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Charming as Puck by Pippa Grant (38)

Thirty-Eight

Nick

My dick hurts so bad from holding out that I think I pulled something vital, but this isn’t about me.

It’s about Kami.

I snag her hand before she touches my cock, which would be pretty much all it would take for me to blow my load, and I pull it to my mouth to suck on her fingers, which makes her breath catch and her eyes drift closed. She’s so fucking sexy, so fucking responsive to everything.

I could probably seduce her by wiggling my brows at her elbow.

Her free hand is gripping my bicep, her short nails digging into my skin while she pants and lifts her breasts under the jersey, and I could stay here all day.

All night.

Kissing her. Stroking her. Making her gasp for breath and lose control.

Loving her.

“More, Nick,” she pleads, her knees falling open. “Want you—so bad.”

I thread our fingers together and have her help me push up the jersey until I’m sucking on her nipples, making her gasps come faster and her hand grip mine tighter. She’s pumping her hips against me, and I fumble for my wallet and the condom inside before I lose my head.

Both of them.

“Let me,” Kami says, still breathing hard, her eyes so dark that it’s like she’s hiding the night sky behind her lowered lids.

She takes the condom, and as she rolls it down my length, I have to think about my grandmother naked to keep from losing it.

“I love touching you,” she whispers as she cups my balls, and I can’t hold back any longer.

“Kami,” I gasp in warning, but she knows.

She’s Kami.

She always knows.

She spreads her legs wider and grabs my ass, guiding me to her sweet pussy, and I shudder with relief as her body takes me.

“Missed you so much.” I bury myself deep and then stop, dropping my face to her shoulder, because fuck, she’s so tight, so hot, two strokes is all it’s going to take, and I’m going to make her scream my name before I come, I swear I will.

I want to deserve her.

“Nick,” she whispers, her hips tilting into me. “More.”

I lift my head, watching her while I pull out, grit my teeth, and drive back into her. Her lips are parted, lids lowered, her jersey bunched between us, and she’s holding my gaze while I rock into her again.

And again.

I’m so fucking hard I could pound steel, and every brush of her fingertips on my ass, on my back, over my shoulders, sends that deep throbbing in my nuts deeper, more insistent, warning me I physically cannot hold myself back much longer.

I roll us so she’s on top, straddling me, her breasts bouncing as she rides me, squeezing me. I capture her in my palms and thumb her nipples, making her head arch back. “Oh, god, yes,” she moans, slamming her body down harder and faster while I pinch and pull and tease, my dick getting heavier and thicker and aching so fucking bad that I—just—can’t—

She leans forward, grabs my face, and kisses me, and her pussy suddenly clenches around me so tight that I come with a blinding flash of light behind my eyes. She grinds down hard against me, holding there, her inner walls matching me spasm for spasm as she cries my name in my mouth and comes all over my pulsing cock.

My shoulders are off the bed, my tongue clashing with hers, our bodies synced in wave after wave of release. All my nerve endings are firing, my dick still chasing release even while I’m coming inside her. A shudder passes through her, and she slides out of the kiss and slumps over me, chest heaving, while my cock continues twitching inside her.

“Holy hell,” she gasps.

I wrap my arms around her and hold on tight, because holy hell doesn’t begin to touch it.

She’s—that—it—fuck.

I have to marry her.

Because I have to have Kami in my life every single fucking day. Her smile. Her laugh. Her sneaky wit. Her dogs. Our cow. Her in nothing but my jersey.

Her coming for me.

Offering me her pussy.

Stroking my cock.

Kissing me.

Rubbing my neck after a tough game.

Letting me rub her feet after a long day.

I want to bake her brownies, and I’ve never baked a fucking thing in my life past a frozen pizza.

I want to feed her ice cream in bed and torment her by suggesting we call our boys Willoughby and Fitzgerald, just to see her nose wrinkle, and our girls Fairybelle and Kami Junior, spelled with a Q to keep them straight.

I snort softly at my own private joke, and she stirs on top of me, squeezing my dick, still inside her, which lights up my nerve endings again like a Halloween tree made of fireworks.

And now I’m apparently hallucinating, which makes me snort again.

“Do I want to know?” Kami asks sleepily.

Yeah, I’m right there with her. Drifting off into a happy sleep that I haven’t had in a month. “Love you,” I mumble.

I think.

Everything’s hazy now, and she’s so warm and perfect, and I’m never, ever letting her go.

Not even while I sleep.