Page 59 of The Thing About My Rival

“It already is.”

And it is. Amazing. Breathtaking. Extraordinary. None of the words in the dictionary fit. A whole new vocabulary is needed to describe what’s going on inside me right now.

If anyone had ever told me that a sexual encounter with Hugo Powers would feel special, I’d think they’d need to be given a very firm talking-to about how appearances can be deceptive.

But itisspecial—the anticipation of what’s to come is uniquely sizzling. It’s like the blood coursing through my veins is pumped full of lust—a deep desire fueled by the disagreements, the bickering, the battling against each other for the job. It’s a heady combination that makes me want him to ram himself inside me right now, but also to wait, to draw it out as long as possible, because I don’t want it to end. I don’t ever want to come down from the high of these sensations.

Hugo yanks my leggings and underwear over my feet and tosses them away with my shoes.

Then he dives toward me, head down, like a heat-seeking missile, his mouth landing high on my inner thigh and forcing every last bit of air from my lungs.

My throbbing clit and burning center ache for him to hurry his journey to the top.

He shifts my knee to rest on his shoulder as his tongue glides higher and higher, until…oh sweet baby Jesus…and all the heavens above…the angels are singing and the devils are dancing.

The combination of the sucking and the licking of my clit, and the…oh, whatever he’s doing with his finger—or is it a thumb?—as it slides inside me…

I open my eyes for a second to take in the glorious sight of Hugo’s face between my legs.

His eyes lift to meet mine, his tongue never stopping, his fingers or thumb or whatever he has inside me never stopping. And he wiggles his eyebrows at me.

It’s impossible not to giggle just the tiniest bit. I mean,seriously, I’m about to come on his face and he wiggles his eyebrows at me.

Only Hugo freaking Powers, with his special blend of cockiness and charm, could possibly pull that off.

His hair is like a magnet for my hands and I can’t help but run my fingers through it again. This time I hold on tight and let my eyes drift shut as I bear down on his mouth and his hand and allow myself to dissolve into a mass of nerve endings entirely under his control.

He hits a magic combination of internal and external pulses that cause me to buck into him with an unfamiliar low groan.

I reach back to keep from toppling over and find one of the beer taps to grab onto.

Hugo’s tongue stops and just as I’m about to ask him if he’s fucking kidding me, he speaks. “Come on, Wilcox. Come on.” His words of encouragement are as hot to my ears as they are against my throbbing wetness.

His mouth gets right back to the teamwork with his fingers as they thrust and find the elusive spot in there that no one has ever found before—not even me.

“About to,” I tell him as I fist his hair in one hand and the beer pump in the other and…oh my good fucking God, here I go.

The floaty pleasure clouds behind my eyes now dissolve into bursts of golden explosions against a dark sky.

I buck back and forth, out of my own control yet entirely under his.

My walls clench around his fingers, never wanting to let them go.

The cries I can hear must be mine, but they sound otherworldly, like they belong to a woman who knowswhat she’s doing and constantly has mind-blowing sex on a bar top with a sports hero sex symbol.

Waves of earth-rocking ecstasy roll over and over me as Hugo works me to keep them going.

A month ago, I’d have sworn that I’d never let Hugo Powers within a ten-foot radius of me. Now here I am grinding on his face and fingers and having the orgasm of my life.

The crashing pleasure gradually calms from roaring surf to lapping ripples, and I let myself fall to my side.

Hugo’s beaming face emerges triumphant from between my legs and bends over me, kissing me long and slow, the taste of me on his tongue. He tickles his fingers up my exposed outer thigh as I stroke his stubbly cheek.

“I want you so much, Wilcox,” he murmurs. “You’ll think I’m spinning you a line, I know you will. But I’ve never wanted anyone or anything the way I want you right now.”

“Not even a World Cup win?”

“Well, okay, maybe that.” He gives my bare ass a playful slap. “But I really fucking want you.”

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