Down and Dirty (Hot Jocks #5)(50)
“God, yes,” he pleads on a shaky exhale.
I push the sheets aside, aligning myself with his full, impressive erection. Maybe it’s just morning wood, but it’s incredible that he’s so hard for me already. I grip his base, giving his thick shaft a few precursory strokes. When I lean in to kiss him, he teases my clit with his thumb until I can’t bear to wait another moment.
Another second of foreplay would be torture. I need him inside me. Now.
One slow, deliberate inch at a time, I lower myself onto him, and the second he’s inside me, we moan in unison. How the hell does this feel even better than it did last night? I’ve only taken half of him when his hands clamor for my hips, easing me down until I’ve taken every last inch of his length.
“Holy f-fuck,” I stutter, trying desperately to find my breath.
He squeezes my hip for reassurance. “That okay?”
Okay? It’s more than okay. It feels more heavenly than I thought was possible on this earth.
But right now, I can’t possibly form a sentence, so I meet the question with action, rocking my hips against him slowly, guiding him to the place deep inside me that I know will be my total undoing. He moans my name, my full name—Aubree, not Bree—over and over as I ride him, my hands pressed against his shoulders as he holds tight to my ass.
“I’m so close, baby,” he says through clenched teeth, his thumb circling my clit as he rocks his hips against mine.
“Me too,” I pant.
As soon as the words leave my lips, my body follows, twitching and pulsing until pleasure is pouring through me in slow, hot waves. I’m still riding my high as he falls over the edge after me, emptying himself into me in hot bursts. When he’s totally drained, I collapse into him, resting my head against his heaving chest until my breath slows back to normal.
“Wow,” he whispers, running his fingers through my hair. “How am I ever going to let you leave the bed now that I know how much fun that is?”
I smile against his chest. We lie there, intertwined with each other for a long, perfect moment before reality kicks back in. Unfortunately, it comes in the form of a weird noise coming from outside our door.
At first, I think it’s knocking, and I frantically tug the sheets up to cover my naked self. But then the sound grows louder and louder, joined by a muffled holler worthy of the sidelines at an Ice Hawks game.
And that’s when it hits me. It’s not knocking outside our door. It’s applause.
Am I in the middle of some twisted dream, or do we have a freaking audience?
I shoot up in bed, scrambling to grab my phone from the end table. It’s 10:28. Almost a half hour after we agreed we’d meet our friends for brunch. So, yeah, that would be them outside our door.
“Oh my God,” I blurt, showing him the time.
I can hardly make words happen right now, but Landon seems surprisingly unfazed. He just chuckles, raking his fingers through his messy hair before shoving back the sheets.
“Well, I guess we shouldn’t leave our friends waiting.”
I’m awestruck at how casual he is about this, but one look at the smirk on his lips has me smiling right along with him. I guess at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter. Our curtains are drawn, so it’s not like anyone saw anything. And who cares what our friends heard? At least now we don’t have to figure out how to tell them that Landon’s V-card has officially been swiped.
We fumble out of bed, scrambling to put on whatever clean clothes are on the top of our suitcases. I use the bathroom and dress quickly in a black-and-white striped T-shirt dress, strictly because it means not having to put together an outfit. Paired with my favorite pair of strappy sandals, I can almost pass for someone who tried this morning. I clean up last night’s makeup that I forgot to take off, then brush my teeth, combing out my sex hair with my fingers. Yesterday’s half updo has left me with a few curls intact, and with a swipe of deodorant and a quick brush of my teeth, I don’t look half bad.
Meanwhile, Landon somehow is making a pair of cargo shorts look good, an almost impossible feat. That hockey player butt possesses magical powers, I swear.
“Ready to go?” He reaches out a hand, and I lace my fingers tightly through his.
“Ready as I can be in under five minutes.” I catch one last glimpse of myself in the mirror, tucking back a stray hair. “You sure I look okay?”
“Gorgeous as always,” he says, sweeping his thumb over my lower lip giving me one last gentle, grateful kiss. “Thank you again for last night. And this morning. And for . . . everything, for trying with me.”
“Trust me, Landon.” I give his hand a squeeze. “You were well worth the wait.”
I suck in a deep breath as Landon flips the latch on our door and tugs it open, revealing our cheering group of friends on the stone patio. Justin puts two fingers into his mouth and lets out a piercing whistle, while Bailey breaks into the Ice Hawks’ fight song.
These fricking idiots.
I squint into the sunlight as I follow Landon’s lead out onto the patio, stepping into the oppressive heat. The cheers continue as Landon locks the door behind us, and Sara holds out a hand to high-five me. It feels like we’re being bombarded by the paparazzi, not our friends.
“Good morning, guys,” Landon says, trying and failing to mask the fact that he’s smiling with pride.