Chapter 10 #2
I need to feel his skin without all these clothes.
My hands sneak up under his sweater. His skin is hot and smooth, satin over ridges of hard-won muscle.
He groans. “Say you came back for me. For us.”
My heart kicks.
None of it makes sense. He’s the one who broke things off.
But it’s impossible to think when he’s pumping in and out, long strokes that push me to the limit. My body welcomes him as though he never left, as though every day was a tick mark on a cell wall while I waited for him to return and set me free.
He rubs the sweet spot inside that makes me convulse.
“Wait,” I say.
Clay pulls back an inch, our breath still mingling in pants.
“You told me the next time you made me come, it wouldn’t be on your fingers.”
His eyes gleam.
He spins me around and bends me over, forcing me to grab the post for balance as he spreads me wide.
His lips brush down my back, my thighs.
Oh God.
I want this. I’ve wanted him for so long.
He licks a strip from the top of my pussy all the way back.
It’s so good it hurts. I’m in physical pain from how tight I’m strung, my core begging for a release I know deep down only he can give me.
“Beautiful girl. Bet you’re aching for me to fill you up right now.”
I want to touch him, but in this position, I can’t reach.
His muscled arms wrap around the tops of my thighs and hold me in place.
Clay teases me with his tongue, slicking across my skin and diving inside.
He spreads me wider, exposing every inch of me to his attention.
“The things I’ve imagined doing when I had you like this,” he murmurs.
The past month, I’ve tried not to think of him when I’m alone in bed touching myself.
But it’s always him.
It’s impossible to imagine someone else when I’ve been with him.
Still, he doesn’t fill me with anything except his tongue, and even that strays inside for only a second before returning to my clit and my folds.
It’s maddening.
My moan spills out, the sounds of my pleasure echoing off the walls.
My fingers flex on the post, my toes curling in my shoes.
It’s as if his only mission in life right now is to make me feel him, to want him. Only him. Always him.
I never thought I’d be getting tongue-fucked by an all-star against a shelf in the back of a pub. But then, I’ve grown a lot this fall.
I arch my back, inviting him.
My fingers let go of the post and I reach back to grab his shoulder, twisting to try and look at him.
“You’re so sweet on my tongue,” he groans. “You’d be even sweeter on my cock.”
His expression is feral, the tattoos on his forearms like devils coming out to play as he grips me.
The pleasure builds until I'm out of my mind with need. My vision blurs.
He sucks me one more time, punishingly long and deep on a low groan that fills the room.
Ecstasy explodes through my body, each nerve firing off sparks of pure bliss that threaten to consume me completely.
His arms wrap around me, pulling me close in a desperate embrace from behind.
We don’t speak, just hold each other.
I’m wrecked, but in some ways, this feels inevitable.
“Turn around.” He murmurs it as my heart rate comes back down.
I do. My pants are still around my ankles, my face flushed.
I’m shaking from the orgasm, but the air still crackles between us.
He looks at me with an intensity that takes my breath away.
We’re not done, I realize as he reaches into his pants and pulls out his cock.
And wow.
He’s huge and thick, and I never thought a dick could be beautiful, but I was wrong.
“Quit trying to distract me with compliments,” he growls.
“I didn’t say a word.”
“You did with your eyes.”
“It wasn’t a compliment. I’m just surprised you’re not tattooed there.”
He half laughs, half coughs. “I’m not that stupid.”
My lips twitch too, until he drops his other hand between my thighs and draws a gasp from me.
His touch is there only long enough to coat his fingers with my wetness.
Then he grips his cock.
My throat dries.
Clay’s hand drags down, his length throbbing against his merciless grip.
Holy.
Again.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
Again.
“Don’t move,” he rasps.
I couldn’t if the room was on fire.
A few hard strokes and he’s grunting in time with his motions.
It’s the same way he moves on the court, only sexier. He’s private and ruthless, chasing his own pleasure inches from where he made me come harder than I ever have moments ago.
His dark eyes capture mine, and I can’t breathe. I feel the battle raging inside him.
“Nova…”
His jaw works, and I breathe along with him. I reach up, my fingers stroking the side of his face.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper.
He comes on a groan, coating my thighs and stomach.
It’s beyond sexy, watching this man who’s sacrificed everything his entire life for a single purpose lose control with me. On me.
Clay straightens his clothes, then turns to mine. He’s careful with me, tugging up my thong, my jeans.
He doesn’t clean me up first. The fabric sticks to my skin like a filthy secret.
He pulls me close, pressing his lips against my forehead.
“Whoever he is, I’ll always look better on you than he does.”