That One Night: A Pucking Around Prequel Novella (12)

“Yeah.”

“Do you feel the synchronicity? We’re beating in time. I feel locked in with you—”

“I feel it too,” he says. “From the moment you turned around on that barstool, I’ve been kinda freaking out. I don’t do this. I don’t—I don’t do feelings with hookups,” he adds awkwardly. “I—this is crazy. I feel like I’ve got a lit firework in my chest.” He leans in, cupping my cheek with his free hand, his thumb brushing over my parted lips. “Who the fuck are you?”

We hold each other’s gaze for a long moment before I reply. “You already know me, I think…don’t you?”

He nods, his gaze softening. “Yeah…yeah, I think maybe I do.”

That truth settles between us. We know each other. Not in any real sense, obviously. We’re two nameless strangers. But we know each other all the same. Sometimes people enter your life and it’s a meeting. But sometimes, it’s a meeting again. Déjà vu. Soul recognition. Whatever it is, we have it.

I know him. I’m safe with him. I want him.

I sink back down onto the edge of the bed and scoot back. He follows me, crawling over me with ease, the muscles in his arms taut as he braces himself. He sinks into the cradle of my hips, his hard length still trapped behind a layer of fabric. Hands on his shoulders, I pull him down with me.

Our lips meet in another kiss. This one is slower, deeper, but just as starved. I’d be content just to kiss him for the rest of the night. A great make-out session can be more intimate than sex. Thank god he seems to want more.

We work each other up as we explore with our hands. I’m no dainty, size two plastic groupie. I’ve got curves and I love them. Freckles, cellulite, scars. He seems more than happy with my body, gripping me under the thigh to spread me wider, pressing in with his hips. His hard cock grinds against my clit, the friction from his briefs rough and delicious.

I fight a shiver, heat building in my core. That empty ache is growing. I need to be filled. I want him inside me. Too curious for my own good, I slide a hand down his marble-sculpted chest, brushing my fingertips down the little trail of dark hair on his stomach that leads to the top of his briefs.

He knows what I want, and he tips up his hips, not breaking our kiss. I flip my hand, slipping it inside his briefs. My hand wraps around his impressive length and he groans, biting at my bottom lip.

“Fuck—yes, touch it,” he says against my mouth. “Feel all of me. Take me in, baby.”

I sigh, stroking him from root to tip with an eager hand. He’s thick and long, his skin velvety smooth. He’s going to feel so good inside me. I can hardly bear to wait. My pussy is more than ready for round two.

I pull on his briefs, sliding them down his hips, freeing his length. He rolls to his side, stripping the briefs off and tossing them to the floor. His thick thighs are nothing but muscle, dusted with dark hair. His calves are just the same, long and sculpted.

My gaze settles on his hard cock, and I’m reminded all over again that I am so deliciously straight. Fuck, I love cock. I’m literally salivating at the sight of him right now. I need to taste, need to learn what he likes. Before he can pin me down again, I roll onto my elbow, scooting down the bed, eager to taste him.

He stays on his back, stretched out and waiting, totally at ease with me. He’s got one arm tucked behind his head and the other in my hair. I roll up to my hands and knees, letting myself appreciate him for another second before I sink my mouth around his tip.

“Fuck—good girl. Suck me,” he groans, one leg sliding up until his foot is planted on the bed. The other relaxes, his hip flexors rotating to open himself up for me.

I eagerly tease him, licking and sucking, running my tongue around his tip. My hand stays firm around his thick base.

“Don’t play with me,” he growls, his hand tightening in my hair. “Show me what that mouth can do. Own me, baby girl. Take me deep.”

I happily comply, relaxing as I swallow him, feeling him there at the back of my throat. I suck, not caring that I’m making slurping noises.

“You feel amazing,” he croons, his hand gentle in my hair.

And he tastes amazing, smells amazing. I’m drowning in him. His cologne must be a body wash because he smells that good everywhere. It lingers on his skin. His scent alone is making me hornier. It’s warm and luxurious, woodsy, and so masculine.

God, this scent is my catnip.

My pussynip, comes the stupid thought. And now I’m snorting around his perfect cock, choking myself as I laugh at my own joke.

He stiffens, pulling my hair gently. “Hey—are you laughing?”

I pop off him, eyes watering as I shake my head, biting my lip.

But he can read me so well already. With a growl, he snatches me by the shoulders and drags me up his body, rolling us until he’s back between the cradle of my legs. “You think something’s funny?”

“No—” I shake my head, gasping as he grabs my thighs, spreading me wide.

His eyes are molten, the hazel all but swallowed by the black of his pupils. He rocks against me, his cock slick with my saliva as it slides over my slippery clit. God, I’m so wet for him.

We both groan. I fight a shiver, moving my leg to give me the right angle on friction as he grinds against me.

“Care to share with the team why you were laughing with your mouth on my dick?” he says, his voice dangerously low. “I think I need to fuck that mouth harder. Shove down your throat until you gag.”