Neat (Becker Brothers, #2)(45)

She didn’t say a word, just pressed one hand hard into my chest and shoved. I fell back, bare ass hitting the couch cushions, and as soon as I was sitting, she was on top of me, her mouth hard on mine.

And that’s when it all hit me.

Maybe it was her being on top, me submitting, her taking control. Maybe it was her slim waist between my hands, her lips on mine before they kissed a trail over my jaw, down my neck, and back up again. Maybe it was her paint-matted hair falling in a curtain over my face, or the slick heat of her sliding over my shaft, eliciting a guttural groan from me that sounded like something off National Geographic.

Whatever it was, it finally hit me.

I was kissing Mallory Scooter.

I was touching her. She was touching me. It was bad. It was wrong. I needed to stop, to push her away, to rewind time and go back to when I would never even entertain that she could want me like this.

But it was too late.

My next breath was a shaky one, and now it was my hands that trembled as I held her, as she rocked her hips, coating me in her climax. She moaned when the tip of my cock brushed her sensitive clit, her eyes fluttering closed before they shot open again. In seconds, she was off me, digging in a drawer somewhere near where her bed was set up in the corner opposite the living room.

There were no walls in her studio apartment, just one giant, open space. Still, that distance between us was too far, and I found myself crossing it to meet her again, sliding my erection between the gap of her thighs just to feel her warmth again.

She sighed, falling back into me, and I flexed my hips again, fucking her thighs and somehow knowing just from that that fucking her pussy would be the end of me.

Mallory spun in my arms, holding up a shiny gold packet. “Condom,” she rasped, and then she pushed me back again — this time, into her bed.

I fell into the sheets, her bed unmade from when she’d climbed out of it that morning. I smelled her all around me — in the sheets, on the pillows, in her hair that fell over me as she straddled my lap again. This time, she rolled that condom down over my shaft, and then she placed her hands on my shoulders, her eyes wide and locked on mine as she lowered down onto my tip.

I hissed, inhaling a breath so hot it felt like smoke in my lungs.

Mallory dropped a little lower, the tip of me stretching her open again, and with each centimeter that she dropped, I swore the fire spread. I felt it in my lungs, my veins, every muscle and joint and organ burning alive with one all-encompassing thought.

Mine.

I was fucked.

I knew it when she took me in completely, when she paused there with me inside her, our eyes locked, her lips parted and my bleeding heart in her fucking hands. She’d taken a part of me, and given me a part of her, and now — without the other — neither of us would be the same again.

Mallory’s breaths worked in time with her movements — an inhale each time she lifted, a shaky exhale each time she lowered — over and over, again and again, her hands braced on my shoulders, her eyes locked on mine. My grip was so tight on her hips I knew I’d leave a mark, but I couldn’t move them, couldn’t release for fear she’d disappear like a fantasy I’d had so many times.

Her pace was so slow, so torturous. I felt every centimeter of her walls pulsing around me, and the climax was right there, waiting to release, but never quite reached.

I rolled us, maneuvering until I was on top, and I pushed up onto my knees with my hands braced on her thighs. With each pump of my hips, I pulled her toward me, reaching a new depth that made her eyes roll shut. Her fists twisted in the sheets, yanking until one corner popped off the mattress.

She moaned and writhed under my pulses, her beautiful breasts bouncing with each new thrust. I fell down over her so I could suck each mound into my mouth, tongue circling her nipples, hands kneading the flesh. She was everywhere — her nails on my back, her ankles locked behind my ass, her breasts in my mouth, my hands, her pussy tightening around my cock.

I sucked in a breath when she pulled my mouth to hers again, kissing me hard, and I pumped once, twice, a third time before I pressed so deep into her I saw stars.

She cried out, her moans living and dying in my mouth as I found my release inside her. Everything was still except for where I pulsed between her legs, and for that moment in time, I’d found the kind of ecstasy I thought only drugs could produce.

Maybe I blacked out.

Maybe I traveled through time, to another universe, another dimension.

I couldn’t be sure, but when I came to, I was on my back, panting, my fingers tangled in Mallory’s hair. Her leg was draped over my stomach, her arm over my chest, both of us riddled with such a fierce exhaustion that we couldn’t open our eyes.

For a while, it was just us breathing, fingers gently moving — mine in her hair, hers trailing a path from my pecs to my abdomen and back again. When our breathing smoothed out, I could hear the distant sound of the music still playing on the speaker downstairs, and the soft whiz of a car driving by on Main Street.

Mallory lifted her head, balancing her chin on my chest as her eyes searched mine. She quirked one brow. “I think you ruined my pants.”

I barked out a laugh, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of what she’d said or because I’d just realized that it was real. What had only happened in my dreams before tonight had just happened in reality.

I had a naked Mallory Scooter sprawled across me, and it was so much sweeter than anything I’d ever dreamed.