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“Why are you breathing like that?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
She choked out a laugh; so much for being on the down low. “I’m doing my breathing exercises.”
“What for?”
“To help me relax. I’m a little wound up.”
“Is it working?”
“Not really.”
“Good. I want you as wound up as I am.” David motioned toward his groin, where there was definitely something going on and she remembered him saying driving with a hard-on was uncomfortable. “It’s only fair.”
A few minutes later, they arrived at Paige’s place and before she knew what was happening, David was rushing them up to her apartment. Then, slightly out of breath, he practically shoved her into her entryway the second she got the door opened.
“My keys!” she called out.
He quickly grabbed them from the lock, closed the door, and then engaged the deadbolt for good measure. The last thing he needed was another interruption from Mrs. Harte, especially while he was feasting on Paige.
Her giggle at his impatience was cut short when he pulled her against him, letting her feel how hard he was. “Every time I see you in a skirt, I want to do this,” he told her, running his hands underneath the flared, knee-length material up to her ass, where they stopped, feeling nothing but bare skin.
“I like my bra and panties to match,” she said softly.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, before grabbing the backs of her legs and picking her up, making Paige grab his neck in surprise and wrap her legs around his ass.
“Watch out for Sputnik,” she warned breathlessly. “Remember when you almost stepped on him?”
“You mean, do I remember when I almost broke my elbow, not stepping on him?”
“You didn’t almost break your elbow. That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”
Her lack of empathy made it clear she’d never slammed her elbow into a wall. However, he was willing to let it go because she was pressed against him, sans panties, and there were more important things needing his attention, like getting her spread out before him like an all-you-can-eat buffet. When he reached her room, his eyes had adjusted enough that he could make out shapes of furniture, and he half-tossed her onto her bed.
“Are you crazy? You almost threw me on the floor,” she complained.
“Now who’s exaggerating?” he countered, reaching over to turn on her bedside lamp, only to accidentally knock it onto the hardwood floor, making almost as much noise as a car crash. “Shit.”
“Did you just break my lamp?”
David searched in the dark until he found it, then picked it up and set it on the nightstand. When he turned the little knob on the side and soft light filled the room, he made a face of disappointment that it still worked. “It’s fine. See?”
She pointed. “No, it’s not. There’s a huge crack in it.”
Indeed, there was. He tried to rotate the lamp until the crack was gone from view, but only ended up widening the crack so that a piece fell off.
“You’re making it worse,” she told him.
“Nothing could make this lamp any worse.”
“Oh, my God, you tried to break it on purpose, didn’t you?”
“No. If I had tried to break it on purpose, it would’ve been thrown against a wall, instead of just being knocked onto the floor.”
Done with the lamp, he turned his attention to Paige—who was lying squarely in the middle of the bed, thank you very much—and took a quick second to enjoy the picture she made with her sweater hanging off one shoulder, her skirt bunched up high on her thighs, and her black leather, spike-heeled boots that were a personal favorite of his. He didn’t know what designer brand they were, but they screamed hot sex to him and put a little more steel in his cock.
He looked for any sign she wasn’t fully on board, and saw only hot anticipation, like it was her first time. And … it kind of was.
For both of them.
