Page 64 of Fair Catch
There was nowhere else to go, but Zeke still pulled me, weaving us in-between bodies that were very reluctant to let us pass through them.
“Zeke!” I tried, but it was useless over the music. I knew he couldn’t hear me.
We were nearly touching the DJ booth when Zeke smiled at me once more over his shoulder, and then he disappeared behind a wall I hadn’t even realized was there.
And he took me with him.
The music dulled just a fraction, the difference between being in front of the giant speakers and behind them. My ears rang as he cornered me against the back of the speaker, slipping us into the dark space between it and the DJ booth.
My hands crawled up his chest, finding his neck, fingertips tracing the smile curling on his lips. He nipped at my finger, sending a shock between my legs, and though I couldn’t hear a thing, I felt the words he spoke against my finger next.
Trust me.
He descended then, pressing my slick back into the cool, hard speaker as his hands framed my face. His fingers curled in my hair, tugging, my neck arching without choice, and then he claimed my mouth in a slow, torturous circle of his tongue.
I gasped into that kiss, into how his body pinned mine, my erratic breaths met by those of his own. He kissed me like I’d never been kissed in my life — powerful and possessive, his expert tongue massaging mine before he bit my bottom lip hard enough that I whimpered into his mouth.
It was so dark, all I could do was surrender to the feel of him pressed against me, to the way his lips met mine in the pitch black. But when he began kissing down my neck, I looked up, allowing him better access.
And realized we were right below the DJ.
He was focused on the music, holding his headphones to his ear as he mixed into the next song, head bopping along with the beat. Those girls danced next to him, and whenever he wasn’t working the controls of the booth, he was watching them.
If he just looked down and to his left, if he so much as glanced behind that speaker, he’d see us.
Panic zipped through me, but it wasn’t the kind that crippled me before a kick. No, it was… heavier, deeper, anxiety laced with something deliciously forbidden.
Zeke’s hands crawling down the length of my body brought me back to him, those warm palms splaying along my ribs before they trailed down farther. He paused his kissing, lips hovering against mine as he unfastened the button of my jeans, slowly unzipping them while I tried not to pass out.
“Breathe,” he commanded against the shell of my ear, but he traced his tongue along that same space next, and I let out a moan without any prayer of being able to stop it.
Those lips hovering over my skin spread into a smile, and then he shimmied my jeans down my hips — not all the way to the floor, but down to my thighs, taking my panties with them.
I swallowed air in large, panicked gulps, glancing back up at the DJ to make sure he wasn’t watching us. But he was still focused on his job, and when Zeke pressed one hand against the speaker next to my head and the other slipped between my legs, I closed my eyes.
And I surrendered.
Those knowing fingers circled where I ached, making my knees tremble as I held onto Zeke for dear life. He kissed and sucked and licked my neck as he dipped his hand lower, the line of his forefinger gliding along my seam. I trembled, desperate for him to be inside me, to catch the release already building like a wildfire in my core.
Zeke pressed in on me more, surrounding every sense. One hand wrapped around my throat, cutting off my moans but allowing just enough room for sips of oxygen as his other hand worked between my legs. The music thumped through my body in a constant vibration, and through the darkness, I could just barely make out the outline of his face, or glance up to find the DJ right above us, oblivious to the pleasure Zeke was giving me just below him.
I savored the taste of his salty skin on my tongue as I bit down on his shoulder, muffling my cries. His scent enveloped me — turf and dirt and body wash, earthy and youthful, freedom on an inhale.
He cupped me with his palm, rubbing my clit as his fingers worked inside me. I struggled against the restraint of my jeans, desperate to spread my legs, to open for him, to thrust my hips more and catch the climax teasing me just out of reach.
I reached out into the darkness, tracing a trail down the length of his abs to the band of his joggers. His stomach stiffened at the touch, his hand between my legs stalling a bit when I dove my own down.
