Page 39 of Fore Better or Worse
His hard cock throbs against my belly, thick and promising. A moan escapes my lips, and he pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his own green-blue gaze burning with desire. “I’m going to make you forget every other man who’s touched you,” he growls. “I won’t stop until you’re screaming my name.”
I try to catalog the sensations, the texture of his stubble, the heat of his breath, but thought becomes impossible when he trails kisses down my jawline, nipping at my skin. I wiggle against him, seeking more. One hand still holding me hostage, the other slides down my arm to cup my breast. His thumb grazes the nipple through the silk, and I gasp, arching into his touch.
“You like that, don’t you?” His eyes darken as he watches my reaction. “I can’t wait to see you squirm beneath me, begging for more while my face is buried between your thighs, just like you described.”
My thong is officially soaked.
He continues his exploration, his hand hiking up my dress, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat of his touch. The callouses on his palm skim my thigh while his fingers tease the lace edge of my panties. “Are you wet for me?”
“Yes,” I admit, my teeth grinding.
He glides his fingertips lightly over my panties, and I gasp. Fortunately, he can’t resist for long. Barely a second later, he slips one beneath the scrap of fabric and finds my clit. I jerk against him, a sharp hiss escaping me as my eyes squeeze shut and my head falls back against the door.
“Eyes on me,” he commands, his voice sharp. I force them open, meeting his intense gaze. He rewards me with a slow,sensual smile, his finger continuing its torturous dance. “Good girl,” he purrs.
I’m almost certain a praise kink wasn’t in the scene I wrote, but if I didn’t include it, I should have because, coming from Hays, it’s hot as hell.
He leans in, his lips capturing mine for another searing kiss. His finger moving in rhythm with his tongue, stroking, teasing, driving me closer to the edge. Then he pulls away, his breath ragged. The bastard.
Releasing my wrists, he runs a finger under each of the spaghetti straps of my dress, wiping my own moisture over one shoulder. He leans forward to press a kiss to the trail, then follows the path with his tongue as he slips the straps off each side and shifts back so the dress can fall to the floor and pool at my feet.
I stand exposed in my heels, the air conditioning sending a shiver through me as his gaze drops to my brand new, black-lace crop bustier and matching thong. Courtesy of him.
“You are fucking gorgeous.” With a rakish glint in his eyes, he twirls his finger in the air as if he wants me to spin around. Such a simple command, but it makes me feel like the most desirable woman alive. I obey, turning slowly, feeling as sexy as hell under his intense scrutiny.
“And here’s where I go off-script,” he murmurs as I face him again, the raw need in his eyes confirming I’ve succeeded in driving him wild.
He reaches down, lifting me as if I weigh nothing. My legs wrap around him, my hands grabbing hold of his shoulders. The hard muscles of his body flex against me as he carries me down a hallway, past a full kitchen and sitting area to the bedroom.
He lays me on an oversized bed with a duvet so soft it must be a million thread count Egyptian cotton. Then he tries to sink down on top of me, but I have other plans.
I press my hands against his chest, halting his descent. His eyes widen.
“My turn to improvise.” The words come out bolder than I expect, but this man makes me feel as if I can do no wrong. “After all, you wanted me to be able to taste things properly this week.”
“Fuck, Leah,” he murmurs. “You are a dream come true. But fair warning, with a mouth like yours, I won’t last.”
“Would you say,” I start, coming to my knees as he props himself up on his elbows, “that you might be…”
I leave him hanging as I don’t bother with any of his clothes, rather, going straight for his zipper. The sound fills the silent room before I free his impressive length. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him, thick and hard and ready for me.
“…premature?” I finish as I take him in my hands, reveling in the velvety softness of his skin. I meet his gaze, holding it as I bend and slowly lick the tip, circling with my tongue.
“God, yes,” he pants, his fingers tangling in my hair as his hips jerk. “You’re about to make me earn that reputation in record time.”
The thousands of romance books I’ve read didn’t prepare me for the powerful feeling of reducing this cocky athlete to trembling need. I smile as I take him into my mouth, my hand gripping the base of his shaft. He lets out a guttural moan, his head falling back onto the pillow. Smears of my lipstick cover his jaw and neck from earlier. The sight is incredibly erotic.
I suck hard, my cheeks caving in, and sure enough, his body tenses, his breath coming in short gasps. But after a few more strokes, just as I think he’s about to come undone, he pulls me off him, his chest heaving.
“Soon enough, darling,” he says, his voice rough, “I’ll let you take your sweet time sucking me. But tonight, I’m not coming until I’m buried deep inside you.”
In a swift motion, he flips me over onto my stomach, his strong hands gripping my hips and pulling me up onto my knees. He comes up behind me, hooking his fingers into the waistband of my thong, and wastes no time tugging it off. I lift my knees, helping him, my body trembling with need.
He raises the scrap of fabric to his face, inhaling deeply. I glance over my shoulder just in time to see him tuck it into his pocket.
“This,” he growls, distracting me by trailing a finger down my spine over the lace of my bustier, “is sexy as hell.”
“It comes in four other colors.”
