Chapter Thirty-Three
Taylor
We fall through the door, tearing at each other’s clothes.
“Shh, Emma,” I say when we almost collide with the console table.
“Come here.”
He picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, and carries me to his bedroom. My stomach drops when he tosses me on the bed. Being a five-foot-ten baseball player, I’ve never felt dainty, but Todd has a way of making it happen.
He reaches for my waistband as soon as I’m in the middle of the bed.
“You were serious,” I say, my brow arching.
“Dead serious, sweetheart.”
His lips are on my mound a second later, and I clench the sheets. It’s not long before he’s worked me into a frenzy, flicking my clit and pumping two fingers in me.
“God, Todd . . . please . . .”
“Please what?”
“Please just fuck me.”
“You have to come this way first,” he says, looking up at me. “Come on, be a good girl.”
“Todd!” My back arches as he strokes my inner wall. “You did not just call me a good girl.”
“I didn’t—not yet at least.”
I lose my capacity to speak when he suckles my clit, only able to release a long, low groan as I come.
He releases me and reaches for his belt. “That’s my girl.”
I snort as stars continue bursting behind my eyes, and then the next thing I know, he’s flipping me onto my stomach.
“God, you feel so good,” he says as he slides into me.
“Right back atcha.”
He moans as he nails me to the bed, and for the first time since we started whatever this is, it feels like he isn’t holding back—he’s taking me how he wants.
It’s not that I haven’t appreciated all the effort he’s put into making our time together pleasurable—I just find this side of him extremely sexy.
Not to mention him letting go, allows me to let go as well. I feel the slight sting of his nails digging into my hips, and the slide of his cock against my inner walls is more intense.
My head sinks into the bed, unable to hold myself up any longer, so Todd does instead. He pulls me up until my back is against his chest, his fingers lightly wrapped around my neck. I shudder against him as his other hand reaches for my clit, and shockwaves shoot through my core.
“Holy hell,” I say as my body goes rigid, and I realize I’m having an orgasm with him inside me.
“Fuck . . .” he moans as I pull him over the edge with me, and then we collapse into a heap on the bed.
“That was . . .” I stop, unable to think of an adjective to describe what just happened.
“You came, didn’t you?” he asks, his eyes finding mine in the darkened room.
I nod, still trying to catch my breath. “I don’t know what got into you tonight, but it’s hot as hell.”
“Yeah?” He rests his chin on my hip. “You don’t mind that I kissed you in front of everyone?”
“No—I mean it might make things more complicated but I still liked it.”
He folds his lips into his mouth, averting his gaze, and I get the impression that wasn’t the response he wanted. But what else am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to ignore the fact that a public display of our situationship could hurt our chances of entering into a real relationship?
I wait for him to say something else—to explain his reaction—but he doesn’t, so a heaviness settles in the room while we slowly drift off to sleep.