Page 6 of Half-Court Heat
I smiled, hearing her breath catch and quicken.
“What’s that line?” I rhetorically posed. “Lady in the streets but a freak in the sheets?”
“Forget the streets,” Eva replied huskily. “It’s all about those sheets.”
I pushed the center panel of her underwear to the side. Eva’s eyes fluttered closed, and she let out a soft sigh. I gently ran my fingers over her exposed clit, feeling it throb beneath my touch.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” she quietly admitted.
I smiled, feeling a surge of confidence at her words. My fingers continued to dance across her clit, applying gentle pressure.
“You should have said something earlier. I would have fucked you.” I leaned in closer, my lips near hers. “In the pool—I could have had my fingers inside you. Or in the showerbefore dinner.” I pressed a small kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Under the table at the restaurant?” I suggested. “Or maybe a stall in the restaurant bathroom? All you need is to say the word.”
Eva released an uneven breath. “Can’t have you thinking I’m some sort of nympho who can’t get through the day without your hands on me.”
“I don’t know why you’d want to deny yourself what you want,” I said pragmatically. I pressed down on her clit through her underwear and she shuddered. “But at least now you don’t have to be quiet. Now you can be as loud as you want.”
Her hips started to move—subtle at first, then insistent as I increased the pace and pressure of my touch.
I needed to taste her. I dropped to my knees on the cool tile floor and stared up at her with obvious adoration. Her eyes locked on mine, a smile of encouragement pulling at her lips.
I gently tugged her underwear down over her hips, exposing her pussy to my eager gaze.
Eva stepped out of the fabric one foot at a time, steady even in her excitement. I guided her back against the wall with a hand to her thigh. I kissed the inside of her knee and slowly worked my way up. Her scent—clean, sweet, familiar—filled my lungs, and I exhaled against her.
She threaded her fingers into my hair, letting her head tip back as I nuzzled into the juncture of her thighs. I licked a slow, deliberate line along her seam, then paused to kiss just beside it, teasing her the way she liked—gentle to start, coaxing her open.
“Lex,” she breathed. It wasn’t a plea. It was a warning.
I smiled against her skin. “I know.”
My tongue circled her clit, slow and rhythmic, and her knees buckled slightly. I caught her hips in my hands and pressed her tighter to the wall for balance, for leverage, for control.
Her breath quickened, short little exhales timed to the flick of my tongue. She grabbed my shoulder with one hand, the wall with the other. I loved her like this—uninhibited, not trying to be quiet or composed or polite.
“Oh God, that feels so good,” she breathed.
Her moans turned guttural, deeper, edged with desperation. I could feel her trembling against my mouth, the strain in her thighs as she tried to hold still, as if she didn’t want to come just yet—or didn’t want to come like this.
She pressed her hips forward, insistent, her body saying what her mouth didn’t.
And then her hands were on me—gripping, clutching. Nails raked over my shoulders, not to push me away, but to pull me up.
She needed more.
She didn’t need to say the words. I knew what she wanted. I wished I had packed my strap so I could fuck her against the wall. But we didn’t really need the plastic. My fingers could handle the job.
I surged up, crashing into her mouth, and she sucked my tongue into her mouth. I knew my mouth probably tasted like her arousal.
“You taste good, huh?” I said, honest and undone.
“So do you.”
Her hand slid down the front of my linen pants and beneath my underwear. My knees buckled when solid, confident fingers slid along my slit. Her hand was gone nearly as quickly as it had made its appearance.
Something wild and feral flared in my chest to see her bring those fingers, wet with my own juices, up to her plush mouth. Eva sucked her fingertips clean and made a quiet sound of approval.
My arm went around her waist. “God, what you do to me, Eva,” I practically growled.
