Long Ball(65)

I’m an engine on overdrive, metal scraping metal, burning hot, hotter, until everything tightens then flies apart with sparks singeing my mind. I come with his hand over my mouth, covering the sounds I’m unable to smother, breathing hard through my nose.

I nod and he takes his hand away from my mouth.

And then slides the fingers from his other hand out—and sucks the wetness I left on them. “Mmm.”

“Come home with me,” I demand in a voice that sounds nothing like my own.

“I thought you’d never ask.”





6





Once I’ve given the cab driver my address, my lips don’t leave Dylan. His neck, his jaw, his earlobe.

His mouth. Oh God, his mouth.

From the gentlest teasing of tongues to harsh scrapes of teeth, he claims me with his kisses, erasing the memory of everything I thought a kiss could be, obliterating every other kiss I’ve ever had. My body’s an instrument he’s playing a symphony of pleasure on. I’m too full of sensations swirling through my body, carrying me away.

The cab driver clears his throat, and I jump, realizing we’ve been parked for more than a couple seconds, but too flooded with hormones to muster requisite feelings of shame. Dylan flings some bills at the driver and pulls me from the car and up the steps to my apartment, his hands never stopping their roving across my body the whole time.

It takes me three tries to get the key in the lock because his lips on the back of my neck short circuit my central nervous system and make it nearly impossible to do anything but stand there with my eyes closed.

We make it to the first floor landing before we’re all over each other again. My hands search for the skin of his chest; his hands squeeze my ass and pull me closer, trapping my arms between us, but I don’t need arms to kiss him or grind against his cock.

Dylan hauls my skirt up—is he going to f*ck me right here?—and he lifts me, encouraging me to wrap my thighs around his hips. My ass hangs out of my skirt, but he’s carrying me up the stairs and all I care about is that we’re almost to my apartment. Where there’s a bed.

He reaches around my hip and rubs my clit while I unlock the door, this time with laser precision because my body’s now calling the shots—and it wants him now. We burst into my apartment and slam the door behind us, tearing at each other’s shirts with frantic movements and almost angry expressions on the way to my bedroom. I take his glasses off and set them on my counter because I want to see his eyes.

They’re wide open and locked on mine.

I hate that he’s not already inside me.

Mouths fused together, we stumble around the boxes in my room, unable to part until we’re next to the bed and pants and skirt come off all that’s left are his boxers and my panties. He pushes me away by the hips and I land on the bed and tip my hips up to help him get me naked. I rub his engorged cock through his boxers before tearing them past his hips, the soft sound of them hitting my floor the best thing I’ve ever heard.

Everything’s hazy, every cell of my body demanding I spread wide for him, but he’s been so very good to me today, and I’m an orgasm ahead, so I bend and suck him into my mouth. He grinds out a low moan which hits me straight between the legs, reverberating in pulses reaching deep inside me.

This. This feels powerful, and sexy, and I suck at him greedily, wanting more of this feeling, wanting him to be just as turned on as I am.

He grabs the back of my head, and I take him deeper in my mouth, looking up at the ecstasy on his face as he f*cks my mouth for three hard thrusts before pulling out and reaching for his pants, pulling a condom out of his wallet and putting it on.

“I need to be inside you.”

I lie back on the bed. Afternoon sunlight streams through the window, highlighting the definition of his physique and the dark ink decorating it, and I take a second to just look, soaking him in. Never wanting to forget this man and the adventurous person I was when I was with him.

And then I flip over, get up on my hands and knees, shamelessly spread my legs, and look over my shoulder, smiling at the surprise that streaks across his features.

He strokes a hand down my back and over my ass, just barely skimming his thumb along the crack of my ass, which tenses my spine a bit in surprise and a little fear—I don’t want him in there—but he settles behind me and thrusts inside my *, and concern falls away.

Dylan could do anything to me and it would feel good.

I came hard at Tilt, but it was nothing compared to the completion I feel with his cock driving inside me now in deep, thick, thrusts. His hands dig into my hips, holding me steady as he pushes inside hard enough to nudge me farther across the bed. The friction heats my knees, but I don’t want him to ever stop.

After a few minutes, he pulls out. “Turn over.”

I do, but with a frown, afraid I’ve messed up by initiating the position. “You don’t like it that way?”

“I do, but I want to see your tits shake.” He wastes no time plunging back inside and going slower but harder.

Sure enough, my breasts bounce every time in a way I find embarrassing, but with the way he’s biting his lip and staring like he wants to devour me, I decide it’s also kind of hot.

He lifts my knees, spreading them out like a butterfly’s wings, grinding against my clit when he’s fully sheathed inside me, drawing more pleasure from my body. His hands knead my breasts, tracing thumbs across the tight buds of my nipples, lightly squeezing them.