Drop Dead Sexy(22)

“Aren’t we cocky?”

Catcher smirked at me. “You should know since you’ve had me in both your mouth and *.”

I rolled my eyes. “I meant you’re cocky to think we’re going to need that many condoms.”

“I like to keep you guessing.” He leaned in to graze my bottom lip with his teeth. He then suited up in a condom. “I’m calling in that bottoms up from before.”

“Huh?”

“When we were drinking earlier, I told you I’d have you bottoms up before the night was over.”

“Oh yeah.”

“So I wanna see that perfect ass in the air.”

“As you wish.” I grinned as I pushed myself back to the center of the bed. Then I rose up on my hands and knees. When I felt the mattress dip, I glanced over my shoulder to see Catcher scooting over to me on his knees. Feeling flirtier than usual, I swayed my hips back and forth. “Is this how you wanted me, Agent Mains?”

“Hell, yes.” Catcher brought his palm down hard on one of my ass cheeks. I jumped at the pleasure-filled pain. When I stared back at him, he winked. “Thought I’d throw in a little S&M.”

“I liked it.”

Catcher’s response was to smack my other cheek. Just as the stinging began to slightly wane, he slammed hard into me, causing him to grunt and me to whimper. After that first thrust, he brought both his hands to my hips. He began a punishing rhythm of slamming into me while jerking my hips back to meet him. If there were any cobwebs left, they were getting fully and thoroughly swept clean.

His hands left my hips to come to my shoulders. He eased me up to where I was sitting on my knees. He continued pumping in and out of me, but now he had access to my breasts and *. As one hand squeezed and kneaded my breast, the other went to tease my clit.

I dipped my head back for him to kiss me. Damn, I loved his kisses. His tongue swirled and danced with mine as his dick kept working its magic. I could feel another orgasm building. Holy f*ck. This is what I had been missing out on all these years? After Catcher, I would never be able to go without sex six weeks, least of all six years. It wasn’t long before I cried out as the third orgasm—yes, third—of the night came charging through me like a locomotive.

Catcher maneuvered my limp body around to lie me on my back. He gave me a sexy smile as he brought my legs up to rest on his shoulders. “Fuuuuucccck,” he groaned when he thrust back into me. With a determined expression on his handsome face, he began pounding me relentlessly. We both cursed and groaned and moaned with ecstasy before Catcher’s body tensed, and he came with a thunderous yell.

He collapsed onto the mattress beside me. His chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath. He swept an arm across his forehead. “Damn,” he muttered.

“Yeah.”

He propped up on one arm to stare at me. “That was seriously amazing.”

“Yeah,” I repeated.

Catcher laughed. “Is it always like that for you? You can be honest.”

“Trust me, it’s never been like that for me.” If he only knew. Well, he knew about Eric, but that was only part of my sad sexual history.

Instead of the “I am the man” look I expected to flash in his eyes, Catcher appeared serious. “Same for me. There’s something to be said for a chick who has gone without.”

I snorted. “Thanks a lot.”

He stroked his chin in thought. “But it must be more than that because even though the storeroom sex was hot, this was mind blowing.”

“I thought so, too.”

Catcher’s intense gaze held mine as he searched my eyes. “Olivia Sullivan, where have you been all my life?”

“Lost. Searching,” I answered honestly.

Catcher leaned in to give me a lingering kiss. When he pulled back he groaned. “Damn that mouth of yours.” He grinned. “One kiss and you’ve already got my dick up and running for another round.”

“Really?” I nibbled my bottom lip as I worried about having sex three times in one night. I wasn’t sure my vagina could take it. All I could picture was it starting to smoke from overuse, or it having an electrical surge and shorting out.

“I want you riding me this time with those perfect tits bouncing for me to see.”

At Catcher’s naughty words, my vagina pulled herself off the floor, dusted herself off, and got ready to ride again. Yippee-ki-yay!





For the first time in my life, and hopefully the last, the sound of a rooster crowing jolted me out of a deep sleep. The grating noise sent me shooting straight up in bed. Frantically, my drowsy gaze spun around the room, desperately taking in my unfamiliar surroundings. The shitty polyester curtains, pressed-wood furniture, and the overall funky smell permeating the air meant only one thing.

I was in a cheap hotel/motel room.

And then as it hit me, a groan of shame escaped my lips. I slapped my hand over my eyes, trying to shield myself from the mortification as last night’s events played through my head like an X-rated movie complete with the seedy bow-chicka-wow-wow music. I couldn’t help wondering what the hell had gotten into me. Yeah? I’d been in a sex drought, but last week, I would have never allowed a stranger to take me home—well, to a hotel room. What made last night any different? Then I remembered my mother’s lingerie shower, coupled with my talk with Jill, and I realized where things had gone wrong.