Page 59

For a while, we lie there in silence, or as close to it as the motel will allow. Creaks and distant pipes echo through the walls, the neon sign blinking across her shoulder, the bed dipping where our bodies settle into unwilling familiarity. I tell myself I can sleep now, if only I could stop noticing the way she remains tense against me, her skin heated and her fingers restless.

Eventually, my arm grows heavy across her waist, and peace finds me just before my hand shifts. It wasn’t intentional, more like instinctual. A harmless slide of my palm beneath the hem of her shirt until my fingers press against the warm line of her spine. A flutter of lashes tickles my chest, while every muscle in her body tightens. I keep my breathing even, waiting for the moment she settles before I drift my hand higher again.

In an instant, the tension between us becomes a delicious game. A test of how far she’ll let me go. First to her ribs, then the delicate underline of her breast. Meg’s breath catches against my bare chest. Attempting to hide my small smile in the pillow, I shift and instinctively, my thigh eases between hers. I didn’t expect the level of heat searing through her shorts, and my cock responds instinctively.

Meg’s fingers tighten against my chest, her nails biting lightly into my skin and causing me to hiss. In that instant, we both know that there’s no sleep happening here tonight. Not even when I complained that I needed to rest before I start driving again tomorrow. In fact, the looming weight of tomorrow is exactly what we’re both trying to forget.

Meg readjusts, grinding her hips to not-so-subtly chase the friction I’ve offered. I keep still, every muscle locked down and every breath measured while her restraint frays against me. With every small shift of her hips, I bet she’s furious at herself, probably at me too. I’m the epitome of what she has said she doesn’t want, yet it’s my thigh burning her up, my chest pressing against her cheek, my lips finding her temple again.

“Take this off,” I suddenly speak, tugging lightly at her cami vest. That was the final test, the ultimate moment Meg could shove me away and deny what has just happened. Yet, she obeys far too easily, and the sight of her silhouetted in neon steals every thought from my skull.

I’ve seen Meg in uniforms, practice gear, blood, fury, exhaustion, and rain, even naked, but this version threatens to ruin me in a different way entirely. Peeling her top off and throwing it aside, she looks down at me like she’s done fighting. She’s done hiding what I know is between us.

“So responsive,” I remark, my voice roughening despite myself. My hands settle upon her ribs again, my thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts with appreciative strokes. I’m barely touching her, yet her body arches into the contact. A small sound escapes her parted lips and punches straight through my chest. “If I’d known you were so in need, I'd have initiated this earlier.”

Meg’s eyes sharpen instantly. I can’t fight the smirk that pulls at my mouth, and I watch her pride snapping back into place. Letting me lead is as good as letting me win. Meg smacks my hands away.

“Shut up and lie still.” I let her nudge me back into the mattress, more amused than I have any right to be. I knew she wouldn’t submit to me for long, and her sharp command makes my cock throb. Meg climbs over me, causing the mattress to groan beneath us. She’s always beautiful, but she’s stunning like this. The body of an athlete, slender and lithe against the red wash of light coating her. Her hair falling around her face, her mouth swollen from biting back every insult she’s resisted throwing my way.

“There she is,” I breathe. Meg is quick to silence me with a rock of her hips, her heated core against my hard dick trapped within my boxers. I swear I black out for a second, the world fading away at the feel of her riding me through the material separating us. For this one selfish moment in time, nothing has to exist, nothing but the pained concentration of her face and the roll of her pussy over my shaft.

I lift a hand, tracing her slowly from ribs to hip, then lower, enjoying the way her breath stumbles even as she glares down at me like I’m the problem. I am, obviously, and I intend to always be if she keeps looking at me like that. Keeps looking at me in general. Dipping my hand beneath the waistband of her shorts, my fingers glide around her clit and lower to find her dripping wet.

“Holy fuck, Meg,” I hiss, the words scraping out before I can stop them. Her reaction answers me instantly, her head tipping back, body tightening as I move back to her clit, finding exactly the right pressure she likes. “Why am I getting the impression this wetness isn’t for me?” Meg’s eyes roll forward, heavy-lidded and defiant, and I smirk right back. “It’s okay. I’ll take on the challenge of holding your attention now.”

