Page 61 of The Fangirl and the Playboy

Without a word, I push off his lap. Standing before him, I shove down my shorts and underwear before unclasping my bra and tossing it to the floor. Gavin’s nostrils flare as his eyes roam over me, and I waste no time climbing back onto him, straddling him and rubbing my slick flesh over the ridge of his erection.

“Are you sure?” he asks on a groan, his eyes falling closed as his body shudders with pleasure.

“I’m sure, Gavin,” I say, lifting myself slightly, wrapping my fingers around his shaft, and lining it up with my entrance. “I want to feel you, too.”

Then I lower myself down slowly, taking him centimeter by centimeter so I can relish every bit of him. His breathing turns erratic, and I can tell he’s fighting the urge to take over and propel himself up into me in a single, powerful thrust.

My inner walls pulse with anticipation with every move I make, and by the time I have him halfway in, I’m panting with need, too. Tensing my thigh muscles, I pause for a beat, take a deep breath, and slam down, driving him in to the hilt.

We stay like that, our only movements the rise and fall of our chests as we gasp for air. He’s staring at me with wonder in his eyes, like he never knew anything could feel so perfect, and I watch him with the same euphoria.

Reaching up, he tangles both hands in my hair and yanks me down for a deep, loving kiss. That kiss says a thousand words without uttering a single syllable, and I lose myself in it while we remain connected in the most intimate of ways.

His cock pulses inside me, and my core gives an answering squeeze, making him break off the kiss and gasp for air. Gripping his shoulders for leverage, I push up on my knees, lifting until just the tip remains inside me before slamming back down.

A soft keening noise echoes around me, and I realize the sound came from my own lips. Gavin’s hands find my breasts, his fingers plucking at my nipples. Electric pulses shoot from his fingers straight to my core, and I start to move in a slow, undulating motion, each thrust of his cock driving me to new heights.

One of Gavin’s hands drifts downward, sliding between us until his fingertips find my clit. Heat flows through me like lava, and I ride him harder as he drives me wild.

“That’s it, baby. Come all over my cock like a good girl,” he whispers, and I think I black out for a second.

“Say it again,” I grunt as I move faster, rolling my hips as I push down.

“Such a good girl,” he says, pinching my nipple with one hand and my clit with the other. “You’re so hot and wet for me. So greedy. Come for me, Willow. Show me how much you love my cock.”

I tilt my head back and scream as my orgasm rockets through me. My inner walls contract and release then contract again, over and over as waves of pleasure wash through me.

“Fuck, yes,” Gavin grunts, his hands finding my hips and taking over as he pumps into me at an almost unbelievable pace. “Give me everything, baby. I want it all.”

He drives up into me one last time, freezing as his cock jerks inside me, filling me with his hot release. The feeling sets off another round of aftershocks, making my entire body jerk and writhe against him.

Gavin relaxes, and I slump against him, boneless and satisfied. His fingers brush up and down my back as he works to catch his breath like he just ran a marathon. I rub my cheek against his chest, and tears prick at my eyes as my emotions roll out of control.

I love this.

I lovehim.

It’s dangerous, what I feel for Gavin. But it’s too late.

Eleven years too late.

Because I loved him then, and though I tried very hard to deny it, I never stopped. And now that I can no longer deny my feelings, at least to myself, I know it’s going to hurt that much worse when he leaves.

ChapterThirty-Two

Gavin

Having Willow here with me, uninterrupted, has made this rental house feel more like home than any place I’ve lived since I left my parents’ house, when Curse was released and made me enough money to support myself. My condo in L.A. is a place to rest and store my stuff, and if you’d asked me before, I’d call it “home.”

But now? Now, I know.

Four walls a home do not make.

If I had my way, I’d stay here in this little cocoon we’ve weaved together…forever.

God, I’m such a goner. If this thing I have planned for my future––forourfuture––doesn’t pan out, or it does, and Willow decides I’m not what she wants, I have no idea what I’ll do.

I breathe deep and exhale slowly, clearing the negativity with intention.

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