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“Oh, God…” I sagged onto him.
He let out a resonant, muffled growl against my pussy, his tongue pushing deep inside to catch the final, erratic tremors of my release. I thought I’d reached the ceiling, but the sensation of him filling me while I was still sensitive and raw pushed me into a new, dizzying territory.
Trace didn’t give me a heartbeat to recover. He surged to his feet, his large hands hooking under my thighs and hoisting me up as if I weighed nothing. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pinned me to the door.
He reached between us, freeing his cock from the tension of his game pants, and with one unyielding thrust, he buried himself inside me.
This time, with no one around, I gave over to the choked-up cry that pushed out of my chest. He was huge, a solid invasion that stretched my pussy to the limit, anchoring us together with a bruising force.
He paused for a second, letting me adjust to his size as he sucked in a desperate breath. “Is this what you wanted? For me to tear you apart in the dark?”
“Fuck me,” I breathed, my fingers clawing at the hard plastic of his shoulder pads, “or get the hell out.”
Trace’s eyes snapped open, and crooked smirk tugged at his lips. “Gladly.”
He braced his hands against the door on either side of my head and drove into me. His pace was reckless and punishing, turning my world into nothing but the persistent thrust of his hips and the fire he stoked inside me.
There was no holding back. He pushed into me with everything he had, and I met each one of them by lowering my body just enough for him to go in all the way. His head fell back, and sweat beaded on his brow. He was still dressed in his filthy game gear and the smell of sweat lingered on him, but at that moment it turned me on more than anything. To have him inside me while the rest of the team celebrated their win was exhilarating. So wrong. Debaucherous. Dirty.
“I’m gonna come,” he said.
“You always had a short shelf life.”
He flashed a grin for a split second. “Fuck you.”
“No,” I replied with a lusty smile of my own, “that’s your job.”
He kissed me deeply, a clumsy exchange as he pushed away from the door and carried me toward the bed. Never once breaking the connection of our bodies.
I tightened around him with a possessive squeeze of my inner walls that caught him mid-stride. Trace let out a shaky, wrecked groan that vibrated through my chest.
It was something else seeing him like this…
So I did it again.
His composure disintegrated in real-time, and the sight was intoxicating. His head fell back, his jaw locking so tight the muscles in his neck stood out like cords. His lips parted, his breath escaping in sharp, overheated hitches that brushed against my skin.
I felt the power shift in the way his fingers dug into my ass, his grip turning from supportive to desperate. As if he were trying to brace himself against the sensation. For a split second, his knees buckled, a tell-tale dip in his strength that proved he was no longer the one in charge.
He was the man who moved through the world with a calculated, untouchable confidence, but right here? Under the pressure of my body? He was coming undone. I savored the weight of it. The knowledge that I could turn his elite athleticism into a trembling, useless mess with nothing more than a contraction of my pussy.
“I’m trying to make this last,” he breathed against my lips.
“We’ve waited too damn long, Prescott. You can make it last next time.”
He lowered me onto the bed, the sudden withdrawal of his body leaving me cold and aching. I watched, mesmerized, as he stripped out of his gear. The pads hit the floor with a dull, hollow thud, followed by the jersey he’d worn to victory.
He looked like a force of nature. Sweat-soaked, streaked with grit. His muscles were corded and defined, chest heaving as he rid himself of the last of his clothes. When the game pants finally hit the floor, I couldn’t look away. He was fully aroused, his dick a thick, hard weight that twitched with every labored breath he took.
I had spent so long looking past the physical reality of him, using my dislike as a shield, but with him standing naked at the foot of my bed, that shield was nothing but vapor.
He hooked his hands behind my knees and hauled them back toward my shoulders, forcing me wide until I was completely vulnerable to the low light and his darkening stare.
Trace tried to keep his eyes locked on mine, but my pussy open wide was a gravity he couldn’t fight. His gaze dragged down, tracking the path of his own hand as he spread me further, exposing the slick, glistening heat he’d just devoured.
Seeing me so dripping, and undeniably ruined for him, snapped the last of his running back poise. His tongue came out to slowly lick his lips, his mouth pulling into a hungry, predatory line as he took in the way I pulsed for him. He looked like a man starving, and I was the feast he’d spent all night earning.
“How badly do you want me back inside you?” he demanded, his voice thick, his eyes never leaving my wet, aching pussy.