“You talk too much,” she groans, leaning down to sink her teeth into my bottom lip. The flash of pain pulls a sound from my throat, my free hand shooting up to grip the back of her head. Holding her there, I force her to stay until the kiss develops into what it should be. Passion fueled and dangerous.

Heat clashes, a war of tongues taking place in the dark as I roughly circle her clit with my thumb. Only when her breathing turns ragged against my mouth do I pull back, staring straight into her dazed eyes.

“I want you with me all night,” I murmur, my voice rough and distant. “But first, I’m going to empty whatever is going on in that brain of yours.”

Meg’s reply, or whatever it would have been, disappears when I flip her beneath me. The gasp she gives is worth every bruise I’m sure she’ll repay me with later. My hands land on either side of her head, caging without trapping. Even now, even like this, I need her to know she can push me away, and thankfully she doesn’t.

Her chest rises and falls between us, her cerulean eyes bright in the gloom, and the trust that seeps through her lack of resistance does something disastrous inside me. I drag myself back before the tenderness becomes too visible and kiss my way down her body instead.

The trail I carve between her breasts and down her stomach burns against my lips like wildfire, while every little sound Meg makes breaks another piece loose inside my soul. Every arch, every shiver, every frustrated attempt to pretend she isn’t surrendering feeds the darker, hungrier part of me that has wanted her attention from that very first broken lacrosse stick.

I take my time, teasing her skin to test where the goosebumps rise, where it causes her core to tighten. Pulling her silk shorts down and tossing them aside, I drop between her thighs just as her fingers sink into my hair. Half expecting her to pull me away, I pause, knowing I’m close to the point of no return. Once I’ve dipped my head and tasted her, I’ll be addicted. There’s no question of that.

But Meg doesn’t pull me away. She pushes me down. Her hips rise to meet me, so I ply my hands over her creamy thighs and pin her in place. I don’t want her to squirm whilst I inhale the sweet scent of her cunt. I want her to lie there and endure every second. An appreciative sound builds in my chest, the animal in me rising to the surface as I pry her open and simply appreciate. She’s perfectly pink and shaven, my tongue darting out to moisten my lips at the wetness seeping from her. There won’t be any easing in, no gentle licks or light kisses.

The second my lips seal around her clit, and she bucks against my hold, I’m a goner. A man starved. My tongue drags across her opening, lapping up her taste before returning to her clit. I can’t help myself, can’t stop myself, and when I peer up to see her arm now slung over her eyes, jealousy spears through me like a physical blow.

“Whose name are you going to scream, Meg?” I almost growl. Her eyes flash open then, a clear challenge burning through the lustful haze.

“Fuck you.” I smirk against her, willing to play this game as long as she’s the prize.

“So stubborn. I’m going to hold you on this ledge until my name is the only one on your mind.” She glares at me like she wants to kill me, while I grin back like a man who knows exactly how much she would enjoy doing that too. The push and pull between us sharpens, rivalry and desire clashing, her pride fighting strong even though her body is freely giving itself away.

Spreading her thighs wider, I trail my fingers along her seam until wetness coats them. Once they’re slick enough, I hold them up in the neon light so she can watch them glisten before I lick and suck her taste from me. Christ, she’s intoxicating. Noticing the moment Meg’s teeth sink into her bottom lip, I line my fingers up with her entrance and hold them right there, right on the edge.

“You need this. Let yourself go for once.” Spearing her with those two fingers, Meg cries out, her hips bucking against my other hand. I hold her there, hanging on the edge as my fingers curl against her g-spot and finger fuck her until she sees stars.

At the same time, I shift the hand holding her in place for my thumb to press against her clit, drawing rough, slow circles. I can feel how close she is, how she’s trying and failing to resist giving in to me. As if I would make this so easy for her.

Suddenly withdrawing, Meg’s whimper is harsh and guttural. I don’t bother hiding my smirk, pushing my two fingers back into my mouth and sucking them clean. Meg tracks every movement, her eyes burning with desire and her chest flushed.

"Say my name, Meg," I demand harshly. Meg might confuse my hoarseness for irritation, but that’s not it. My cock is straining against my boxers, dizzy on her scent and taste, halfway to exploding before I’ve even entered her. To my surprise, Meg clamps her lips together and shakes her head. I swear some precum leaks out at that, her defiance becoming like a vice around my balls.