Page 51 of Most Likely to Score
I do as I’m begged, rubbing the head of my dick against her slick opening.
“Yes,” she moans, and it’s as if the word lasts for days.
I sink inside a few inches, shuddering as sparks tear through me from the first touch. This is better than all my dirty dreams of her, and I’ve had thousands. Hell, it’s eons better than every time I’ve jacked off while imagining how it would feel to bury myself in her.
There is nothing, nothing at all, like the real thing.
She ropes her arms around my back, looks up into my eyes, and whispers, “All of you. I want all of you.”
An obliterating wave of lust rolls over me as I sink into her, savoring the heat of her pussy, filling her completely. Sensations fire off in my body, like fireworks every-fucking-where. She’s so warm, so tight, and I can’t believe I’m finally having her.
This is where I want to be, and it’s tremendous. Our eyes lock for a few seconds, and we’re silent, but it feelslike we say everything—Finally. At last. I’ve wanted this. I've wanted you.
The last unspoken word echoes between us.You, you, you.
Then, we fuck.
We don’t go slow. We don’t ease into it. We’re off to the races, and she goes wild beneath me, arching and thrusting. She drags her nails down my back, scratching me.
It makes my blood run hotter. “Leave marks, baby,” I urge.
She scratches harder, and I love the wildcat in her. Love that she wants to claim me in her own way.
I love, too, how she gives herself to me so openly. How she has no hang-ups now that we’re finally tangled together. Swiveling my hips, I push deeper into her. She moans her approval. I do it again. She moans even louder. Her nails dig into me.
“Like that,” she pants.
“Just like that.” That’s the pace I keep up, the rhythm she seems to need, the angle that sends her pitch rising.
And it makes my name rush from her lips in a filthy moan.
I hear my name said all the time. It’s announced during games. It’s uttered on TV. It’s mentioned constantly on sports radio.
Never has my name sounded as good as it does tonight. “Jones . . . so close . . . I’m so close.”
The fact that she’s nearly there already triggers a fresh round of lust in my veins. Unleashing severalhard, fast pumps, I drive into her, and she cries out, louder each time.
Raising her knees higher, she opens herself more. I wrap a hand around one knee, pushing up her leg, making even more room. She quivers, her shoulders trembling, her eyes squeezing shut. Her mouth, her lips, her beautiful face—I can’t stop watching as the beginning of her orgasm radiates through her.
Another gasp. Another groan.
Then, the barest whisper from her—coming—and it sends a bolt of heat to my groin as I give her everything she needs, taking her to the edge.
The sound of her climax is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s hotter when she digs her nails in as she keens. That trips the switch in me. Pleasure barrels down my spine, and I don’t hold back. There’s no need to anymore. My vision blurs, and my world spins out of orbit as everything turns white-hot.
I come hard, my orgasm reverberating with an intensity that feels like the end of time. Ecstatic oblivion, and worth every goddamn second. I collapse onto her, her arms still banded around me as we both breathe as if we’ve run a race.
Her hands move up my back with gentle strokes. She runs her fingers through my hair. She dusts a kiss to my sweaty forehead, whispering my name once more, a quiet murmur in the night.
As she glides her hands over my skin, the part of my brain that can still construct sentences is telling me that I could get accustomed to this, to her.
I don’t want this to be a one-night stand.
22
JONES
“Hey.”
