Page 39 of Passed Ball

She drops her head, avoiding me.That won't do.I cup the side of her neck, hooking her chin and lifting her face. She's flustered and I need to know she understands what she's getting into. "Don't be embarrassed. But I have to know, the night of the gala you said something that bothered me. You said that you've only ever had mediocre sex. Is that true?"

"Yes," she admits, her cheeks turning pink. She's a powerhouse--it's one of the things I respect most about her. But there must be something really wrong with me because the idea that I could be the first to give her what she needs where others have failed has my cock turning to stone in my shorts, begging me to let him show her how good I can make it.

"It's a crime that a woman as remarkable as you hasn't been treated the way she deserves." The words come out gritty with urgency.

"It's fine. I do okay on my own." She shrugs, and it makes my blood pressure spike.

I want her to be as bothered by this as I am. It's like I'm on a damn seesaw that I can't get off, tipping between anger on her behalf and filthy joy at the idea of being the first person to get her off.

It's the last part that has me stepping forward, pinning her to the wall with my hips, giving her proof of what she's doing to me. "Tell me the truth. Does your body ache to be fucked the way you deserve?"

Her mouth drops open at my boldness, and I have to hold myself back from taking it, here and now. She needs to be certain because I'm not offering roses and wine. I don't have that in me--not right now.

"Yes," she croaks, her nipples pebbling against my shirt.

"And would you let me be the person who gives you what you need?"

Her breathing picks up as her eyes shift between mine like a pinball. "Yes."

I'm unable to stop the groan that starts in my throat when she shifts under the weight of my body. I give her my thigh, wedging it between her legs. Her head drops back against the wall at the friction. "We need safeguards. Rules. And I need you to be honest with me about what I'm up against."

"I'm not interested in a relationship," she adds, her voice strained.

"Good," I rasp, nodding. "I can't give you that. My life is crazy and Holland has to come first, always. This would just be sex--me giving you all the orgasms that you've been missing out on," I tell her honestly.

Pushing her shoulders back she asks, "And what do you get out of it?"

I drop my lips to her ear, letting my nose run over the shell. It's all I'll allow myself for the moment, though it's not nearly what I need, and whisper, "Having you will be more than enough."

"Hardly seems fair." I think she means it as a joke, but it comes out in short pants.

"Not fair? You're everything a man could need. I've been out of my mind wanting you for weeks. It would be a fucking privilege to make you come."

She bites on her lower lip, her hands lifting to my chest and using it as leverage. "My life is finally my own and I'm not ready to make room for anyone else. This can't turn into more, Xavier."

"I've got everything I need. Remember? But a brilliant woman once told me I'd be a better dad if my cup was full. This seems like a great way to pour into it."

Her husky laugh is drenched in pleasure as she rocks against my leg. "I think she meant basic human needs, like sleep and food."

I hum thoughtfully. "Let the cup runneth over." I add more pressure, giving her what she's seeking for a moment. "Everyone should have good sex--human connection is a basic need. Sex with the right person goes beyond need. When I'm through with you, you'll understand."

"You make it sound so simple."

"Simple? Not always. Worth it? Yes." Her focus locks on me, full of understanding. I'll try harder than anyone else ever has. "I wish you could write me a list of all the ways you want me to make you come, but you're too needy to stop, aren't you?" I pull my knee back a little and let her sag into me.

"Please don't stop. I can't--talk." Her voice wobbles, but she looks so determined. It's fucking adorable.

I push an inky strand of hair back from her face, bending to eye level and snaring her attention. "You'll come after we talk." She whimpers but doesn't argue. "Has anyone ever made you come?"

She shakes her head slowly. "No. Either they haven't cared enough or haven't paid attention. Sex always feels very focused on my partner's needs versus my own." She sighs like it pains her to admit. "Deep relationships aren't really my thing--I'm too focused on other things. So I never put all that much thought into it."

"And what about when you're on your own? Can you make yourself come, or is that hard too?"

Her eyes light up with mischief and her hands loop around my neck anchoring herself to me. "I'm a pro at making myself come."

"A well-practiced expert." I make a mental note that seeing her make herself come needs to be one of the first things we try. "So you've never come from dry humping?" I ask, giving her my leg back.

Her breath rushes out of her. "No."

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