CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Lucas
My brother’s voice is in my ear, familiar and annoying.
“An away game this week. How are you feeling about it?” Brendan asks.
I lean back against the kitchen counter and stare at the city lights bleeding through the window. “Like I need more playing time to prove myself.”
“You’ve proven yourself for thirteen years. There isn’t much more you can do than that.”
“I know but with coming off this shoulder—”
“Why are you doubting yourself? Your value is in your experience as much as it is in your skill.”
“That only matters if somebody—the coaches see it.”
He exhales. “You’re worried.”
I nod more to myself than to him. “Of course, I am. Second preseason game is this weekend. Roster cuts will be made after—or before—the third one. Then the season starts.”
That two-week countdown is wearing on me, but I just keep going out there and playing my game.
“Well, you need to be on the field on Sunday so you can prove yourself more if that’s even possible.”
“It’s anyone’s guess what a coach is looking for besides talent and doing well under pressure.” I roll my shoulder. The ache is there. No matter how good it feels otherwise, there is always that ache there. “I didn’t come this far to be cut.”
“And you didn’t go that far to sleep with the doctor either, but here we are.”
I cough over a laugh. “What?”
“Oh, come on. You’re only answering my texts with one-word responses. You’re too busy to answer my calls unless I catch you off guard and you pick up like you did just now. You’re only talking about football. Do I need to point out any more ways you’re trying to avoid answering the question?”
“You’re an ass.” I laugh though.
“And I’m the one who told you to break the rules and go for it, so I’m not sure why you feel the need to hide it.”
“I don’t, it’s just . . .”
“Good. Bad. Incredible. Too much effort. Not good enough sex—”
“Jesus, dude. Let me speak.” He laughs like the asshole he is. “How about I don’t want to talk about it because I don’t want to jinx it?”
“That good huh?”
That’s the crux of it, isn’t it?
It’s just that good.
Before I can say anything else, there’s a sharp knock on the door, and while I love my brother, I’m pretty sure I prefer to spend my evening with the person doing the knocking.
“I have to go,” I say.
Brendan chuckles. “I’m sure you do.”
I hang up without saying anything else.
When I open the door, everything in my body locks up.
Emery is standing there with a coat buttoned to her chin, hair loose around her shoulders, eyes dark and nervous and determined.
I fight the urge to yank her against me and take until I can’t take anymore. I’ll probably do that in a second, but first I’ll use a few manners.
“It’s August in Austin and you’re wearing a winter coat.”
She steps inside and shuts the door behind her as she says, “I was cold.” She turns slowly back around to face me, fingers going to the buttons.
My pulse thunders as I watch her undo one after another after another. When the coat hits the floor, so does my jaw.
A lace bra and garters.
Bare skin.
A whisper of silk hugging curves I already know too well.
“Jesus,” I murmur and the sound is one of pure appreciation. “No wonder you’re so cold.”
Her eyes devour mine. They beg and ask and want, and it’s the sexiest way anyone has ever looked at me.
“Hmm,” she says as she steps out of her coat, which is when I notice the sky-high heels that complement the outfit.
“You trying to kill me, Doc?”
She steps closer so that her perfume fills the space. “I’m trying to be touched.”
That’s it. I’m on her before I even realize I’ve moved. Hands gripping her hips. Body backing hers into the wall hard enough to rattle the frame behind her.
“Three days,” I growl against her lips. “Three goddamn days and all I’ve thought about is this. Is you.”
She gasps when I cup her breasts through the lace. “Then stop thinking, Lucas.”
Her hands fist in my shirt. I feel it everywhere—heat, hunger, and need clawing its way up my spine.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” I murmur, voice raw with need. “You walk into my place like this? Baby, there’s no way this is going to be gentle.”
She shakes her head. Her hand slides inside my waistband and cups my cock that is already rock hard and aching. “I don’t want gentle.”
I lift her and her legs wrap around my waist without hesitation.
“I want this.” A kiss teeming with desire. “You.”
I turn, set her ass on the counter, and step into the space between her thighs.
“I want hard. I want fast. Never wanted anything more.” Her breath comes in harsh pants, and it’s never sounded sexier. Her fingers twist in my shirt again as she yanks me closer so our lips meet, our tongues dance, and our bodies feel each other’s heat.
My hands slide over her skin. Memorizing. Claiming. Desperately wanting. I press my forehead to hers, forcing this to slow just a fraction. Needing it to.
“How has it only been days and I already need you like this?”
