Page 58 of Treat

“What?” she mumbled, breathlessly gnawing on his earlobe.

“Are you always like this?”

She dipped her tongue into his ear, reveling in his full-body shudder. “Like what?”

“Like a feral wolverine,” he said, jostling her, and she realized they were moving.

“That’s oddly specific.” Panting, she unclenched her hands from his hair to work them between their bodies. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Bed.” He grunted when she shoved her hands under his t-shirt. “Any objections?”

“No.” She wanted to undo his shorts, but her body was in the way. “You’re moving kinda slow for a professional athlete.”

“I’d be moving faster if I could see.”

She scrunched down to lap at the hollow of his throat. “Better?”

“Not really,” he choked out, rapping solidly into the door frame. “Shit.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed. That jolt had shoved his dick solidly against her, and the pressure was delicious. “Do that again.”

“No,” he said and stumbled into the bedroom.

Just for fun, she scraped her teeth across his collarbone. “Spoilsport.”

They bumped into something—the bed—then they were tipping sideways and falling, landing on the mattress with twinoofs.

She scrambled up to nudge him back, swinging a leg over to straddle him, and whipped her dress over her head.

“God,” he breathed.

She hadn’t worn a bra. The dress had one built in, and she was so small she seldom bothered anyway, so her breasts were bare, her nipples poking out like little pencil erasers in the air conditioning, and even though his face was a little bit fuzzy because she wasn’t wearing her glasses, she could clearly see the wonder on his face when he reached for her.

Her breasts were small and sensitive and his hands were big and hot and he looked so enraptured as he stroked them, like her little boobs were the most fascinating, arousing thing in the world, and it made her want to fuck his brains out even more than she already did.

“Please tell me you have condoms.”

“Bathroom.” Eyes avid, he plucked at her nipples. “Second drawer.”

She scrambled off him and dashed across the room the bath. “Hey,” he called. “I was playing with those.”

“You can play with them again in a minute,” she called back, digging through the drawer. There was a small first aid kit, aCostco pack of toothpaste for sensitive teeth, and three different kinds of floss, but no condoms. “I can’t find them!”

“Other second drawer,” he said, and she jerked open the drawer on the other side of the double sink.

“Thank God.” She grabbed the box—unopened, but huge, he probably bought it at Costco, too—and dashing through the bathroom door, pitched it at the bed.

It hit him in the chest. “Ow.”

“Why are you still dressed?” she asked and started to peel her shorts down.

“I’m working on it,” he said and tossed his shirt aside. “Why are you wearing shorts?”

She thought about taking the time to explain thigh sweat and chafing and panty flashing, then discarded it. She didn’t have the brain cells. “Never mind. Hurry up.”

“I’m hurrying,” he promised, but he was watching her boobs jiggle as she worked the shorts off, and his hands weren’t moving fast enough. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“That’s sweet,” she said, kicking the shorts aside. “Do you need help?”

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