4. CORA
CORA
We’re one step into Lane’s apartment and his hands are on me. To be fair, they’ve never left. He locks the door, and when his eyes come back to me, my breath hitches in my throat.
“What is it?” I ask, looking down for something amiss. “What’s wrong?”
His thumb tilts my chin, slow and intentional. “Why do you think something is wrong?”
Shrugging my shoulders, the doubt casts enough of a shadow over my confidence for me to break eye contact.
“I, umm... I don’t know?” I hate that it comes out like a question.
Lane’s gaze is pointed and mesmerizing when he answers, “I can promise you, the only thing wrong is that I’m not tasting you right now.”
The blood warms under my cheeks. This might actually happen.
I’ve never had a random hook up with a guy from the bar, but when you have a long-term boyfriend from high school, that typically explains why.
Doesn’t help that I’m the hockey coach’s daughter; it’s like wearing an OFF-LIMITS T-shirt for everyone to see.
I almost tell Lane, but I know if I do, this will be over.
Whatever this is, even if it’s for one night, I want it. I need him to look at me the way he did when he came back and saw me in the bar. I need his mouth on me, every inch of me.
I need to feel like someone wants me. That I'm worthy of this kind of attention.
Part of me knows this isn’t fair. He shouldn’t go into this blind when I have all the information.
“Hey, I need to tell you something but it might change this—” I point between the two of us as he places kisses on the side of my neck.
“Do you want to be here?”
“Yes.”
“Are you safe to be with me tonight? I was recently tested and am safe to be with you.”
“Yes.” I let out a gasp as Lane puts a hand under my top, his touch finding I’m not wearing a bra. His fingers graze my nipple and the sound he lets out makes me realize how badly I want this.
“I’ll listen, but as far as I’m concerned, you’ve told me everything I need to know.” He makes his way up to my ear, placing soft kisses.
Well, that’s that.
Lane’s hand traces me through my jeans and I almost fall into his arms for the second time tonight. Anything I was going to say or come clean about is so far gone. He moves his hands enough to give me a taste of the friction I’m after.
“Roommate?” I look around at the apartment that’s bland and damn near empty.
“No. This is a one bedroom,” he answers before nipping at my ear lobe.
He pulls back and his eyes comb over me, the throbbing in my core getting stronger with each second he looks at me like that.
When he bends his knees to lift my legs around his waist, I groan and fall into him. My mouth meets his as he carries me down the hall like I weigh nothing. Why is that so hot?
Next thing I know, we’re in his bedroom. The walls are gray, bare, and there’s nothing to indicate he lives here besides a practice hockey jersey peeking out from his open closet.
Lane tosses me on the bed and the bedding surprises me. It’s soft and fluffy like a cloud as I run my hands over it. He gets to work on my jeans and he quickly pulls them off, throwing them to the floor.
My hands find my panties—a black, lacy thong—and I watch Lane lick his lips as I touch myself with him watching.
Slowly, I slide my fingers down the front of the fabric, my back arching when I get close to my clit.
I'm never usually this bold, or forward, but having him look at me like I’m something to eat has me borderline losing it.
“My turn,” Lane growls while hooking his fingers at the top of my panties and swiftly yanking them off. I can’t help but let out a small laugh, running my hands over my body before they land in my hair.
Lane takes a finger and slowly pushes it inside me, groaning and rolling his eyes before finding mine. “Wet. So fucking wet,” he groans before putting the same finger in front of my mouth. Without questioning it, I suck myself off him, watching as a wicked grin breaks out across his lips.
“You’re fucking incredible,” he praises before putting a hard kiss on my mouth, brief and telling.
When he kisses down my body, I can’t get enough. I want him to taste me. Devour every inch. With his tongue. His teeth. He pauses in front of my center, lightly blows, and pulls his head back when I buck my hips up, aching for more.
“Don’t rush me. I'm taking in this perfect pussy,” he demands only millimeters from me, my clit feeling the pressure of each word.
He plants a soft kiss right on the spot where I’m practically begging for friction.
I reach for the sheets, bunching them in my hand.
Lane inserts a finger, slowly, and then licks me from where his finger fills my entrance to my clit.
I let out a yelp when he reaches the bundle of nerves, circling with his tongue, and I can feel him smiling as he moves to kiss the inside of my thigh.
Lane adds another finger, slowly pumping in and out while lapping at me. His tongue doesn’t quit while his fingers move inside me, and then they hit the perfect rhythm. My hands immediately go from the sheets to the back of his head, lacing my fingers through his hair.
