It was like I’d just told him he was going to the Rose Bowl. He pulled out of me, rolled onto his side, and we floundered around on my tiny mattress until he was on his back. I threw my leg over his hips, climbing on.
This was better in so many ways. Seeing him beneath me in my bed, his head on my pillow as he stared up at me, tugged at my heart. I shouldn’t like it, but I loved having him here. I lowered, taking him inside me once more, and blew out a long breath.
I planted my palms flat on his chest and swiveled my hips. His eyes hazed. “Shit, do that again.”
I followed his command, and he seized my breasts, filling the weight of them in his hands. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, and the sensation was a lick of heat. I gasped when he moved, encouraging me to help set the tempo. I thought I would be in control when on top, but I should have known better. Jay wasn’t going to sit on the sidelines.
His palms inched down my ribcage as I lifted and slid back down, impaling myself on his firm dick. The sensation was delicious, and my body craved more. I went faster, slamming down on him, forcing a grunt from his throat. His wide, calloused hands continued their descent. Past my waist, until he could grip my hips and urge me faster.
“That’s right,” he said. “Fucking ride me.”
His dirty words lit me up. They flashed a different kind of pleasure which fed into everything else, sending me climbing. I panted as our bodies slapped together. The sound was sharp and furious. Beneath me, his expression twisted with raw need, and he pistoned his body, fucking me just as much as I was him.
The violent crash of us was going to send my head into the ceiling, and I threw my hands up, bracing myself. My breasts bounced with the impact of each thrust, but neither of us slowed. His muscles strained, pushing and pulling me to keep up with the breakneck rhythm he demanded, and gasps poured from his open mouth.
“Oh, shit,” he groaned. “Oh, fuck.”
He seemed to try to pull himself back from the edge, but it was too late. I was yanked down on top of him, flattening my breasts to his chest as he came. It was shocking listening to him lose control, and I grinned against his skin. Every shudder he made and every pulse of him, I was the cause. I’d let this gridiron warrior conquer me, but I’d done it right back to him.
I rode the rise and fall of his heaving chest as he came back together and his thundering heart began to calm. Jay scrubbed a hand over his face, his palm bristling on his stubble. “Jesus. That was,” he let out a final breath to even himself, “amazing.”
Before I could respond, he wrapped his arms around me and flipped us over so my back was against the mattress. He dropped a hurried kiss on my mouth, and began to scoot down.
I lifted my head, puzzled. “What are you doing?”
He looked devious. Was he was leaving me to ditch the condom? No. He settled in, half of his body hanging off the edge of the bed, his feet probably on a rung of the ladder.
“You didn’t come.”
Shit. I’d been so in the moment with him, I’d forgotten to fake an orgasm. He’d probably taken dozens of girls to bed, and given hundreds of orgasms. How was he going to deal with this? Was he confused and disappointed? Frustrated with me?
He didn’t seem frustrated. He looked . . . excited?
“Mmm…” I moaned uncontrollably as he pushed two fingers inside, touching a spot that made my legs twitch. His mouth sealed over my clit, sucking and licking. My brain fractured from the pleasure. Thought ceased, and sizzling bliss took control. It flooded and overwhelmed until I cried out, “Oh my God!”
The orgasm hit me so fast, I shattered into a billion pieces of euphoria. It felt like confetti was fluttering over my body. I forced myself to breathe through it, and when the pleasure subsided, I relaxed, wanting to sink into the mattress.
Jay’s smile said he was pleased with himself.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “that was so much work to get me there.”
His face went blank. “You think that was work? Fuck, Kayla. I’ll do that all night if you’ll let me.”
-22-
KAYLA
Jay got down off the bed, pulled off the condom, and dropped it in the trash. He was back in my bed seconds later, curling around me as the large spoon. His thick arm was heavy, but nice, draped across me. We lay in the quiet, my rushed breathing slowing, and I burrowed back into him, his chin resting on the top of my head.
I was physically tired but mentally wide-awake. “Did your parents make your game?”
“Yeah.”
“They got to see your TD.”
I was facing away from him, but pictured a smile on his lips. “Yeah, they did.”
“They must be so proud, their only son playing in college, maybe going pro.” I aimed for a teasing tone. “Even if he plays for that school I shall not name.”
There was no reaction. Jay had no comeback? I rolled over and found his expression hesitant.
“I’m not their only son.” His face skewed. “I mean, I am.”
“What?”
He scowled for a moment, but it seemed self-directed. “This conversation requires beer.”
He avoided the ladder, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, and took the express elevator down. There was a loud boom when he landed on his feet, which the downstairs neighbors probably didn’t appreciate. I gathered the sheet around me as I sat up, and watched him stride to his can of beer. He took a long sip.
“How old are your parents?” he asked, his back turned to me.
“Holy random question.” I took a second to think about it. “My mom’s late forties. My dad’s fifty-something. Why?”
“My mom’s fifty-nine. My dad’s in his sixties.”
Okay. I didn’t get it.
“My parents wanted a big family, but it took years before my mom got pregnant.” He took another sip, probably draining half of the beer. “After my brother was born, one kid seemed to be all they were going to get. But they were cool with that.”
Cold drifted over me, curling its fingers around my heart. Jay had said he was an only child.
“What happened?” I whispered.
“When Derek was seven, he got meningitis. It came quick and they said he was gone in a few days.”
I gasped and tightened my hold on the sheet. Jay turned and peered at me with a serious expression.
“They didn’t have to tell me it was rough. I don’t know how they made it through, but they had each other. After a while, they decided to try for a family again. My mom glosses over it, but I think that was really hard on her.”
He set his beer down and leaned against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest.
“After a few years, they realized it wasn’t going to happen for them and gave up. Right when they started to look into adoption, along I came.” His tone was heavy. “Their miracle baby.”
Those three words.
God, they said so much.
I had expectations to live up to with my parents, but they weren’t as bad as an only child’s were. And he wasn’t just an only child . . . Was he filling all the hopes and dreams his parents had held for his older brother, too?