Page 8 of In It to Win It

I’m still in my suede heels and he pauses, his hands on my calves. My entire body quivers as his palms caress my legs. “Jesus, that’s hot,” he says hoarsely. Then he stands and yanks off his tie while I work on his shirt buttons. Together, we get him undressed too, and he picks me up and carries me to the bed, which has my belly fluttering again.

He disappears into the bathroom briefly, returning with a condom he rolls onto his stiff cock. I can only stare in desperate admiration as he walks toward me, his body so beautiful and perfect.

He comes down over me—wide shoulders, strong arms, knees on either side of me. His thick, strong thighs flex as he easily adjusts my position beneath him, shifting me on the bed with his hands on my hips, and I reach for his face to cup it as he kisses me. I bend my legs and reach down between us to find his cock, eager to have him inside me, filling this aching need.

“Wait, baby. Need to make sure you’re ready.” He pushes back up onto his knees and moves my hands aside. He strokes his fingers through my pussy, and yes, I’m ready. I’m wet and swollen and sensitive. “Oh yeah. That’s fucking sweet.”

My eyes fly open wide as he lifts his fingers to his mouth and licks my taste off them. “Holy mother . . . I need you. Inside me. Please.”

“Yeah. Want to fuck you so bad. Christ . . .”

He takes his shaft in his hand and rubs the head through my slick folds, over my clit. I jolt with sensation, holding my knees back, opening myself to him, watching him. He groans, then slowly finds my entrance, pushing inside deliberately, unhurriedly, watching my face with an intensity that mesmerizes me. Heat blasts through me as he penetrates me deeper, deeper still, my body closing around him. My mouth opens and my breathing picks up speed, my heart racing.

He moves faster. Faster . . . pumping into me, causing my body to shake with sensation. He grips one of my thighs and one of my hips, plunging deeper, harder. My breasts are bouncing, and he lifts his hands to cover both of them, squeezing, tweaking my nipples. Pleasure rolls through me, intensity building in my core and spiraling higher inside me.

I slide a hand down to my pussy to rub my clit.

“Want me to do that?” he asks in a low, gruff voice.

I roll my head on the bed in a negative, so needy I just want to come.

He nods, his gaze holding mine, his eyes dark and hungry. This only adds to the intensity, the feeling of connection between us.

My fingers work, finding the right spot, the right pressure, the power of his cock stroking over sensitive nerve endings inside me sending me flying up and up and up, filling me with dazzling sensation.

He lets out a shout and a long, harsh groan, going still against me. I feel him pulsating inside me, and I squeeze around him again and again. I’m dizzy and dazed, breathless and quivering.

He lowers himself to find my mouth with his, taking mine in a long, heated kiss, our bodies still joined so intimately.

He moves off me and collapses on the bed next to me. I’m panting, my body still quivering, my inner muscles pulsing. “Holy shit,” I gasp. “I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard.”

“I don’t want to be that guy and say ‘I told you so’ . . .”

I choke on a laugh. “I think you just were that guy. But I’ll allow it, since I’m demolished.”

JP reaches out a hand and flattens it on my belly. “I’m demolished too.”

At the same moment, we roll to face each other. He studies me, stroking my hair, my shoulder, the top curve of one breast. Heat swells around us, thick and heavy. “That wasn’t enough.”

I slide my bottom lip between my teeth. “I know.”

“Stay here with me tonight.”

“That’s crazy.”

“I know. But why not?”

“I have to send a quick text.”

He frowns as I slide out of bed to go find my purse. “A text to who?”

I pause at the bedroom door, looking over my shoulder. “Be right back.”

Telling him I still live with my parents might be a mood killer. I’d rather do that when I’m back in bed, pressed up against him.

I send my mom a text to let her know I won’t be home tonight, then expel a sigh. I’m twenty-four years old. I lived on my own when I was in college. Moving back in with my parents has been rough. I’ve been independent, used to not answering to anyone, and it annoys me that I have to now, but I do it because I know my mom will worry if she wakes up in the morning and I’m not there.

I return to the bed and slip under the covers. JP is sitting up against the pillows, his eyebrows knitted, his mouth tight.

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