Page 8 of Forever Offsides

Then I stand, and he takes a step back as I work the rest over my hips before it falls to the floor. I’m in only my bra, panties, and heels, and his gaze is capturing every inch of me. He sucks in a wounded breath, grasps my hips, and brings me back down onto the bed.

His lips recapture mine as he gets the last button undone. I push him back until he’s half up, half down, one knee between my thighs and one foot on the floor. I tear the shirt from his shoulders, anxious to touch him. Anxious to see him. He’s as muscular as I knew he’d be, arms firm with big biceps and well-defined triceps—my total favorite. He has swirls of black ink on his shoulder down to his elbow and on his opposite arm, ink from his elbow to his wrist. It’s almost as if the pattern picks up where the other left off.

My nails scrape along his abs, which tighten and tense. I kiss above his navel, and he releases a tremulous breath. Leaning in, his mouth works down my neck to my shoulder while he undoes his belt and the button and zipper on his pants. It’s all these tasks. These ordinary, necessary life tasks, but they’re eating up seconds we could be doing other things. I want his mouth on me without anything obstructing it, so I reach around to unhook my bra before he takes over and slides the straps over my shoulders.

It occurs to me that neither of us has said anything since the hall, and it’s not awkward or tense with that.

It’s from impatience and lust being our driving force. It’s from kissing and touching and wanting the other naked.

I don’t need him to work me up with dirty talk, and if he calls me his good girl and pets me accordingly, he’ll likely get kneed in the balls. Baby girl, I can somehow manage because the way he said it felt tender yet dirty. I want to be ravaged. Consumed. Explored. I want heat and fire and lust so powerful that nothing else enters our thoughts.

Once my bra’s off, he pulls away to see me, and a smile takes over his face. And those dimples. Hell. He rubs the back of his head almost as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself now.

“Shit,” is mumbled beneath his breath.

That’s all I get. Then he’s back on me, pushing me down in wild desperation until my head meets the bed. My breast is captured in his hand while his tongue draws a circle around my nipple. Cool air is replaced with his hot breath, and I shiver and squirm, my hips arching up, my pussy needing contact.

I grab his pants and yank them down over his hips, feeling the silky jersey material of his briefs and the firmness of his ass. I pull him back into the V of my legs and grind shamelessly against him.

He grunts against my nipple, giving it a hard suck that makes me grind harder. “Quinn, if you keep rubbing your cunt on me like that, I’m going to come like a fucking teenager.”

Honestly, I could come from this. That’s how worked up I am. And the feel of his hard cock rubbing the satin of my panties against my clit, giving me a delicious sort of friction, is getting me closer to that point.

Sensing this, his hand slips into my panties and cups me. He growls. “Fuck, you’re soaked.” He rubs me a few times while he sucks my nipple, bites the tip, then crawls down my stomach to his knees. “I have to taste that.”

My panties are pulled off, and my heels hit the floor with a thud. He places my knees on his shoulders and roughly grips my ass so he can slide my pussy straight onto his mouth. I get a swirling, hard, dirty kiss that makes my eyes roll back in my head. I can’t remember the last time a guy went down on me, let alone volunteered his services as tribute.

Christ, that’s good.

My fingers wind into his hair, and I make a fist with them. He inhales me and emits a groan that has my toes curling. He kisses my pussy, then slides his tongue from my clit to my entrance.

My hips jerk as he folds his tongue and thrusts it straight up into me.

“Yes,” I cry out, the hand not in his hair flying above my head to white-knuckle the comforter. His tongue wiggles back and forth inside of me, the sound so fucking wet that if I cared, I’d be embarrassed.

“You taste so damn good,” he mumbles, almost to himself. The barest hint of teeth nips at my clit before he sucks it between his lips. He smacks my ass cheek and pinches it. Then he pinches my clit, and god, that’s intense.

“Come on, Quinn. Fuck my face. Make me take it.”

Holy shit. So much for his manners. Thank god.

I hold his face against me, dig my heels into his back, and grind my clit into his mouth. I fuck his face as he told me to, forcing my pleasure from him. He’s only too happy to give it. In fact, he’s fucking feral over it. Clearly I need to age up if this is how older men give it to you.

Two fingers push into me while his tongue strokes and works my clit. His beard scratches my thighs and the sensitive skin of my pussy, but fuck me sideways if that doesn’t make it better.

I prop myself up onto my elbows and peer down my body till I find the top of his head. His blue eyes are closed, dark lashes on his red cheeks, brow pinched in concentration. He’s groaning and grunting and licking and sucking and flicking and playing and fucking me so deep, my mind spins.

My head falls back between my shoulder blades, and I wrap my thighs around his head to hold him against me. His fingers curve up as they bang into me. And bang is the only word for it. His knuckles bottom out, nailing against me with so much force I rock with it. Pleasure swirls like a drug through my cells, curling from my pulsing clit through my pussy and up to my lower belly. My nipples ache, and I grab one of my breasts so I can roll and pinch it.

I’m so fucking lost. So fucking needy. So fucking wound up, my orgasm hits unexpectedly, shaking a cry and an “Oh” from my lungs. I clench against his fingers, driving down on them while I rub and thrust my clit all over his lips. He licks me through it, only slowing down and ebbing his pressure as my body pulls back from him and my legs go slack on his shoulders.

My eyes close, and my hand lies flat against my heaving chest as I work to steady my breathing and my racing heart. I smile. Then I laugh. Holy shit, that was fucking amazing.

My feet hit the top of the bedframe, and I blink open and tilt my chin down. Rhett stands, sucks his fingers into his mouth, then wipes his cheeks and chin with the back of his forearm. I made him messy, and I have no apology for it.

His briefs are gone, and even though I said holy shit a second ago, I think this time I truly mean it.

Holy shit!