Page 121 of Behind the Net

“Beg me.”

When her gaze simmers with heat and a sigh falls from her lips, my blood sings.

“Please, Jamie,” she whispers. “Please make me come.”

Heat burns down my spine, pooling around the base, and I drag in a breath, holding on to the last remnants of control.

“When you beg like that, I lose my fucking mind.”

Her eyes are glazed with lust but certain. “So lose it.”

I get her fully naked within seconds. My hands settle on her inner thighs, pushing them apart as I lower myself between her legs.

She’s wet, soaked, glistening with damp thighs, and pride courses through my veins. I did that. I make her feel good. No one else.

Pippa is mine.

The first stroke of my tongue up her wet center makes Pippa arch off the bed.

This. The taste of Pippa ignites my hunger all over again, sets my greed for her on fire, and the possessive need inside me intensifies. I bury my face between her legs, licking, stroking, sucking the tight bud of nerves. The noises slipping out of Pippa’s mouth are rough, breathy, unfiltered, and my cock pulses with the need to fuck her hard.

When I slip a finger inside her and find the ridged spot, her thighs slam tight around my head.

“Jamie,” she chokes out, and my chest beats with pride.

“You looked so fucking hot in my jersey,” I say before I suck her clit. Her thighs shake on either side of my head. Her pussy’s so wet I can hear sucking sounds as I push my finger in and out. “So fucking hot. Do you know how it makes me feel to see my name on your back, Pippa?”

I suck her clit again, and her hands drift to my hair, clutching and tugging. The sensation shoots more heat down my spine. My length aches, dripping pre-cum.

“It makes me feel like you’re mine,” I tell her.

Her eyes go hazy. “It makes me feel like that, too.”

My pulse whooshes in my ears, and I’ve never felt this feral need, this primal, out of control, instinctive want. The sight of Pippa lying beneath me, splayed open for me, hair spilling over my bed, hands in my hair as she holds on tight, it slices away any hesitation.

“Oh god, Jamie,” she moans when I add another finger and rub her G-spot.

I know that tone. I’ve memorized it, replayed it over and over again as I fucked my fist, thinking about her.

“You’re close,” I say before swirling my tongue over her clit.

She jerks a nod, eyes closed tight. “Uh-huh.”

Something hot and smug settles in my chest, and I close my lips over her clit, sucking and working the nerves with my tongue as my fingers stroke in and out. She tightens around me—her abs, her legs around my head, her pussy around my fingers.

“Say my name when you come like a good girl.”

“Fuck,” she chokes out, and I can feel her tipping. Her hands grip my hair so tight it hurts. The pain sears my scalp and I love it. “Jamie.”

She shakes all around me, crying out my name, coming and coming, and I don’t let up until I’ve wrung every drop from my pretty assistant’s pussy. As her orgasm subsides, I press sucking kisses to her clit. I can’t tear myself away from her.

Her legs fall apart as she catches her breath, hands still in my hair. Her fingers comb my hair out of my eyes as she stares at the ceiling.

“Jamie,” she whispers. “What the hell?”

I chuckle and kiss her inner thigh, coated with her arousal. My tongue runs along the soft, sensitive skin there, and she lets out a high, tight noise when I reach her clit.

“Sensitive,” she gasps.

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