Her fingers thread through my hair as she pulls on it to force my head back to look at her. “Because you haven’t had all of me yet.” She leans back on the counter, resting her heels on either side of my hips, and spreads her knees. “I want you to taste me.”
Jesus fucking Christ. Can this woman be any more perfect?
I slide my hands down her thighs, anchoring my hands at the back of her knees, and drag her closer to the edge. I drop to my knees.
She’s already soaked, the evidence is all over her thighs.
“Look at you,” I groan as my balls tighten and my mouth waters.
I dip down for my first taste. I slide my tongue between the slit of her pussy, my eyes almost rolling in the back of my head at how good she tastes. God, I want her.
But I tell myself to meet her eyes. To watch her face. To see what I can do to her.
I spear my tongue into her and feel her tighten around me. Her hands twist in my hair as I watch her lips fall lax and her head fall back.
“Lucas,” she moans as her taste owns my tongue. “Please. Oh God, please.”
I replace my tongue with my fingers and lick my way up and focus on her tender clit at the top. I suck on the spot as my fingers curl up and over inside her.
She jerks and then gasps a pure, needy plea that vibrates through the room.
She’s trembling against my mouth. Her thighs flex tight against my shoulders, and her hands tighten in my hair, holding me in place with a desperation that matches my own.
Every flick of my tongue, every swirl, draws a ragged mewl from her that owns every part of me.
Her body draws taut as a shudder rolls through her and around my fingers. Her hips buck and thighs tense.
“Lucas . . . please. Right there.” And then her broken cry fills the room as her body absorbs the orgasm.
I keep my mouth right where it is, licking at her slickness until the contractions fade.
Her hands ease in my hair, but all I can think about is burying my cock in that tight heat of hers and losing myself.
“Emery.” My voice is hoarse as I stand, body primed for release. I pull her legs down off the counter. I don’t trust that she can stand, and I don’t trust that I can wait so I guide her to turn around, chest on the counter and ass in the air for me.
Fucking hell.
Her pussy is swollen from my lips, and her thighs are glistening with evidence of an orgasm well had. As soon as I’m finished jacketing up, I run my hands over the globes of her ass, lining up my cock at her entrance.
I press in an inch and then pull it back out. It’s a goddamn rush to hear her whimper and see her try and back up on it, knowing that I just made her come and she’s still desperate for more of me.
I sink into her, slow at first to feel every inch, relishing the heat and the way her pussy stretches to fit me, begging me to go deeper with the first rock of my hips. I want her with a desperation I’ve rarely felt before.
All I see is her.
All I want is her.
All I need is her.
I grip her hips, pull back out agonizingly slowly, and then slam back in with a grunt.
She arches her back, bracing herself on the counter. “Harder.”
I don’t think there’s much choice because I’m blinded by sensations.
Hot.
Wet.
Tight.
She clenches down as if to taunt me and I’m fucking gone. I slam into her again, my hips grinding, and the pleasure owning me.
I lean forward, my palm pressing to her lower back, pinning her to the counter while I drive into her over and over. Sweat breaks on my forehead as she reaches to her sides and holds on to the edge of the counter for leverage.
The sounds—her whimpers, my grunts, the slap of our bodies colliding—fill my ears and urge me on.
The pace is relentless. The pleasure is so good it’s unbearable.
The desperation in her moans, the way she pushes back to meet my every thrust, fuck if it doesn’t undo something in me.
I want to fill every inch of her.
I want to empty everything I have into her.
I want to claim every fucking part of her.
“Em,” I groan as my body heats and my balls ache. As the clenching of her pussy draws me over the edge into a free fall of white-hot heat that detonates every nerve in my body.
My hips jerk and my head dizzies as the orgasm hits. The noise I make is not human—it’s ragged, unrestrained, a total surrender to the need that’s consumed me when it comes to her. My world narrows to the heat and the slick and the ungodly perfection of how she fits around me.
My vision whites out for a second, but she’s still there, still shuddering under my grip, leaving me with the desire to never let her go.
I collapse against her, cock still pulsing. She’s limp beneath me, every muscle slack and spent, as I press absent kisses to her spine, waiting for us to both catch our breaths before I say anything.
She shifts, turning some for comfort. I shift off her and catch her profile—flushed cheeks, dark lashes, and the unmistakable glint of satisfaction in her eyes.
“You alive?” I manage, my voice a smirk and a rasp all at once. I slide out of her, and she emits a soft whimper.
“I’ll let you know when I regain the ability to form complete sentences.”
“Doc, you come to my door in that outfit, you best expect to be incoherent for a few hours.”
“Is that a promise?” she murmurs.
“That is most definitely a promise.”