Not My Match (The Game Changers, #2)(72)

I lose my sense of perception, how much time is passing, the breeze in the trees, the hardness of the car, the silky feel of his jacket as pleasure buzzes and builds and sharpens until it rushes at me and pulls me under. I call out his name, a tsunami feathering down my spine to my core. My body clenches around him, my entire body undulating as I ride the wave.

“Do you want me as much as I want you?” He stares deep into my eyes, and my heart flip-flops. It feels like a deeper question, layered with more meaning, nuanced with significance.

My reply is smothered as I kiss him, my hands already working the buckle on his belt, the button on his slacks, the zipper. I can’t believe he isn’t naked yet. With trembling fingers I shove his pants and tight underwear down, his length jutting out at me, long, hard, and thick. The rose-gold crown has a bead of come, and I brush my finger over it, unsure if this is going to work. It’s supposed to; that’s how we were designed, but . . .

“Tell me.” He stops my hand, his self-control vacillating when his lashes flutter.

“Yes, yes, yes, I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything. Please.” My eyes lock with his. “Make me yours.”

“Mine,” he breathes, a shudder racking his body as he cups my face. “Giselle . . . fuck . . .” He groans as I grasp his hip and map out the topography of his cock. My eyes can’t stop devouring all of him—the disheveled hair, the jerking muscles of his abdomen, the tip of him, mushroom shaped and veiny.

“I don’t have a condom,” he rasps out.

“I’m on the pill. I’m assuming you get tested regularly for physicals.”

“I do. You are? Why?”

“I’ve had irregular periods for years, painful . . .” I stop, not wanting to explain my menstrual cycle now.

“I’ve never had sex without condoms, but it’s you, baby, it’s you, and I’ll do whatever you want.” A laugh comes from him. “You make me say crazy shit.” His lips graze my neck, and I hold his head there.

“We can wait,” he drags out. “We can drive back to the penthouse and do this in my bed.”

My leg hooks around his hip, pulling him toward me. “Just put the tip in.”

“Like we’re in high school, huh?”

A slow smile curls my lips. “I’ve fantasized about the moment when the guy slides it in, the first bite of pain, then bliss—or I think. You’re big.”

“It will fit.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to video.”

“We are not making a sex tape.”

“Yet.” My hands curl around his shoulders. “I do want to watch it go in.”

“You are insane.”

“Mildly. Runs in the family.”

“I don’t know what this is,” he says. “I don’t know where it’s gonna end up.”

Regardless of his obvious hesitation, this is right, and I want it all, the ugly with the good. He said he wouldn’t walk away, and I believe him. “We’ll figure it out together.” I flick my tongue over his nipple, making him shudder.

“Come here,” he murmurs, adjusting my legs, bending my knees so that I’m halfway sitting up, my palms pressed to the hood of the car. He scoots the jacket closer to him. He steps back and stares, his chest heaving, his eyes dilated and low. I feel sexy and beautiful, bare and ready for him.

“Watch us, baby.” Backing up, he lines himself up with my center and puts the crown in, then stops and slants his mouth over mine and kisses me. I dip my head to see through the space between us. His abdominal muscles shudder as he moves his hips back and forth slowly. My body has a primitive reaction, clenching around him. Trembling, I look up at him, seeing the glazed look on his face. He sets up a steady pace, rhythm sure and careful, never pushing hard. Sweat mists his skin, down his throat, through the trail of hair on his chest. In the distance, the sun is setting, the sky turning a vivid orange pink through the trees.

“More . . . ,” I whisper.

“Not yet, beautiful.”

His thumb caresses my clit, rotating in sync with his shallow thrusts. He looks at me, and our eyes cling. His green depths shimmer, and I read the nervousness in that gaze, underneath the desire, the hope that he’s making this everything I’ve ever wanted. Oh, Devon. You beautiful man.

“Baby . . .”

The endearment sets me off. Tension builds and explodes. I can’t breathe as lights burst, fireworks releasing in a kaleidoscope of color. I soar over the edge of bliss, shaken and torn, writhing as I cry out. He captures my words with his lips, his hips thrusting all the way home. A bite of pain hits as his chest rumbles with soft, comforting words. Not able to hold the position I’m in, I fall back on the car, my arms weights. He grasps my hips and adjusts, swiveling deeper as he pants.

“Giselle, fuck, so tight. Are you okay?”

“Yes, please, Dev, more.”

His jacket works its way to the edge of the car and falls to the ground as he thrusts, the cool metal of the car under me as he owns me, his hands lacing with mine as he leans down and kisses me.

My body arches up to his, my legs around his hips, my pelvis dragging out every long, perfect stroke. Kicking up his tempo as he mumbles my name, he hitches my leg to his shoulder, grabs my hips, and finds a new angle. He shouts into the darkening night and releases inside me, the spill of him hot and sticky.