Page 91 of Drop Shot
“Let them hear what I do to you when I’m not even trying,” he goes on. “Imagine how you’d sound if I was touching you right now? What sounds you’d make when my tongue circles your nipples? Would you cry out when I finally got my mouth on your pussy? I bet you taste divine.”
I’m a shaking mess in his arms.
I’m terrified to admit that I think I could come from this alone—him holding me and the dirty talk. Has it been so long that it only takes this little to get me there or is just Elias?
“Hmm,” he hums, thumb pressing against my bottom lip. “Do you like it when I talk to you like this?”
“Yes,” I gasp out. I probably shouldn’t have answered, but the word slipped out before I could stop it.
He grins. “I like that—how much your body responds to mine.” The finger that was pressed to my lips glides down my throat to skim over my collarbone. “God, Whimsy, I bet you’d taste so sweet. You’d be the best thing I’ve ever tasted, I just know it. Is that what you want? Huh? To ruin me for anyone else? You’re all I think about right now. I think about you more than tennis.”
My hips jerk against his. “More than tennis?”
“Yeah.” His answer is a tad breathless. “It’s annoying how much you’re on my mind—the way I walk down the street and see something and instantly think of you. How when I’m on the court I want you there watching. I keep finding myself looking for you even when I’m at practice. For someone who’s prioritized tennis above all else it’s a tad annoying.”
I settle my hands on top of his shoulders. “I … I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.”
I don’t know who moves first, I guess it doesn’t matter—this whole bedroom charade is already breaking apart the boundary we erected at the club—but suddenly we’re kissing and I’m lost in him.
He still tastes minty from his toothpaste from when he brushed his teeth before bed.
His hands skim down my sides, landing on my hips where he guides me into a roll against him. I can’t tell with all the blankets between us, but I wonder if he’s hard. I hope he is, because it would make me feel better about being soaking wet.
This is so dangerous what we’re doing—losing ourselves to feelings that could very well get us in trouble down the line.
“Please,” he whispers against my lips.
It takes me a moment to find my breath and my words. “Please, what?”
“Please, let me have a taste of you. I need to know. I have to know.” His fingers curl against my cheek, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“Where?”
His brown eyes are like melted chocolate as he stares at me. His voice is even deeper than usual when he replies, “You know where.”
I nod—probably too enthusiastically, but he doesn’t seem to care.
One moment I’m on his lap and the next I’m laid down on the mattress with him hovering above me. He makes quick work of sliding my sleep shorts past my hips and down my legs, leaving me in only the pair of panties I put on after my shower.
He grins. “I should’ve known you’d wear cute pink panties with little bows on them.” He uses one finger to tug at the elastic just slightly before letting it snap back into place.
He works my underwear off next. I desperately want to press my legs together, but I resist the temptation. Instead, I let them fall fully open—exposing my bare pussy to him.
I’m aware we’ve completely lost the plot of our intentions, but I can’t bring myself to care.
“Look at you,” he croons. “So pretty and pink just like I knew you’d be.” I whimper at his praise. “God, Whimsy. Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He strokes himself over the top of the boxer-briefs he sleeps in.
I shake my head, my hair fanning around me.
He presses his hands against the inside of my thighs, making sure I stay spread open for him.
“Are you sure about this, Whim? I don’t want to do anything that you’re going to regret.”
“I won’t regret it.” My voice is breathless, barely a whisper.
“Good. I won’t either.” He lays down, settling his shoulders between my thighs. His mouth is so close to where I want him, but he looks up at me instead. “And Whim?”
