CHAPTER TEN
INDY
I’m so nervous it’s insane. It’s my first time all over again… less the McDonalds and leather upholstery.
Cayden picks me up, slamming me against the wall. My eyes lock on his, wide, before his lips come down on my own, and damn it, I’m kissing him.
I let go, kissing him back with as much urgency as his tongue slips past my lips. I moan against his mouth. He devours me back with a kiss that demands everything of me.
His fingers find my hair, raking through it as his free hand slides down to my ass to pull me closer to his hardness between us.
He leans back, his hungry, glacial eyes boring through me. “In-fucking-credible.”
I pull in a quick breath before his lips are on me again. I hold his shoulders, feel the muscle coiled below firm and solid, and there’s heat. His skin’s so hot I’m surprised we’re not self-combusting.
He grips my hair tighter, pulls me into him closer, desperate for more. He lifts me with one hand, my feet leaving the floor, my ankles hooked against his ass.
I break away enough to moan, panting against the side of his face while he cradles my ass.
He walks, holding me aloft, shadow and light passing until I realize we’re in his room.
My breath catches when he drops me onto the bed.
My eyes lock on it, the giant, throbbing totem of it—the pride of Abbotsleigh.
I gasp as he takes hold of my ankles, dragging me down to the end of the bed.
He starts to kneel. “I’m going to make you come now. Do you have a problem with that?”
It seems I’ve lost the capacity for speech, so I simply shake my head from side to side.
His head vanishes between my thighs, my hands reaching out to pull at the sheets in anticipation.
His lips fasten themselves to my clit.
Oh. My. God.
My eyes literally roll back in my head, his tongue flicking and rolling. He sucks and nips, a complete master.
I’m moaning loud, but I don’t care. My core tightens and he pushes me onto a new plane of pleasure with his mouth. It’s so different to anything I’ve felt before. One of my hands reaches out for his head, unable to decide if it should push him away or pull him closer.
Tighter and tighter, I become a coil in wait. I pant, stop, pant, stop as his tongue works until I cannot take a single second more.
My climax hits hard, a swelling surge of euphoria. It smashes through my body, causing it to jerk and lift from the bed, a nonsense string of syllables leaving my mouth as his lips close around my pulsing clit.
I writhe, levitating from the bed, coming over and over, until he breaks away and I can finally collapse, spent.
He climbs over my body, sliding over me and reaching for the drawers beside the bed. I hear foil being torn, a momentary pause as he sheathes himself, but still he watches me, unable to take his eyes off my own.
I draw my legs up the side of his body, my knees bent and ankles locked at the small of his back. I’m completely open for him. He shudders, gripping his cock and placing himself against the slick opening of my sex.
In this moment, burning up from the inside out, I’ve never felt so sexy.
Goosebumps pebble my skin. I’m sweating. There are noises coming from outside as people make their way back from the stadium, the win, but his only focus is on me, on my waiting body.
His hips rock forward. My breath catches, caught in my throat.
Slowly, he presses inside.
I whimper, trying to lift my hips to take him deeper, feel him filling me, but he takes his time. I’m under his control, pinned below him, at his mercy.
His hand runs up my arm, our fingers interlocking as he holds my gaze, lips parted.
He draws it out, slowly rocking back and forth until I’m going completely crazy, begging him to take me, to fuck me, the word foreign coming from my mouth but empowering all the same.
He lifts up, a sliver of space between our bodies, before he loses it.
He drives in hard, filling me from the initial thrust, hammering into me and hitting every hot, slick spot inside me. A knot starts to tighten in my stomach, the familiar tug of impending orgasm overtaking my senses.
Not again.
He keeps up the pace, pumping and pounding, never letting up, his balls clapping against my ass as he fucks me. And I’m shouting with enthusiasm, lost in it, pleading for him to let me come before I pass out, pinned below him.
He grunts, his own climax calling.
It’s my undoing.
I come, twice as powerfully as the first time, exploding internally, my pussy convulsing around his thick cock, my voice guttural as I let everything out, jerking mindlessly against him.
He stiffens, his head falling onto the patchwork of scars against my shoulder. He moans in release, jerking there, his cock convulsing inside me.
I lay there, blissfully crushed, until his head rises. His breathing remains heavy, his manhood continuing to pulse. He smiles, cheeks flushed, watching me. “And you say you’re not into sport.”
“Sport?” I protest. “That was not sport. That was…” I hunt for the word. “Spiritual.”
He lifts off me, standing to pull off the condom. I sit up, tender between my legs, loving the way his ass flexes as he walks, his still-hard cock bobbing against his chest.
He turns, catching my gaze. “Nice, isn’t it?”
I pick up his jeans, tossing them at him. “Asshole,” I smile.
He smiles, disappearing into the bathroom.
I collapse onto the bed and spread my legs.
Give that thing some air, girl. Damn.