Teardrop Shot(53)

“Are you sure about this?” He paused, his eyes on mine.

I nodded. I had never been so sure, and it felt freeing. It felt powerful.

I slid my hand up his chest, around his neck, and pulled him down as I rose up to meet him. Because that was important to me, meeting him halfway. Fifty/fifty.

“God yes,” I said.

For that night, I was his.

For that night, he would be mine.





I woke the next morning and it took a second for everything to come back to me.

I was cramped back into the bed, and in a flash everything flooded in: The car. Reese. The wooded path at night. Crying. Falling apart. Him holding me. Then the more.

Feeling him.

Touching him.

Tasting him.

I looked over. He was sleeping on his stomach, his head tucked into his pillow, his arms crossed underneath it. The sheet had slipped down so the top of his ass was peeking out.

I scanned down that back, remembering how it had felt with him arched over me, thrusting inside of me. How I had raked my nails over him— I could see the marks today.

Shit, shit, shit. He had practice. Sometimes he was skins, sometimes not. They’d see what we’d done. Everyone would know.

I didn’t think. I shoved him off the bed.

His eyes flew open. He barked, flinging his hand to catch himself, but he was on the floor. “What the fuck?!”

I leaned over the side of the bed. “Do you think you’ll bruise?”

“What?” He sat up, scowling and grimacing. “Shit, woman. You’re insane.”

“I marked you last night. They’ll know today.”

He reached behind him, cringing, and my words began to penetrate. He cursed. “You’re right.” He blinked at me. “I’m going to have to fuck myself up, aren’t I?”

“Just go on the walking trail and fall on your back a few times. That should cover it up.”

“Shirtless?”

“You can say you went running and tripped?” I sat up on my knees, his shirt riding to the tops of my thighs.

I’d been a girl last night and decided his shirt was the only shirt I wanted to wear. The effect had been heady, for both of us, and he’d had me pinned underneath him a second later.

Eyeing my legs, he groaned. His head tipped back. “Shiiiiiiit. You’re going to be the death of me.” He got up, but grabbed for me.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll go and injure myself, but not before another quick one.” He threw me over his shoulder—his back flexing with the minimal effort it took him—and slapped my ass, cradling my cheek to feel it jiggle. “We’re taking a shower together.”

“You’re going to have to shower again.”

“I don’t care.”

When the water was half-warm, he ducked in, taking both of us.

I shrieked, but he slid me down his body, and from there it was quick work. He’d said quickie, so the clothes were ripped off, he was more than hard for me as I wrapped my hand around him, readying him between my legs.

“Fuck.” His arms dropped under my thighs, but he reached outside to the counter beside us.

“What are you doi—”

He brought a condom in, ripping it open with his teeth. Like teamwork, I took it and sheathed it over him.

“Fuck. Yeah.” He grunted, bouncing me up and catching me by the ass. With my back against the wall, he lowered me. I sank down on him, and then he was in, he paused, his forehead resting just beside my face. We shared a grin as the water rained down on us.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Hmmmm.” I’d barely answered before he was moving in me, stretching me, pushing in, pulling out, thrusting back in, rotating his hips to get me from all angles.

Good Lord.

I couldn’t catch my breath. We were moving in a rhythm, and he felt so damn good.

“Reese!” I gasped.

His hands flexed on my hips. He dropped his mouth to my shoulder. “You’re going to hate me.”

“Wha—”

That was my warning, before he was out of me and setting me down on the tile. My feet had only just found their balance and he was turning me around.

“What are you doing?”

He was on his knees, pushing my ass cheeks apart, and then his mouth was there.

I gasped, feeling his mouth and his tongue stroking me. Exploring.

A silent scream began to build. I couldn’t keep up with him, and then he was turning me again—to face him—and his mouth returned. He entered me once more, this time with his tongue, his hands holding my thighs apart. A new rhythm began, and I moaned, feeling my entire body slide toward bonelessness.

I was riding his face, and I had to grasp for the showerhead to hold me up.

Reese was relentless, determined to make me come, fast and hard, and with no regard for how that climax would rip me apart. I couldn’t hold the scream in this time. It ripped from my throat, and he reached up, his hand clamping over my mouth to stifle the sound. He continued licking me as my trembling began to wane.

“Holy shit.” I’d barely breathed out before he was standing again.

I just gave myself over to him, because he was manhandling me once more.

He turned me, pressed me into the shower wall, and angled my hips back. Still with the condom on, he surged inside of me, and I almost sighed from utter contentment. Falling back, my head rested against his shoulder as he pumped into me, one hand holding my hip and the other cupping my breast. He thrust over and over, in and out.