Just My Type(69)

Baker’s head immediately jerks forward to attack my mouth, but I quickly pull back before he can reach it. Grabbing one of his hands off my hip, I stand up, pulling him with me as I go. I start to walk backward with his hand in mine, when he suddenly yanks me against him.

Neither one of us speaks. We just stare at each other while the soft hum of a sports announcer talks about batting averages, in my shadowy living room with the glow of the TV flashing across our faces. My body is flush against Baker, and I can feel him hard and heavy between us. I want to feel him hard and heavy between my legs, and I’m getting wetter and wetter just thinking about it, as both of us stand here looking at each other, not saying a word.

I pull away from Baker again when he starts to lean toward me, and his mouth is almost on mine again. Still holding tightly to his hand, I turn away from him and lead him through the kitchen, glancing back at him over my shoulder as we walk. His eyes meet mine and they’re full of fire, the clench of his fist down by his side and the stiff set of his shoulders telling me that since I’ve given the green light, he’s finished with the teasing.

Pulling him inside the dark laundry room, Baker closes the door behind him, and before I know it, his chest is pressing into my back, crowding me against the front of the washing machine. My hands are resting on top of the cold metal, and one of Baker’s arms wraps around me, tugging me back into his chest as his mouth comes down to the side of my neck.

I tilt my head to give him better access as he kisses and nibbles and sucks on the skin right below my ear, his arm tightening around my waist as his free hand reaches around and starts fumbling with the button and zipper of my jeans. There’s nothing but the dim glow of a small nightlight plugged into the outlet by the door, but it’s just enough for me to be able to look down and see Baker’s hand as it disappears down the front of my jeans.

My hand flies off the top of the washer to clamp around Baker’s wrist, letting out a low, pleasure-filled gasp when his fingers find my clit and immediately start circling it. Neither one of us has said a word yet, and there’s something even hotter about being in this small, dark room, with nothing but the sounds of our heavy breathing, as Baker stands behind me, pushing my body into the front of the washer as he rubs and circles and moves those fingers between my legs, preparing me for what’s about to happen. I’m already prepared. I’ve been prepared since the first time he put his hands on me. As mind-blowing as it feels to have his hand down my pants again, I need more.

With my hand still wrapped tightly around his wrist, I yank his out of my pants and quickly turn around to face him. He doesn’t move an inch when I turn, and he’s still crowding me against the washing machine. There’s a muscle ticking in his jaw as he looks at me, his shoulders tense, his arm muscles tightly clenched as he holds himself in check. Still making sure I want this, even though I said it out loud and dragged him back here into this room. With my eyes locked on his, I shimmy my jeans down my hips, keeping my red lace thong on as I go, bumping into the front of Baker with each movement I make. I’ve only managed to pull one leg out of these stupid tight jeans, when he’s suddenly on me, unable to hold himself back any longer, thank God.

His arms are around me, and he’s lifted me right up off my feet and plopped me down on top of the washing machine, his mouth crashing against mine. He kisses me like he can’t get enough of me, his tongue pushing deeper and his arms around me tightening, holding me securely against the front of him. My leg without the jeans dangling from the knee wraps around Baker’s hip, tugging him closer, needing this to happen before I die from wanting him so much.

Now that I’ve taken half my pants off and Baker knows I’m not fucking around, we’re a frantic mess of punishing kisses and quickly roving hands. My hands move between us and I hastily start tugging down his athletic pants and boxer briefs until they’re right below the cheeks of his ass, and his cock springs out. Baker never stops kissing me as he touches every part of me he can reach, from my neck to my shoulders, over my breasts and down the outside of my bare thigh that’s currently wrapped around him. Breaking the kiss, Baker keeps his mouth against mine, just the lightest brush of his lips as he pulls his wallet out of the back pocket of his athletic pants, grabbing a condom out of it before tossing the wallet to the ground.

I look down between us, excited pants coming out of me as I watch Baker sheathe himself with the condom. As soon as he’s finished, his fingers slide down the edge of the lace between my legs, tugging it roughly aside with one finger. Pressing his hips forward just the tiniest bit, the tip of his cock slides through my wetness. His mouth is back on mine, swallowing my moans of pleasure as he continues to slide himself through my wetness, the swollen head of his cock brushing against my clit every time he pushes forward. His hands smack down on the cheeks of my ass, squeezing and pulling me closer to him, my leg tightening around his hip as I teeter on the edge of the washing machine, with his cock pressing right against my opening.

“Fuck me like you hate me,” I break the kiss, speaking against his mouth.

I can feel the corner of his mouth tip up slightly as he holds himself perfectly still.

“Really?”

I roll my hips forward and tighten my leg around him, trying to get him to move, to finally put out the burning need between my legs that he started as soon as he kissed me by my front door.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I heard it somewhere once, and I’ve always wanted to say it. How about, fuck me like you’re super pissed about something?”