Page 20 of Second Go-Round

She snorted and tipped her beer up for a swig. “I am master of my body and rarely let people see what’s going on inside me.”

“You’re not shy with your words, but you’re definitely a challenge.”

Light laughter jiggled those lush tits I imagined thrusting between, making lust pulse through my balls and putting all else from my mind. “I have been called that, yes.”

“You know what I think?” I grazed my knuckles over the swell of her breasts, featherlight and teasing.

She swallowed another mouthful of beer but kept her focus glued to my face. “Hmm?”

I put my beer on the coffee table, took hers from her hand, and placed it beside mine. “I think I’m up for it. Gonna make you beg for my dick, sweet girl.”

Christine huffed, her emerald eyes glinting as I stood to loom over her. “I’ve never begged to be fucked. Never will.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Her gaze slid down over my body, resting on the bulge in my jeans. She licked her lip. “Ready to go again already?”

She’d already confessed to lusting for my dick, but I wanted her undone beneath me, overcome by need.

“I could stay hard for you all night long.”

Chapter 9

Christine

The heat in his gaze swept through my blood like a brush fire, lighting up every inch of my body with arousal. My smile faded, and I swallowed.

So. Damn. Dangerous.

But it seemed I had zero self-control, no self-preservation left intact—

Jarod tugged me off the couch and bent, lifting me into his arms as though I weighed no more than a twenty-pound dumbbell.

I half-assed smacked at his shoulder. “You’re going to throw your back out.”

“Hardly.”

His snorted reply only made me hotter for him.

He strode across the living room as I ran my hand over his rock-hard pecs, thoughts of round two flicking through my brain. Slow, until I begged, I had requested. God, would I seriously survive this man? Probably not, but I would get my money’s worth and have memories to last a lifetime.

“Seriously, put me down before you hurt yourself,” I muttered. What I’d meant was he would hurt me by being all romantic and shit.

“Christine, the last thing you are is heavy.”

I pressed my lips tight rather than arguing. The “freshman ten” or so I’d gained in my college years had turned into twenty and still clung like a stubborn bitch in all the wrong places. It seemed every couple of weeks, no matter how much bunny food I did or didn’t eat, another sixteen ounces found their way to my thighs or breasts.

“You’ve got the curves of a goddess,” he said, his voice low and sexy, “and I’m going to take my time exploring and lavishing attention on every one of them until your mind is quiet. You’re going to plead for my dick, then I’ll leave you a puddle of sated flesh sprawled out beneath me.”

His words shut up every thought in my head, regardless of his reminding me of our non-bet about the whole begging thing. My chest tightened, and I forced myself to focus on his body. Sweaty, torturous sex. The orgasm sure to eventually rip through me. God, did I want him—but I would never lower myself by whining for his length to fill me up again. Harder, yes, but never to stick it in.

Call me stubborn, but I wouldn’t ever ask a man for anything let alone beg for his dick, no matter how well he definitely used it.

I nipped his jaw, my tongue drawing lazy circles down his neck as I breathed in his subtle, spicy cologne. He would find a sopping mess between my thighs, and I couldn’t wait to see how he would play the game.

Soft and gentle, he laid me on my bed like I was a precious treasure. Ignoring the sweet care I might enjoy a little too much, I propped on my elbows as he peeled off his shirt. My mouth dried and then flooded almost immediately with drool. Wide shoulders and the thick pecs I’d caressed rippled with muscles down toward his washboard abs, and the luscious V at his waist caused my tongue to twitch between my parted lips.

“Fuck me,” I breathed, my fingers itching to touch every inch of his gorgeous body.

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