Fumbled (Playbook #2)(60)

“Yes,” I force out between my ragged breathing. “I believe you.”

TK doesn’t speak.

And holy shit. Whoever said actions speak louder than words was not lying.

His huge hands pull my thighs apart as wide as he deems necessary and finally—FINALLY!—he dips his tongue between my thighs.

I collapse against my pillows and the world goes black, which I’m pretty sure is because my eyes roll to the back of my head.

My entire body is primed and ready to go not only from the kisses and attention he’s peppered me with for the last who knows how long but from our very first encounter in the alley. My body has been yearning for him for months. Well, if I’m honest with myself, I’ve been yearning for his touch for years.

Which is why, when his mouth closes over me, his beard brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, it only takes approximately 1.26 seconds before my insides clench. My toes curl and my lips go numb as the orgasm literally builds from head to toe.

I push off the bed—or I levitate, who really knows—and watch as TK devours me like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted. He’s not doing this out of obligation, my pleasure is his pleasure, and knowing that I’m turning him on is the catalyst to the earth-shaking, body-breaking orgasm that rips through me. My hands fly to TK’s head, digging into the hair I love even more at this very moment. I don’t know if I’m holding him to me or pushing him away as I ride the waves of ecstasy flowing through my body, but I do know TK doesn’t let up, which is why my insides tighten with another orgasm.

“Oh . . . my . . . god . . . TK.” Each word more moan than anything else. “I can’t.” I arch my back and dig my feet into the mattress to try to pull away, unsure another orgasm like I just had won’t rip me apart at the seams.

I get nowhere and TK doesn’t stop.

No.

TK grabs my already shaking legs, lifts my ass clean off the bed, and drapes my thighs over his shoulders. I’m helpless in this position. I can’t pull away, I can’t move toward him. Nothing.

Except feel.

“Give it to me, Poppy,” he growls out before dropping his mouth back down and slipping a single finger inside me.

That’s the end for me.

A scream I’m pretty sure only dogs can hear is torn from my throat as the tension building in my core explodes. Aftershocks leave me lying on the bed, my body convulsing, as I come back down to earth. Every inch of me tingles and I’m pretty sure if I had the spare energy to open my eyes, sparks would be shooting from every pore.

“You good?” TK asks, his beard tickling my neck.

“I’m dead,” I say between harsh, deep breaths. “You killed me.”

“And I can do it again.” I don’t even have to look at him to see the smug smile on his face.

“There’s no way I can . . .” I stop myself, remembering that was only the appetizer and I want the entrée. “Never mind.” I roll over, opening my eyes. I bring my hands to his chest, moving them down . . . down . . . down. Until I reach his . . . “Wait.” I sit up straight, not needing to look hard since the lights are still on. “You still have on pants?”

“Yeah.” He answers my rhetorical question.

“Obviously.” I roll my eyes and send up a quick prayer to the God of Sexy Times he won’t ruin the mood. “Take them off!”

I don’t mean to yell, but holy hell! You can’t make a woman come her brains out twice and not be prepared for the next stage of the game. It’s in the Sex Rule Book or something.

“Damn.” He holds up his hands in surrender and smirks, still looking cocky . . . in the wrong way. “I’ll get right to that, ma’am.”

“I will hurt you, TK.”

I’m revved up on lust and emotion. I am not the one.

But then he does drop his pants. And maybe I am the one because Holy. HOT.

I mean . . .

DAMN.

“Penises aren’t supposed to be pretty,” I say, not making eye contact . . . not even close.

“You’ve seen it before.” He walks to his discarded suit jacket and pulls his wallet out of the inside pocket. He flips it open, and before I know it, he has a foil packet in his hand.

“I haven’t seen it like this.” I somehow remember how to speak as I watch his hands roll the condom over his impressive manhood. I clench my thighs together again, amazed I still have feeling down there.

TK moves to the bed, his quadriceps flexing with every step. The cuts at his hips point down to his erection, which is standing tall and swaying in a way so hypnotizing, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to break free of his spell.

Not that I want to.

“Come here,” I whisper, grabbing his hand as soon as he sits on the bed and pulling him on top of me. With my free hand, I try—and fail—to wrap my fingers around him.

I don’t close my eyes this time and neither does he as I guide him to my opening. Ever so slowly, he pushes in, letting my body adjust one inch at a time until he’s buried inside me.

He flexes his hips but pulls back when I flinch from the bite of pain it causes.

“Are you all right?” he asks. His arms are shaking on each side of my head, and with the light on, I can see the beads of sweat building on his forehead.