Out of Love

Oh. Well, then. “Good point.” I reach up to grasp his strong hand; he pulls me to my feet with a smirk. Ignoring him, I mutter to myself under my breath as I hurriedly wipe down and roll up my mat. “I swear, it’s like you sprinkled crack on your freaking penis. Makes me crazy.”

As soon as my mat is ready, he nods to the exit, a smug look on his face. “Ready to get your crack fix, Davis?”

I don’t even want to admit how fast I manage to exit the gym. All because of Foster Kavanaugh and his freaking magical cock.





Chapter Forty-Seven


Foster



Noelle feels so good, so snug, her pussy so slick around my cock. I didn’t even make it to the shower with her, had to have her as soon as we got inside her place and locked the door. I’ll probably feel bad about it later, but right now, I can’t feel bad about anything that feels this good.

Pushing into her, the way I have her lifted—propped—against the wall, my piercing is hitting her just right. The way her pussy tightens around me like a vise, making my balls ache, I feel the telltale tingling begin, telling me I’m close.

“Foster,” she gasps, her head thrown back against the door, eyes closed, those lips I can’t get enough of are parted. Moving a hand between us, my thumb goes to her clit, applying just enough pressure and circling. It doesn’t take but a moment before I hear her let out a harsh gasp before her body starts contracting, pulsing around my cock.

“Fuck.” My hands fly to grip her hips as I move in frantic, forceful thrusts through her release just as I reach my own. Coming with a low grunt, I give one final thrust and feel shivers run down my spine at the intensity of my orgasm.

My palms braced against the door with my body against hers, I realize, for the first time, I feel weak in the knees. That’s never happened before with any woman. Ever. Before I can give it a thought, she tips her head to look at me with a sated expression, and I feel a sense of pride run through me at the fact that I put that look on her face. With an internal laugh, I know if I voiced this, she’d call me a Neanderthal.

What’s even stranger is the fact that we’ve been doing this—whatever this is—for a while now and I haven’t had the least desire to end it. It’s like I can’t get enough of her and that’s scary as hell.

“Hey,” her voice is soft, gentle, her palm coming to rest along the side of my face. “You okay?”

Avoiding her gaze, I give a curt nod. “Yeah. Just feel like an ass about not letting you shower first.” Slowly untangling us, I set her back down on her feet. We both tug our pants back on.

“Oh. Sorry about that.” My eyes jerk up to find her looking at me apologetically. “I’m sure I smell awful.” Before she can step past me on her way down the hall, I snag her wrist, tugging her back to me, waiting for her eyes to meet mine again.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” I press a kiss to her knuckles. “I’m the one who had to have you against the door, after all.”

Her eyes dart away briefly, a flush rising on her cheeks. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”

I stand there, watching her in those little black yoga pants, the way her ass looks in them already making me hard all over again. Making me want to slide deep inside of her once again, to feel her inner walls contract around me and—

Oh, fuck. It hits me—what we just did.

“Noelle.” She stops dead in her tracks at my tone, cautiously, turning at the end of the hallway. Probably because I sound frantic as shit.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t—I fucked up and didn’t use a condom.” Running a hand over my face, I shake my head. “I’m clean, I promise. I’ve never not used one before. But I don’t want you to think I don’t respect you, that I did this—”

“Foster.” Her look is understanding, her voice calm, yet hushed. “I get it. And I’m on the pill and clean. It’s okay, but …” she pauses and glances away briefly before finishing, “we definitely don’t need to have a repeat of that ever again.”

At her words, I’m momentarily blinded by panic. “You don’t want a repeat of that? Like ever?” Shit. This is it? I really thought I’d end up having more time with her.

Staring at me for a beat, she speaks slowly. “I don’t want a repeat of the no-condom thing, Foster.” Spinning around, she calls out over her shoulder, “I’m going to jump in the shower. If you hurry up and join me, I’ll do that fun thing you like with my tongue,” singsonging the final word.

My breath whooshes out in relief. That was fucking close. I really thought I was going to have to put on a brave face and act like I was cool with things ending.

Wait, what the hell is wrong with me?

R.C. Boldt's books