Page 20 of The Pitcher’s Proposal

“Right there?”

“Yes.”

I keep the pressure steady. Dakota grips my shoulders and starts moving against my fingers, her thighs opening wider over my lap. The fabric grows wetter beneath my hand while I circle her clit, rubbing faster when her breathing starts breaking.

I can’t stop looking at her. Her head tips back. Her mouth parts. Every ample curve of her body is pressed against me while she rides my hand.

“Come for me.”

Her fingers tighten. I stroke her faster. Then Dakota cries out and comes against my hand, her whole body tightening before she collapses forward against my chest. I hold her there while the tremors move through her, kissing her temple and breathing hard myself.

“Jesus,” she whispers.

I smile against her hair. “Good?”

She lifts her head. “Are you kidding me? You know it was.”

Her hand slides down my stomach. Then into my pants. My smile disappears. She wraps her fingers around my cock, and every muscle in my body goes taut.

I kiss her hard, then lift her enough to lay her back against the couch. Her panties come off next, sliding down those gorgeously thick thighs before I toss them onto the floor. Dakota reaches behind me and tugs at my waistband, and I stand up to shove my pants and boxer briefs down.

My cock springs free. Dakota looks at it. Then at me. Her eyes are full of heat and hunger. I move back over her, settling between her thighs. Her legs open around me, and I run my hand over one of them, then take my cock in my fist.

I drag the head slowly through her slick pussy. Dakota inhales sharply. Her hips lift. I position myself against her, then push in.

The first tight inch feels so fucking good that I have to stop. Dakota’s hands grip my shoulders, her eyes fixed on mine as I slowly work deeper.

“Fuck, Dakota.”

She wraps a leg around my hip. I push further into her. Her mouth opens on a moan. Then I bury myself deep, her pussy tight and hot around my cock, and my brain can barely process any of it.

I pull almost all the way out and drive slowly back in. Dakota gasps. I do it again. Deep, measured strokes that let me feel every inch of her. Her hands move over my back while I fuck her, her hips rising to meet mine.

“God, you feel good.”

“So do you.”

I kiss her and keep moving. There’s no rush to it at first. I’ve waited too fucking long for this not to savor it. I want to feel her pussy squeeze around me every time I push deep. I want to hear the little sounds she makes when my hips meet hers.

I want all of it.

Dakota digs her fingers into my back when I change the angle and hit deeper.

“There?”

“Yes. Please.”

I give her the same stroke again. And again.

Her moans grow louder, and my control starts slipping. I brace one arm beside her head and fuck her harder, still deep, still slow enough to drag every stroke out.

She looks up at me. Something about her expression catches inside my chest. I’ve spent eight months telling myself I’m crushing hard on her, fixated, whatever word lets me keep this simple. But there’s nothing simple about the way I feel looking down at Dakota now.

Christ. I’m in love with her.

Dakota pulls me down for another kiss. I give up on thinking. My pace increases, each thrust driving deeper as her body moves beneath mine. Her pussy gets tighter around my cock, and I know she’s getting close again.

“Come with me,” I tell her.