Page 39 of Shot Taker

I’m shaking from the orgasm, but the air still crackles between us.

He looks at me with an intensity that takes my breath away.

We’re not done, I realize as he reaches into his pants and pulls out his cock.

And wow.

He’s huge and thick, and I never thought a dick could be beautiful, but I was wrong.

“Quit trying to distract me with compliments,” he growls.

“I didn’t say a word.”

“You did with your eyes.”

“It wasn’t a compliment. I’m just surprised you’re not tattooed there.”

He half laughs, half coughs. “I’m not that stupid.”

My lips twitch too, until he drops his other hand between my thighs and draws a gasp from me.

His touch is there only long enough to coat his fingers with my wetness.

Then he grips his cock.

My throat dries.

Clay’s hand drags down, his length throbbing against his merciless grip.

Holy.

Again.

It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

Again.

“Don’t move,” he rasps.

I couldn’t if the room was on fire.

A few hard strokes and he’s grunting in time with his motions.

It’s the same way he moves on the court, only sexier. He’s private and ruthless, chasing his own pleasure inches from where he made me come harder than I ever have moments ago.

His dark eyes capture mine, and I can’t breathe. I feel the battle raging inside him.

“Nova…”

His jaw works, and I breathe along with him. I reach up, my fingers stroking the side of his face.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper.

He comes on a groan, coating my thighs and stomach.

It’s beyond sexy, watching this man who’s sacrificed everything his entire life for a single purpose lose control with me. On me.

Clay straightens his clothes, then turns to mine. He’s careful with me, tugging up my thong, my jeans.

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