He groans into me, the vibration inching me closer. “Pull my hair, Lee.”
It’s official: this guy is experienced and it’s fucking hot. So, I do what I’m told. I pull some strands taut once, then again when he moans into me.
“Good girl, following directions.” He moves away from my clit long enough to get the words out.
The praise? It has my hips lifting, hands still in his hair, but pushing his mouth exactly where I need it.
I shift underneath him and I know I’m close.
Then Lane enters a third finger and that’s all it takes for me to come crashing down.
My orgasm sprints through me, each cell, each piece of my body feeling the rush.
A scream rips from my throat with each wave of my climax, and Lane doesn’t stop. I come on his tongue as he licks and pumps with each shudder.
It’s not until my chest heaves with every breath and I let go of his hair that Lane looks at me. He crawls over me, hovering, his chest broad and massive.
"See how good you taste,” he murmurs before kissing me, his mouth open and tongue finding mine. I kiss him back, tasting him. Well, tasting me. The way he makes me want to say yes to anything, to everything; it’s addictive. It’s like there’s not another option.
Lane makes me want to say yes.
I reach my hands into the waistband of his pants, feeling his length through his briefs. When my fingers make contact, he rolls his head, cracking his neck. My hands touch him through the fabric and he whimpers.
I did that.
My hand slides under his briefs and when I brush his bare skin, I’m surprised by something. A piercing. Lane Maxwell has his dick pierced.
I’m counting the barbells when Lane asks, “Still okay with this?”
A flutter of worry tries to force its way into my brain. I’ve never had sex with anyone besides Freddy, and he definitely didn’t have his dick pierced. The nerves try to get me to stop but there is absolutely no fucking way. The rush of the unknown spurs me on.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Take off your shirt,” he demands while standing from the bed and pulling off his own pants.
I do what I'm told. I lay bare on Lane’s bed, my hand finding my clit again, ready for what comes next.
Lane pulls a condom from the bedside table. His cock stands at attention. My mouth salivates at how thick and heavy it is in his hand, the barbells—four of them—straining the latex at the head.
I keep touching myself. “Please.” I sound like I'm begging.
“Don’t worry, Peaches. I'm going to let you have it.” He rolls the condom on his dick slowly—it’s damn near tortuous. “Flip. Get on all fours.”
Peaches. My perfume. This guy doesn’t miss anything.
Again, there’s no question. I move to my belly, push myself up, dig my knees into the mattress and roll my hips back. Lane reaches forward, grabs the front of my thighs, and pulls me back so my feet are hanging off the bed. He remains standing and guides his dick to my entrance.
He feels my wetness, nudging me. I push my hips further back, forward, and then back again. This time, Lane’s cock is waiting and he pushes into me. He fills me, slow and steady.
I swear, I can feel each of his piercings. Maybe he’s torturing me? If so, I’d still say yes to coming back to his apartment.
My hands grip his sheets as his hands rest on the side of my ass. He goes deeper with each slow thrust, moans falling from my lips as I adjust. When he pushes again, filling me to my limit, I gasp and Lane grabs at my hips.
I feel so full. This is unlike anything I’d ever felt with my ex. The pain of stretching around him feels delicious in a way that makes me want more of him.
“A perfect fit,” Lane groans. I can’t help but whimper and tilt my head to the ceiling.
He rocks in and out of me, his hands still gripping at my hips. I arch my back and I can feel him speed up, burying his dick inside.
The only thing I can manage is his name. “Lane–” but it comes out all needy and desperate.
It feels like I could come again, which catches me off guard. That’s not my norm. Well, fuck, Lane isn’t my norm.
Tension builds low in my belly, sparks gathering again.
He must feel it because anything he was holding back is gone. Lane fucks me from behind, his fingers digging into my ass.
“Come for me, pretty girl.” His words are strained but the directive is clear.
I don’t know if it’s him telling me what to do or him calling me pretty girl, but Lane’s voice pushes me over the edge.
My thighs tremble and I cry out with pleasure.
The orgasm is like fireworks in my stomach, even stronger than the first. Waves of pleasure roll over me until I can’t hold my weight anymore.
I fall forward as my arms give out, my ass still in the air as I feel Lane spill into the condom.
Everything blurs and fades; the only thing I can focus on is Lane’s moan. A few breaths later, he pulls out and I roll to my back.
A wicked smirk tugs at a corner of his mouth as he reaches down to kiss me.
And in this moment, it’s good to be Lee.