Rushed(23)

Tyler's answering smirk lights an even deeper fire within me. He knows what he’s doing, but he's just as caught up as I am, and he fumbles his keys out, shoving them in the door lock and getting the door open in what perhaps isn't the smoothest, but maybe the most arousing door opening I could imagine. There's real desire in his movements, not just the practiced suaveness of a seducing pro. Turning back to me with the door open, I wait for him to get his keys out before I grab his hand and pull him into the apartment, not even waiting for the bedroom but instead falling onto the sofa. Tyler twists in the air so that I'm not crushed underneath him, but instead land on my side next to him, both of us pulling at each other's clothes. His hands are suddenly under my shirt, pushing under my bra and kneading, pawing at my breasts. White hot fire shoots from my nipples through my body as we kiss deeper, and my hand reaches down to squeeze his rock hard, muscular ass.

I reach for the waistband of my pants, pushing them down with my panties. I pull my knees up, not caring that I'm caught up in a wave of lust, that I just want Tyler. He gets off the couch and pushes his pants down, and I stop, my hands frozen with my pants near my knees, his cock jutting out.

Did I think he was perfect before? That was soft. What's now in front of me is massive, thick, and even more perfect. I shiver, and when he takes out a condom from his wallet and rolls it on, I can't help but whimper.

"Wait here," Tyler says, disappearing into the back where his bathroom is, and coming back a moment later with a tube of lube. He smears it on his cock, pumping the thick shaft with his hand, looking down at me with tenderness and power in his eyes. "You haven't gotten your pants all the way off."

His words startle me, and I realize I'm still frozen, and I shove my pants the rest of the way down my legs and to the side. Tyler's right there, pushing me back onto the couch, his lips finding mine again and reassuring me, telling me it's not going to hurt, that's it's going to . . .

He slips inside, and my eyes widen open. He's stretching me, slowly in and out, but never is there any pain, just deliciousness…. fullness. I've never had a lover enter me so perfectly, and I feel him slide deep, deeper . . . oh God. I'm full, but he's still got more.

"Tyler, oh f*ck . . ."

He slips out, then in again, faster and harder. Tyler's pinning me to the couch, his blue eyes burning with intensity as he looks into mine, and he smiles, knowing how good it feels. He knows, and he's holding himself back, wanting me to be fully open to him, to give in to his desires fully.

I know my heart needs to be protected, but in his eyes, I see something. There's my Tyler, the boy that I thought I had something for years ago and he's here with me right now, and in that look I know I'll always be safe. To hell with it, I won’t hold back, and he slips that last inch into me, growling with pleasure. “So perfect."

There's no more words as he begins pounding me, my legs spread and wrapped around him on the couch as he takes me, driving me into the cushions, our hips slapping sharply together and sending explosions of pleasure through my body. I'm gasping, my fingers digging into his t-shirt, my body clenching around him, and I want more. Oh God . . . I want him more and more . . .

My orgasm crashes upon me, like glass shattering, and I'm crying out, fingernails digging into his back, and I pull him down into another soul searing kiss, needing him as he trembles and moans into my mouth, his cock swelling before he comes, driving me into the cushion one last time.





Chapter 9





Tyler





We both fell into a deep and peaceful sleep, and I wake up the next morning at seven thirty. It's not too early, my body is well rested, and I've still got plenty of time until practice today since Coach wants us to start moving the end of our practice days a little later. He’s is really into the whole 'bio clock' thing, and wants our peak performance times to coincide with game time. As our preseason game this Saturday is an evening game, it means evening practice.

I have two hours still until I need to report in for morning video sessions, and looking at April sprawled out on my bed, only half covered by the bed sheet which is twisted around her shoulders and upper body only, I know exactly what I want to do.

Quietly, I get on the bed at her feet. She's still gloriously naked, and I carefully pick up April's right foot, and start massaging the sole with my thumbs, but not so light as to tickle her.

She stirs slowly on the bed, humming contentedly to herself as I continue my massage, squeezing each toe before letting it go, a technique I learned from a sports massage therapist I saw for a while while at Western. I lift her feet to my lips, and suck her toe into my mouth.

"Mmm, what are you doing?" April half mumbles, smiling. Her breath quickens as I continue my caresses. "Tyler . . . "

"Shh . . . this is all for you," I whisper, lowering her foot and kissing my way up the inside of her leg. She keeps her eyes closed, but her knees part, and I get to see her * up close in the morning light. It's perfect, soft and smooth, her tender flower opening already and glistening. I reach out with my tongue and trace the petals, losing myself in the flavor and essence that coats my tongue. She's tangy, spicy . . . perfect.

I keep licking, my mind whirling with our connection, a spark that I'd never felt before. It felt like . . . like coming home.