The Dugout(69)

“You should tell him you can’t imagine living anywhere else, call him on his bluff.”

I press my head against Carson’s shoulder. “The scary thing is, if I told him I wanted to live there, he’d make it happen. He can afford it, but I’d feel so terrible. I already know when I move in he plans on furnishing the place too, so I want to keep expenses really low.”

Carson presses another kiss against my neck. “You’re one of the good ones, Milly. There are people who’d take advantage of your brother, other siblings who’d think it wasn’t a big deal to use their sibling’s money, but not you.”

“I don’t love him because of his money. I love him because he’s one of my best friends. I uh . . . actually told him about you.”

“I expected you would. Did he tell you I was a douche and to stay away?”

I chuckle and lean deeper into his embrace as he clicks on each link, checking out the approved apartment choices from Cory. “He was really happy. Asked if you held my hand. It’s a known thing among Cory and the boys, that I’m happy with having someone to hold my hand, to like me for who I am, not who some guy wants me to be.”

“Did you tell him I’m infatuated with you? That I’m head-over-heels obsessed and not because you know how to fix any swing that comes your way, but because your slider and change-up give me a boner?”

I jab him with my elbow in the chest and he laughs out loud. “I didn’t talk about boners with my brother, but I’m glad to know where you stand.”

He moves his lips up my neck to the sensitive spot behind my ear, making my nipples hard in seconds. “Come on.” He slides his hand up my stomach to my breast where he cups it and passes his thumb over my hardened peaks. “You know there’s so many more layers to you that I can’t seem to stop thinking about.”

Since his pelvis is pressed against mine, I can feel his erection poking the back of my ass, and I really love how easy it is to turn him on. It gives me a sense of power I’ve never felt before, knowing he sees me as an attractive and irresistible woman.

I shift my backside against his length, causing him to grown, and because he instills confidence in me, I reach for the hem of my camisole and pull it up and over my head.

He sucks in a harsh breath as I lean back and bring both of his hands to my breasts. I grip the back of his neck to keep me in place and lift up so I’m sitting on his lap, my legs spread so I’m straddling him, his hardened length right beneath me.

“Jesus, Milly,” he groans into my ear and kisses my shoulder.

I work my hips, grinding into him and loving the way his chest rolls against my back, how his hands seem to not function smoothly as I take over the moment. He’s slightly clumsy, lost in his lust for me, and it’s empowering. He’s a confident man, and unsurprisingly exudes prowess when it comes to the bedroom, but in the moment, when he’s turned on to this point, he loses finesse. Some might find it an unattractive quality, but I love it. It’s raw. Real. All for me.

Wanting to try something different, I reach behind me and pull his length out of his boxer briefs so his cock is pointing straight up against his flat stomach, and then I bend slightly so my ass cheeks hug his cock. Oh God, he’s so warm. Hot against me

He hisses as his hands leave my breasts and go straight to my hips where he moves me up and down, his groans filling the early morning quiet.

With each pass, his grip grows tighter and tighter until he calls out my name and pumps even harder. He stills and shouts, “Fuck,” as he comes.

Smiling to myself, I slow down. I did that. His front slumps against my back and his lips find my skin again, his breathing hard and sporadic.

“Christ . . . Mills.” He shifts me backward on his lap so I’m completely reliant on him holding me up. He smooths his hand down my body, his lips continuing to sweep across my skin as his hand disappears under my underwear, finding my arousal. “You are so fucking perfect. You’re wet from making me come. Do you know how fucking hot that is?”

His fingers slide past my clit and I prepare myself for a very short bout of foreplay. He’s not going to have to do much because he’s right, I did get turned on from making him come. It’s not just because he has the most gorgeously sculpted body I’ve ever seen, but because I can hear his passion for me in his groans, the way he says my name, his cursing when I touch him a certain way. It’s like he needs me to know every pressure point on his body.

“Right there,” I moan, spreading my legs wider.

His fingers slide easily over my clit, as I hook my feet around his calves and move my pelvis lightly up and down with his fingers, my orgasm building in my center, every last ounce of pleasure pooling in the middle. Building and building and building until I can’t hold back anymore, and my body is thrown into white-hot pleasure.

I call out his name as my clit throbs against his fingers, soaking up every last swipe until I can’t take it anymore, and I shut my legs tightly, my body humming and quaking from how hard I just came.

“Oh God,” I say, my voice shaking as I turn my body and curl into him.

He kisses the top of my head and holds me close to him. “Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

“Perfect,” I answer, in disbelief at how good he can make me feel in the matter of seconds.

This isn’t just a passionate romp with a guy I like, this is something deeper. Our connection dives way past the surface and is going past layers to the very core of our souls.