into the hollow space while he continues rocking in my lap.

I feel himeverywhere.

Emboldened by lust and need, my hands move around his back, tracing the tight lines and muscles on either side of his spine that lead all the way down to his waistband. I don’t stop when I hit the fabric, though, allowing my fingertips to dip below the elastic and slowly move toward his crease.

Teeth scrape over my throat now, and I can tell he’s smiling against my skin when he murmurs, “That’s not yours,” in a rough, graveled tone.

“Then show me what is,” I pant, feeling more alive and reckless than ever before as my fingers circle around to the front of his pants, right above his cock. “Let me see you.”

He leans back, one hand anchored on my shoulder for balance, and I find his pupils are blown with desire as his lips tug up at the corners.

“Go ahead, then. Seems like you’ve got that handled.”

I’m not sure if he’s testing me, pushing my limits, or what. All I know is that want and need is my driving force, and they aren’t allowing me to second-guess my actions right now; they’re forcing me to take the fucking reins.

My fingers slip further under the waistband, sneaking beneath his briefs too, and I start to shove them over the sculpted globes of his ass. He doesn’t even let me push them down past it though, only enough for his length to be freed, the base of his cock holding down the elastic waistband.

And holy fuckingshit.

That thing they say about the tall, skinny ones? Absolutely true.

My heart pounds against my ribs as he wraps his long fingers around his shaft, giving it a long, leisurely stroke. He stares down at me while he does it, an air of confidence about him that only adds to his sex appeal, and I don’t miss the hint of challenge in his deep blue irises.

“Well, baby? You got what you wanted. Now, are you planning to stare or play with it?”

If I thought Hayes was filthy when he was joking around, it’s got nothing on when he’s serious.

My dick twitches beneath him, loving the idea of touching him myself, yet I’m too mesmerized by his hand instead.

“I think I’d rather you show me what you like,” I say slowly, my gaze flicking between his cock and his eyes. “Teach me how to touch you.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, dragging his palm up and down his shaft, collecting the precum seeping from the tip and spreading it back down his length. I remain fixated on his movements, analyzing and memorizing them should I get the opportunity to try them out myself.

“You’re gonna return the favor for this,” he murmurs, a delicious grin on his face while he watches me watch him. “I’ve decided that’s what my IOU is.”

Fucking sold.

The idea of him watching me get off is as alluring as it is frightening, but I’m down regardless. Whatever he wants, he can fucking have it.

“Later,” I mutter in agreement, my breathing coming out in sharp pants. “We’ll go for round two.”

My fingers dig into his hips again, doing my best to keep up with the pace he’s setting. Every grind of his ass on my aching length brings me closer and closer to the edge, even with the friction of my underwear being less than ideal.

And watching him touch himself while it happens?

Fuck.

It’s too much, but not nearly enough.

---