We’re breathing heavily as she moves away and leans against the wall. “That was incredible,” she whispers. “I’m still vibrating.”
“Come here,” I say.
Sitting up, I put my back against the wall. She climbs in my lap, facing me, and I put my hand on her nape.
“Kiss me.”
She grabs my face and takes my lips hungrily, urgently, her teeth nipping at my bottom lip. She slips her hands around my neck, and we turn ravenous as I make a meal of her mouth, twisting and fluttering with her tongue, tasting her teeth, the sides of her mouth, the roof. I want to inhale her until we’re one. I trace the outline of her lips, then bite her top lip and suck it into my mouth. We’re dirty and rough, licking and biting at each other. I drag my mouth to her jawline, to her throat, an invader, hungry to own every part of her. I roam to her ear. “Fuck me.”
She leans back, her hands on the floor for balance as she rubs her wetness on me, tracing over my cock. Small motions, soft, then faster. She’s completely exposed to me, mouth parted, desire on her face. My hand goes between us and thrums her clit. I feel a bead of come oozing from me, and I dig my fingers into her legs and lift her and mount her on my crown. Holding her tight, I push in, then out, barely inside her.
“More,” she begs and sinks farther down.
A blaze of fire washes over me, and my heart pounds so hard I’m sure she can hear it as I slide all the way home and grind against her. Our fit is exquisite as I stay where I am, relishing the tightness.
“I want you desperately,” I whisper in her ear.
When I move, it’s with no holds barred. My mouth meshes with hers as my hands clasp her lower back, and we fuck. I thrust inside her, deep and hard, the pleasure vibrating over every inch of my skin. Our breaths are loud, gasping, as I pump in and out. She tightens her muscles around me, and I groan.
“Do that again.”
She rotates her hips and tightens her pussy as I tilt her face up and kiss her. Again and again.
This is what I’ve wanted. That primal part of me that recognizes its prey. Her.
“I want to fuck you every which way I can,” I growl.
She kisses down my neck, then bites me. “How?”
“Against the wall. I’ll stand.”
I slip out of her, my dick swollen and red, aching. We stand up, and I pick her up as her legs lock around my hips. I flip her around to the wall, then push inside her. She groans as I delve deep in her channel, angling my hips to rub against her upper wall. A bead of sweat drips down her face, and my tongue takes it. My head lowers to her neck as I breathe in her scent. Shivers dance down my spine as she tugs my hair, pulling my lips back to hers.
She slips a hand between us, her fingers moving.
“You’re mine,” she breathes into my mouth as she orgasms, and the fact that she says such a possessive thing is so hot it sends me over the cliff. My cock expands inside her, then jerks, my body shuddering as I wring it out, diving into her depths, not wanting it to be over. Juices drip down our legs as electric pulses skate over me. My arms quake, and I ease her to the floor and lie down with her over my chest. My heart pounds erratically as I try to slow my breathing.
We don’t speak for several minutes, our bodies tangled together.
She props her head up and gives me a wry look, one that makes me smile.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m sticky, and this floor has got to be killing your back.”
“I’m fine.” I ease up and reach over, grab some unopened paper towels, and tear off a few. I slide down to her waist and clean her gently, then toss them in the trash by the door.
The floor is uncomfortable, yet we lie side by side and look at each other. She has a glow on her face, a satisfied look in her eyes, one that I put there, but something else takes front and center. I want to enjoy this moment, but . . .
“I didn’t wear a condom,” I say, grimacing.
She chews on her lip. “I know. I’m, um, on the pill . . .”
I exhale. “I haven’t had sex without a condom in years.”
“Oh. Okay, so you’re good?”
“If you mean if I’ve had an STD test, I have. Have you?” I ask.
“After Zane, yes.”
My mood darkens. I hate that bastard, and it has shit to do with football.
And why is that? the logical side of my brain asks.
A slow panic builds in my chest like a heavy boulder, growing bigger and bigger. Sure, part of it is about the lack of a condom, but the other side . . .
My head races with thoughts as I lay out the facts: I’m insanely jealous of Andrew, of any man who’s had her attention, and I look forward to our games in the teacher lounge. Hell, I rush from class to get there first just so I can watch her walk in. Honest? If it took lice to have her in my house, dancing and singing, then I’d do it all over again. It’s not even about the sex, which is intoxicating; it’s the emotional, needy side of me that’s humming for more.