Page 256 of Coach
“Yeah, I did,” slipped out.
His grin twitched. It didn’t turn into a smile, but it twitched. I took that as a good sign.
“Your shirt is in the way,” he said.
I kissed his belly button, then looked up. “Not my problem.”
He growled, and that low rumble made my cock pulse. Damn, this man and his primal, feral, irresistible grunts and groans.
Meaty hands gripped my shoulders, hauling me upright. He was so strong I couldn’t have resisted if I’d wanted to—and I didn’t want to.
He didn’t tease or go slow like he had with his own shirt. In quick, precise motions, my polo flew over my head and sailed across to land on a sideboard or chair or some other piece I didn’t give a shit about in that moment.
Shane whistled.
I stiffened.
His gaze slid over me, and his lips twitched again.
“What?” I asked.
“You sure about this?”
I pressed my palm to his chest, and damn if it didn’t budge. “Very.”
He growled again, his eyes brightening with desire. “Good. I’m going to break you for any other man. You hear me?”
I think my butthole quivered.
Where had all this come from? I mean, I knew there was something between us. Just the thought ofShane made my crotch tingle and stomach flip. Still, he’d barely shown much overt interest beyond the awkward, what-the-hell-was-that forehead kiss he’d planted on my noggin. I was beginning to wonder if it might not take months or years to get to second base; yet there we were, about to swing for the fences.
“You are a professional woodworker. I’d expect no less.”
Finally, another rare smile bloomed, sending my already weak knees into Jello-O territory. Thank God, his hands still gripped my shoulders, or I might’ve tipped over right there.
“Less talk, more naked,” he growled.
I started to reach for my jeans, but his paws were on the button faster than I could imagine. Strong fingers tore the button fly open, then yanked from the waist until denim pooled around my ankles. I lifted one foot to let him pull the pants free but nearly toppled over when his mouth drank down my entire cock.
“Oh, shit,” I said, as startled as I was turned on. “I guess you want to—”
“Shut up and let me suck the life out of you. If you don’t behave, I’ll have to gag you with something enormous.”
Please, Daddy, sang in my head, but I had enough wit left to keep my mouth shut and enjoy the sensationshow that had just started.
His hands found my chest, kneading the muscles with merciless fingers, almost too painfully to be pleasurable—almost. With each bob of his head, my dick grew harder, thicker, balls filling with anticipation they hadn’t known in some time. Then his fingers clamped onto my nipples, and I nearly leaped high enough to smack my head on his ceiling fan.
“Ow!” I barked.
He grinned up, my cock now flopping freely before him, as I rubbed my wounded titties.
“My nipples. Get over it.”
Claiming me, was he? That was another new thing . . . and damn, if it didn’t send my racing heart into overdrive. This man, this stunning, frustrating, awkward, beguiling man wanted to plant this flag—literally—in my territory.
“Turn around,” was all he said.
Unsure where this was going, I complied . . . slowly.
