Vince Tanev was on his fucking knees for me.
There was no thought more erotic than that one.
Just when I thought I’d combust from him kissing and licking and nipping at all the skin around where I really wanted him, he wrapped his arms up and under my thighs, holding the weight of me before burying his face.
His tongue covered me, hot and wet and with the perfect pressure to make me tremble beneath the touch.
“Oh, fuck,” I cried, trying to sit my ass back on the bench so I could spread wider for him. But he kept me up, kept me shaking and holding on for dear life as he worked. My heart was pounding, the reality of the moment stealing my breath. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was a bad idea, that I wasn’t being professional, that this would all blow up in my face.
I couldn’t find it in me to stop. I never wanted him to stop.
“Jesus, Maven,” he breathed against me, swirling his tongue over my clit before sucking it between his teeth. I bucked my hips, and he did it again, and again, finding the rhythm to drive me toward an orgasm. “So fucking sweet. So fucking you.”
“God.” In a feat of strength, I held onto the bar with one hand, and the other jutted out for his hair, guiding him where I wanted him.
And then all contact was lost.
My ass dropped to the bench, and Vince grabbed my hand, guiding it back to the bar.
“I said hold tight,” he reminded me, and then he kissed me hard, his mouth wet with my pleasure before he crawled down my body again. And he moved even slower this time, taking the opportunity to forcefully tug at the top of my dress until my modest breasts spilled over the top of it.
He licked his lips, my taste there, like he was savoring every sip of me as he palmed my swells and rolled his thumbs over my nipples.
“I knew you had pretty tits even before I felt you that night in the hot tub,” he said, shaking his head in awe as he took in the sight of me. And what a sight it had to be — my dress shoved up over my hips, pussy wet and spread open, breasts spilling out, hair mussed, lipstick smudged. “But fuck, my imagination was so far off. These,” he said, squeezing me before he leaned down to circle one of my nipples with his tongue. “Are perfect.”
“Vince,” I breathed.
“Mm? Is there something you need, pet?”
I glared at him, but before I could press my toes into his chest and kick him away, he snatched my ankle, spreading me wide.
“You need only say it,” he teased, a challenge in his eyes as he held me like that.
I was tempted to kick out of his grasp, but instead, I leaned up a bit, enough to stare down at him when I said, “Eat. Me.”
He grinned. “With pleasure.”
He didn’t delay this time. He enveloped me — wrapping my thighs in his arms again, balancing me in the air as my grip tightened on the bar. His mouth was ravenous, his tongue that of an expert, sliding up and down and in me. He used the tip of it to flick my clit in a quick, merciless motion, holding me to him when I tried to back out.
“Ohhhh fuuucckkk,” I cried, my legs trembling so hard it hurt. It was like having a full body spasm, but I pushed and stretched and opened, reaching, holding tight.
And then I let go.
It struck me only then that we were in a public place, when my cries rang out in that gym and echoed off the walls. I hoped the people who were still in the building weren’t on the third floor, and I really hoped there weren’t cameras in this gym.
Those thoughts lingered only a second, though, because the orgasm was so powerful, it eradicated everything else from my brain. I was lost in that moment, that climax, the waves after waves of pleasure that rolled through me and made my toes curl — all courtesy of Tampa’s hotshot rookie.
When I was spent, I let out a short burst of a breath, collapsing onto the bench. My hands were red and raw when I released them from the bar, my legs still quivering.
Vince smiled against my pussy, kissing it lightly before crawling up to kiss my mouth.
“Cameras,” I breathed.
“I already took care of it.”
I blinked. “How?”
He nodded toward the top right-hand corner of the room. To my horror, there was a camera, but his t-shirt was thrown over it, blocking the lens.
“I didn’t want to get reamed by coach for working out the night before a game,” he explained.
“Audio?”
“None,” he promised. He captured my mouth again with a long, slow kiss. “No one gets my girl like this. No one but me.”
Those words unraveled me, sending any paranoia I had skittering away. I tried not to overanalyze, not to latch onto the way his lips curved when he said my girl. I knew as well as he did that this was just one night. It was giving in to the fire between us that refused not to burn. It was fighting and fucking because that’s what we were meant to do, from the moment we met.
All thoughts were wiped clean when he grabbed my wrists and pulled me to stand, his eyes skating over every inch of my skin.
“You should see yourself right now,” he said, biting his lip.
And then, like a lightbulb went off, a little smile curled on his lips, his eyes wide.
He tugged me away from the bench, stealing another kiss, and then he grabbed my hips and spun me around.
Until I was looking at myself, at us, in the mirror.
Look At You
Vince
This is it.
That was all I could think as I stood behind Maven in that gym, the light from above painting her in a masterpiece of shadows, me holding her hips and watching her eyes widen at the sight of herself, at what I’d done to her.
This was it for me.
This was the peak of my life — this view, this girl, this fucking dress.
“Look at you,” I said, leaning down so those words could caress the skin at the back of her neck. I grabbed her wrists, holding them up to spread her wingspan, and then I trailed my fingertips along her arms.
One of my hands dove down, palming her breast where it swelled over her dress. My other hand rose up, gliding along her collarbone before I wrapped it gently around her throat.
Her lips parted, head falling back a bit as if to offer me better access. So I grabbed her jaw next, tilting her even farther back, until her head was against my chest and those pretty doe eyes were looking up at me.
My bottom hand slid lower, over her velvet dress, down to where she was dripping from between her legs.
“You’re going to watch while I fuck you for the first time,” I said, kissing her hair.
“You say that like there will be a second.”
She quipped it so fast it shocked me, and for a moment I just stared down at her. Then, I blinked on a laugh that ripped from my throat.
“Baby, believe me when I say there will be a second,” I said, rubbing my palm over her clit. She shook in my arms as I did, and then I lifted my hand just a little, enough to slap her pussy with enough bite to make her moan. “And a third, and a fourth, and so on, and so forth until this pussy molds to my exact shape, it’s so sure it belongs only to me.”
Maven moaned, and then I grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her back, her dainty wrists caught in my grip. I held her there with one hand as the other struggled with my shorts, edging them down one side at a time until they were at my ankles along with my briefs.
And that’s when it hit me.