Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Franky
There had been a distinct shift in the energy between us. Sex had a habit of changing the game.
But there was more to it than that. We were talking, and color me shocked that he was interested in my work. He had no problem following along, either, and had even asked intelligent questions.
Not such a dumb jock after all.
It had been a long time since I slept in the same bed as a man—Marcus, actually, two years ago—and I was nervous.
I took a shower after dinner while Jason tidied up and called room service to pick up the dirty dishes.
Cleaning up would make me feel better, and I imagined the sperm had already made their way to my uterus (probably high fiving each other on the way).
There would be another chance during the night.
I shivered at the thought. More sex. More orgasms. More of that perfect weight on me, his calloused hands kneading my butt, maybe his mouth on my breasts.
He hadn’t done that yet, and I longed to have him imprint himself on every part of me.
I was at risk of becoming attached here.
Hopefully I’d be brave enough to metaphorically bite the penis off and send him on his way.
When I came out of the bathroom, the lights were dim except for one nightlight on his side.
He has a side.
He was under the covers, shirtless and grinning. “Cute T.”
It was a picture of a snail with the slogan, “Snailed it!”
“My brother Devon got it for me.” I slipped under the covers. “Are you looking forward to the new season?”
He knew I was nervous, but he didn’t mock. “Yeah, I am. I felt like I’d done all I could in Boston, and to be honest, I wanted to be closer to family.”
“Sean said you don’t really get along with your dad.”
“Oh, he did, did he?”
Oh dear. “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”
“No, it’s fine. Just odd to think of you talking about me to Sean.”
“So when you say you want to be closer to family—”
“I mean Theo and his lot. Ezra and Liam. My mom, too. But not Nick.”
“How come?”
He leaned back, his arm behind his neck to reveal a surprisingly attractive tuft of underarm hair. I wanted to snuggle in right there.
He noticed me noticing. Another cocky smirk.
“Let’s keep the pillow talk to after.”
“After what?”
“After you show me what’s under that cute T-shirt.”
“You know what’s under there.”
He reached for my chest, turning his hand so his knuckles grazed the tops of my breasts through the cotton.
“Pretty tits, but no bra this time.” He lay back, pushed the covers down, and patted his abs. “Over here, Doc.”
“What?”
“I want you on top with your gorgeous tits bouncing while you bounce on my cock.”
I blew out a breath. “Your mouth.”
He leaned in, his lips close to mine. “Think you like my mouth.”
I did. I liked its shape, its texture under my thumb, that sensual curve when he found me amusing. But mostly I liked what came out of it: anything from sexual innuendo to soothing words, all wrapped up in that deep-seated confidence in who he was.
“Me in the cowgirl position would be counterproductive to the gravitational forces required to ensure your sperm reaches its goal.”
“Damn, those big words you use are hot. And I told you we were doing it my way.”
With just a fraction of his warrior strength, he scooped me up and placed me astride his stomach.
“Oof!” I gasped as I settled my sensitive flesh over the heat of his abs.
“No panties.”
“It seems foolish to place barriers in the way of this.”
His eyes smoked over. He liked that—taking me without protection, the intimacy of skin-on-skin, my core damp, and getting damper.
Pulling at the hem of my tee, he raised an eyebrow. I loved his eyebrows—they told stories, and right now, the story was: you’re in for a helluva good time. Was it odd to enjoy this?
Making a baby should be a joyful experience. But only if you were in a loving, committed relationship.
I didn’t need Jason Isner for anything more than his sperm. I didn’t need his gorgeous green eyes or square jaw or arrogant smile. I didn’t need the comfort of his body or the assurance he gave me that maybe I wasn’t so crazy to start this journey after all.
But this was nice. More than nice.
I peeled off my T-shirt, suddenly conscious of my age. My breasts in cups looked decent, but without, they just … flopped there.
He cupped the weight of one and gave a squeeze that made me squirm, producing more delicious sensation as my core became wetter.
Scooting up, he positioned himself so he could lick a nipple, then take it in his mouth with a lusty suck.
He plumped and kneaded as he suckled, creating rivulets of pleasure throughout my veins.
Behind my rear, I felt the insistent bob of his cock as it sought my attention. It would get its turn.
But first, I would get mine.
I pulled back, and he was forced to release my breast with a pop and a graveled groan. Leaning over to the nightstand, I picked up the dragonflies scarf I had removed earlier before we ate.
“Superstitious, Doc?”
“Not in the slightest.” I wrapped it around his wrist and twisted, then tied it to the corner of the headboard.
“Now, that’s unexpected,” he said, his voice husky.
“How many times did you say you tie your laces before a game?” I knew but I wanted him to say it.
“Three.” I tied two more knots in the scarf. “Still have my other hand free, though.”
“This bed is too large for me to tie off your other hand. But I expect you to be honorable and not use it.”
His lips twitched. “Honorable? Not sure I’ve ever been accused of that.”
I moved my rear back fractionally until it met his cock, and then I rubbed myself on him. His eyes fluttered closed, then opened.
“See how far you can get,” I murmured.
He placed his free arm behind his head. “You’re in charge, Francesca.”
I wasn’t but it was nice of him to say so.
Raising myself up a few inches, I reached behind to grip him, loving the hiss of pleasure he released as I touched him. And when I lined him up and sank down to take him in fully, his free hand formed a fist. He wanted to touch me badly.
So I touched him enough for both of us, all while we stared at each other. Watching this powerful man unable to move—or choosing to suffer under restraints from which he could easily break free—was exhilarating. I coasted my palms over his strong chest muscles as I seated myself deeper and deeper.
“You’re gonna need to move soon,” he gutted out.
“Worried I might get stuck here?”
I could feel him swelling inside me at the notion.
“No other place I want to be.” The words emerged ragged. “But you need to work my cock, baby. Show it some love.”
The way he spoke to me … I was so turned on. So close to coming, and neither of us had touched my clitoris. Just his mouth, his words, the fullness, the secrecy of it—I was completely undone.
I leaned forward, gripping the headboard, placing my breasts within reach of his mouth. He leaned up to take one inside, at the same time thrusting up into me. Pushing deeper.
As I lost myself and a little of my heart, inch by glorious inch.