I don’t even know what’s happening. Well, I know. I’m kissing her. Or she’s kissing me. She definitely started it.
It’s like an explosion. Like an entire warehouse of firecrackers igniting at the same time. I groan into her mouth and wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against me.
Our tongues tangle, and her other hand grips my biceps, sliding up and over my shoulder. She knocks my hat off my head, and it drops to the floor behind me. And then both of her hands are in my hair, sliding through the damp strands, gripping at the crown, angling my head farther to the side. Deepening the kiss.
Dragging it out.
Our tongues battle and then soften, find a rhythm that’s slightly less frantic. She sighs and moans, hips starting to roll, like she’s dancing to a song only she can hear.
In a moment of clarity, I feel around behind me and flick the lock on the door. She startles and bites my tongue. With our mouths still connected, she walks me backward across the room, toward her bed.
I feel the mattress against my calves.
She pushes on my chest, breaking the kiss. She’s not physically strong enough to knock me over. Maybe with a roundhouse kick or a knee to the balls, she could bring me to my knees. But I fall back on the bed, propping myself up on my elbows, legs spread wide, erection making itself known against the fly of my jeans.
Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, and her eyes roam over me on a hungry sweep.
“What’re we doing here, Teagan?” I don’t know why I ask. It’s pretty fucking obvious what the plan is. And my body is totally on board. Normally I wouldn’t even think twice about it. Not when a woman I find attractive is very clearly showing me what she wants.
But Teagan is nothing like the women I typically end up in bed with.
“Whatever we want.” She pulls her tank over her head and tosses it on the floor. And then she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and tugs them down her long, toned thighs, leaving her in nothing but a pink satin bra and matching panties. Clearly it’s her favorite color.
She reaches behind her and flicks open the clasp of her bra. The straps slide down her arms, freeing her breasts. They’re high and full, perfect handfuls. She takes two steps toward me, until she’s standing between my spread knees.
I let my eyes drop, taking in all that bare skin. The dip in her waist, the curve of her hips, soft in all the right places. She’s fucking perfect. I lift my gaze back to hers. “You seem pretty clear on what you want.”
She hooks her thumbs into her panties and pushes them over her hips. They slide down her legs, and she steps out of them. I sit up and drag my fingertips from the outside of her knee all the way to her hip. Gripping gently, I lean in and circle her navel with my nose, pressing my lips against her soft, warm skin.
She hums and runs her hands through my hair, nails scraping gently across my scalp, sending another hot shiver down my spine, making goose bumps rise along my skin. Before I can go any lower, she tugs on my hair, pulling my head back as she climbs onto the bed and straddles my lap.
“Don’t you—”
She settles a palm on my chest and brushes her lips over mine, cutting off my question. “Sometimes it’s better not to think too much. Sometimes all we need to do is feel.”
That’s a loaded statement. One I’d like to learn more about, later. When we’re not about to have sex.
Her hands slide down my chest until she finds my belt buckle. She undoes the clasp, pops the button, and drags the zipper down. She sucks my bottom lip between hers while her hand dips into the waistband of my boxer briefs. She sighs and I groan as her fingers explore. Freeing me from the fabric, she wraps her fingers around me.
I work with my hands all day long. They’re calloused from manual labor, and it doesn’t matter how often I moisturize and use a pumice stone; half the time it feels like they’re made of sandpaper. So Teagan’s hand is damn well bliss.
My hips lift on their own, seeking her touch, and I make a sound that’s somewhere between a growl and a grunt. She smiles against my lips and slides forward, her chest coming flush with mine.
At first all I can focus on is how good it all feels. And I almost lose my damn mind when she rises up and skims her sex with my erection.
But then I realize that her plan is to jump right on in, no foreplay, no lead-up. Just get naked and get right to it. Which defeats the entire purpose of sex, as far as I’m concerned.
I grab her around the waist and flip her over. She shrieks and clutches my shoulders. I quickly tuck myself back into my boxer briefs, because too much stimulation is going to make this end a lot more quickly than I’d like. At the same time, I adjust my position so one of my knees is between hers and the other is pressed up against the outside of her left thigh. That way she can’t rub all that softness and warmth on me and threaten to scramble my brain again.
“What’re you doing?” Her bottom lip juts out, all pouty and inviting.
I dip down and suck it between mine, biting lightly before I pull back. “What’re you doing?”
“Well, I was about to ride you like my personal roller coaster, but now I’m not.”
If she had room to cross her arms, I bet she would.
I grin and brush my nose against hers. “Why you trying to rush through all the good stuff?”
She wiggles a hand between our bodies and cups me. “This is the good stuff.”
I give my head a slow shake. “That’s the endgame. The fourth quarter. We’re not even close to halftime yet.”
“Are you comparing sex to football?”
I ignore the question since it seems rhetorical, based on her smirk. “I’m just getting started here, Teagan, so don’t rush me.” I drop my head and take her mouth again, slowing things right down.
Every time my lips leave hers to explore more of her skin, she grips my hair and tries to strong-arm me back up to her mouth. She also keeps trying to free her leg from between mine, but I drop my hips, making it impossible.
As it is, she can only wrap one leg around my waist. I keep up with the slow exploration, devoting attention to her pert nipples, before revisiting her mouth. When I start to make the trip south to the promised land, she grips my hair and yanks my head up, eyes wide with panic. “What’re you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I run my hand down her side and over her hip, trying to unhook her leg. Her heel is pressing into the center of my back, right on top of a knotted muscle.
“You can’t go down on me.” She looks horrified by the prospect.
That gives me pause. “You don’t like oral?” The only reason I can see that being a possibility is if her previous partners didn’t know what they were doing.