ENEMIES(73)

“How was it seeing your brother tonight? Georgia said they couldn’t meet after the game. That’s why I invited them to the field. You were okay with that, right?”

He was asking in between taking mouthfuls of his sandwich, half watching me for an answer and half watching the ESPN highlights. His team was on there. Him especially, but he turned the volume up when they talked about the other teams. I knew he was already starting to pay attention to their next opponent.

“It was good. He seems to be doing as best as he can be, given the circumstances.”

Stone was distracted, so he didn’t push me to talk more about it.

I waited, finishing my water, until he was done eating, until he had finished his own water, until I saw his first yawn come over him. He relaxed back, rolling his head toward me and a tired grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. His eyes warmed, taking me in.

“You look nice tonight. I didn’t tell you before.”

I didn’t care about that either, but it felt nice to hear. That’s when I made my move.

I scooted over. He started to get up, but I was there, a hand on his chest. I pushed him back down so I was straddling him.

He sank back in the couch, a grin starting. His eyes grew heated and he was taking me in, all of me, in a whole different way than he had thirty seconds prior. His hands went to my hips. “What’s this?” But he knew. A low simmer was starting. I felt it. I saw it in him, and he began kneading my hips.

I leaned back, almost looking at him lazily. “Put on some music.”

His eyes widened at the command, but he did, reaching for the remote next to us. The lights in the room shifted, going dark, then blaring red as hip-hop filled the speakers. I was assuming he put on a music video, but I didn’t look. I only had eyes for him.

This was what I’d been wanting since this morning, since Phone in My Face Guy, every time I hid in the library, when I walked to my house, when I was getting ready, when I called Morpheus, when I met Jared and we walked into that stadium. And it’d been a slow trickle of torture watching him duck and weave and spin and twist, and being knocked down, only to see him jump right back up and do it all over again.

My hand still on his chest, I rolled my hips.

“I’m going to ride you.”

He groaned. “Fuck.” He slipped farther down on the couch until he was almost flat. I climbed up and settled back down, feeling him hardening and then closing my eyes, I started.

My body was a wave. A full, sensual wave, and I moved my hips in rhythm, hearing another groan from him, a deeper groan. And I picked up speed. It was like I was riding a mechanical bull, but I was in charge. This was about me having my fun. He could watch. He could enjoy that way, but this was me.

He and I…we’d never been sexually shy with each other. Not the first night, all the positions he’d twisted me into, and I went with everything. I’d never been like that with anyone but him.

He was liberating. He was thrilling. He made me feel confident and sexy, and I was addicted to every time he was inside of me. And speaking of, he wasn’t. Not yet. I wasn’t there yet, but he was. Reaching between my legs, I opened his pants, then helped him out. My hand wrapped around him, and I stroked him. Slow. Sensual. All the while still rolling my hips forward and back, my body following like I was made of water.

“Jesus, Dusty.”

He swallowed just as I rubbed his tip.

I picked up the pace, my body and my hands. But only a half a notch faster. I was tormenting him now.

His hands were holding me tight, as if he couldn’t bear not to participate, but also couldn’t bear to interrupt what I was doing.

I was weaving a spell, for both of us because I was just as affected as him. My pulse was pounding. My blood was buzzing. I was wet for him, aching, and I wanted to shift over him, sinking down, but I was still rolling. Back and forth until the song changed behind us. We were on song three, this one had a faster tempo and I gave in now, leaning down to graze my lips over his.

His mouth opened, trying to draw me in. I didn’t let him, just the graze.

He groaned again. “Fucking hell. What are you doing to me?”

I moved my hand down his chest, then began pushing his shirt up, my hands sliding over his chest underneath. Stone helped with that, ripping his shirt off, and he reached for me, and this I allowed. He went for my bra, and I shook my head, leaning back again, still riding him, but not letting him feel me completely. My hand never stopped stroking over him, but then my mouth was watering and I slipped back a little on his legs, just enough room. I leaned down and took him into my mouth.

His fingers entangled in my hair.

“Oh, God. Christ.”

All the way in, and I opened my throat, slipping him in even farther.

He was starting to pant above me.

“You are killing me.” He hissed in a breath, a low, guttural moan tumbling out as I touched my teeth to his shaft.

His hips bucked. “Jesus!”

My tongue swirled over his tip. I sucked him like a goddamn lollipop, my head moving until he reached forward, his hands moving to my own pants. I let him. I was getting impatient myself, then he shoved his hand inside, and as I was picking up my pace, his fingers thrust inside of me.

He began moving in and out of me, matching my pace on his dick until he came. I didn’t. I was only primed for him. He jerked, exploding in my mouth, and I swallowed. He’d been watching me, his eyes lidded, and seeing that, he let out a low and soft curse. His hands went under my arms and he lifted me. I was back to straddling him, but he didn’t push inside me. His fingers slid back in and he sat up, his other hand behind my hip, urging me to keep riding him.