Page 77 of The Stud

Fear.

Fear that this isn’t real.

Fear that this isn’t happening.

Fear that it’s all going to end the second he pulls back, which leads to him doing the opposite.

Tanner roughly whips his tongue around mine at the same time he yanks me away from the wall by the edge of my shirt to grant him access to my ass.

Cupping one cheek instantly transitions into palming both, an action that barely precedes him lifting me up.

Kissing me harder.

Groaning and gripping and groaning again as his tongue fights for dominance while I struggle harder and harder to simply survive the overwhelming, endless lashes.

Our frames go from standing to stretched out on the mattress in what feels like the blink of an eye.

Being on top allows me the opportunity to sit up and grab a much-needed breath, yet having him instantaneously follow suit to yank up my t-shirt and slip my nipple into his mouth interrupts the process, forcing me to whimper instead.

“Such a pretty sound,” he compliments prior to moving to the other side. “And such pretty ink…”

The reference to my hockey sticks heart tattoo on the top of my tit – that’s usually covered bymostof my clothing outside of swimwear – heats my cheeks.

Flutters something in my stomach.

Tempts me into looking away.

Wiggle elsewhere.

“I love that you love what I love.” His tongue lazily whirls around the nearest nipple. “I love that you’re not afraid to love what you love.”

He grazes the wet peek with his teeth eliciting an airy cry, “Tanner…”

“Lafleurhavemercy,” rattles the male underneath me, teeth teasing the hardened nub once more, “say my name again…” Blue eyes I hate myself for having fantasized being underneath me as often as I have longingly peer up. “Please. Arden.” The tip of his tongue takes a single lick. “Say my name again.”

Rather than give him exactly what he wants, I rip off my t-shirt.

Lean slightly backwards.

Cock a sassy smirk and state, “Earn it, twenty-eight.”

The growl that escapes is possessive.

Primal.

“You want me to fucking earn it, Ducky?” Scooting us to the very edge of the bed occurs next. “Give me two on the PP.”

I latch my palms onto his t-shirt covered shoulders. “Clocks ticking, Frosky.”

“No,” he definitively grunts, fingers skating along my spine towards my ass. “You call me twenty-eight or Tanner when you’re in my bed.” The digit doesn’t stop gliding until it’s inside my shorts, gently nudging at my smooth pussy from the back. “Or on my cock.” To my surprise, he doesn’t shove it deeper or harder, he simply continues light, teasing pushes. “Understood?”

“Understood,” I quietly concede on a small rocking of my hips.

“Look at that,” he taunts during another faint nudge inward. “Youcanfollow a play.”

“That PP clock is running.” Craning my face towards his is accompanied by a crooked grin. “And it doesn’t look like you’ll be scoring any time so-” Tanner’s finger suddenly curls causing my back to the do the same, “Ohmyg-”

“What did I just say, Arden?” Fingers from his free hand forcefully wind themselves around my throat. “My name.” The pressure remains yet the speed slightly increases. “Or my fucking number when you’re on my cock.” I thoughtlessly moan my understanding and rock back against his finger in desperation for more only to be met by his grasp tightening hard enough to bruise my neck. “UFC rules, babe.” Tanner maintains his hold. “Tap out if it gets too much.” His forehead lightly leans against mine. “Clear?”

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