throbbing the most.
I wanted to shift, pull his hand farther down, but I didn’t dare. I was bold that night, but not that bold. Not yet, anyway.
Grinning slightly, I looked up.
His eyes were there, as if he was waiting for me, and just as soon as I realized that, his lips were on mine. Or maybe mine were on his. Either way, it was exactly what I needed. He picked me up, lifting me to straddle him, and we made out the entire ride home. Shay didn’t touch me anywhere inappropriate. No clothing left our bodies, though I ran my hands up under his shirt, making him shudder. I broke off the kiss to catch my breath, but dear God, his chest was amazing. Then he tugged me back, and we were kissing again.
I sensed him pausing a few times. I wasn’t sure why, until at one point I looked and saw he was watching the driver. He’d go back to kissing me a second later until we pulled up outside Shay’s house. He paid for the cab, taking my hand and pulling me around to the back of the house.
“Some of the guys didn’t go out.” He pointed to the living room windows where I could see a lit-up television screen. The rest of the house seemed quiet and dark. We crossed the back patio, but instead of heading for the door that we’d used the last time I was there, Shay went to a far left door.
He used his key to unlock it, and I was surprised to see another stairway going up. It was sectioned off from the rest of the house as if it were its own unit. A door led off to our right, which I assumed would’ve taken us to the kitchen and the main house.
Shay flipped on some lights so I could see and then stepped back to let me go first. He took his shoes off by the door, locked it, and then his hands went back to my hips.
On our way up the stairs, I stopped, just once, and leaned back against him. His lips skimmed up my neck, lingering on my chin before I turned my head halfway to him and our lips caught and held again. I groaned softly. I could stay just like that. In fact, I turned toward him.
I felt him grinning against my lips. “What are you doing?”
I wound my arms around him and lifted myself up, hooking my legs behind his back. “I have no idea.” Then I was kissing him again, and it was true. I really didn’t. My mind didn’t like Shay, but my body did, and right now, I was only listening to my body. I was doing whatever it wanted, and holding on to him, crawling up him, kissing him, raking my hands through his hair—that was what I was going to do.
“Fuck it,” he half-growled and hoisted me farther up him, his hands clamping under my ass. He carried me the rest of the way, going into a back bedroom and then tumbling down onto a bed.
He pulled away once to close the door and lock it. Then he was back, and I lay on that bed, staring up at him. The moonlight lit up his face, and I gulped.
He was the most masterful thing I’d seen.
“Come here,” I said, my voice hoarse again.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. I was so beyond being sure.
He fell onto the bed, catching himself so he was braced above me on his hands. Long minutes passed as he took his time to look me up and down. That only made me hotter. I began writhing, just wanting him, needing him to fulfill a throb between my legs.
He paused, his eyes finding mine, and he shifted on his weight so he was resting on his side. He propped himself up, his hand tracing down the side of my face tenderly. His thumb rested on my lips, and he asked so softly. “Are you for sure about this? Really?”
“Yeah.” I turned my head so I was facing him directly. Our lips were inches apart. “Why?”
“You hate me.”
I shook my head. “I don’t right now.”
“You will tomorrow.”
I touched the side of his face and shook my head. “I might hate you if you don’t touch me.”
He groaned, his eyes smoldering. “Then God help us.” And his lips were on mine again, where I’d been aching for them since they left.
He was demanding. He was commanding. He was consuming. I answered every call of his. I was panting as he skimmed his hand down my front, smoothed over my stomach, and pushed up under my shirt. I was breathing heavy as it was lifted up, and I wound my arms back around his neck, feeling him fall back down slowly until his weight was on top of me.
Goddamn. That felt right, so right.
We were kissing, our lips fused together, and his tongue moved inside. I answered it with mine, and there was a whole other battle ensuing there as he unclasped my bra and then caught one breast in his hand. He encircled it, his thumb rubbing over my nipple, making me shiver. I ran a hand down his back, down his side, and delighted as he trembled under my touch. Returning the favor, I pulled his shirt up, forcing him to break the kiss long enough to free him of the fabric.
Then he was back on me, skin to skin, lips to lips, and I could’ve lain like that for hours. We did the other night, but this had a different feel to it. There was more. I needed more. He wanted more. We were giving more.
“Fucking hell,” he moaned, pulling away but only to start kissing down my throat, my chest, then he found one of my nipples.
I gasped, grabbing on to him as if he were my anchor.
He chuckled, his breath another sensual caress, and his tongue laved over my nipple. Then he moved to the other one, and he began the same. He tasted it. He ran his tongue over it, and he enjoyed how I was gasping at each swirl, each lick, each nip, and every time he touched me. He was worshipping my body, moving down my stomach, lingering there as his hands paused over my jeans. He found the button, and he glanced up. He was waiting. Biting my lip, I nodded my assent, and his fingers popped the button before slowly sliding the zipper down.
His hand slid inside my underwear, finding my center, and then he slid a finger in.
I arched my back, wanting him to go deeper. I wasn’t even joking. I croaked out, “Move that finger, or I’m going to go crazy.”
He laughed, dipping his head down to press a kiss on my stomach, and then he started moving in and out. His hand kept going. I began moving with him, only answering whatever his hand wanted of me, and after a bit, he slipped a second finger, then a third. He kept going deeper with each thrust until I swore I could feel him in my stomach. He’d pull them out and start all over again.
The pleasure was almost blinding.
I kept gasping and moving with him, but he didn’t pick up the pace. He went at his own, content to watch me go nuts. At one point, he looked up, a tenderness in his eyes that I’d never seen before, and he grinned. The smile was slow, and it broke me.
I went over the edge, and I was gasping as my climax slammed into me.
I didn’t understand that look. It was something deep, and it moved something in me, something that I’d never felt touched before. I wasn’t talking about my body or physical caresses. I didn’t understand it, but when he pulled his hand out and moved farther up my body, I reached and guided his lips to mine.
This kiss was different.
It was slow. It was tender. It was special.
It made my toes curl, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world for him to reach for a condom. He grabbed one and then helped me tug the rest of my clothes off. His found the floor next to mine, and Shay rose above me. He waited at my center. I’d just had his fingers there. I was more than ready for the rest of him, and with another kiss, he dipped his mouth down to my shoulder and edged inside.
He felt right.
He stretched my insides and waited for me to acclimate to him before he began thrusting. In and out. He was moving in me, and I was moving with him. It was what I’d been wanting, and it felt so right.
I grasped his shoulders, my nails curving into his skin, and as he thrust inside me, I raked those nails down him.
I felt a scream building, and I muffled it in my throat, but I wanted to yell out.
My mouth was open as he kept moving, in and out, deeper and deeper. The rhythm was steady, the waves were riding over me, and he began going faster.
“Shay,” I whimpered, needing something I couldn’t articulate.
His lips found mine, and he paused, grinding into me. Good God, that felt good. He raised himself, pulling out, only to slide back in once more. He went as deep as he had gone with his fingers, and I could feel him coming close. My body was beginning to twitch. The pressure was building, but he pulled out and turned me over. He bent over my back, sliding back inside, and I moved my head. Our lips caught and held.
He began pounding into me.
I gasped, arching my chest out.
Shay leaned up, his hands finding my hips, and he went harder and harder.
I hurtled over the edge, falling down onto the bed. I caught myself, as his hand skimmed my back. He kissed me tenderly, and then he finished.
We stayed in place. I was bent over. He was holding himself upright, his hand resting on my ass, and then he bent over me. His lips grazed my shoulder, and he pulled out, falling to the bed beside me.
I was panting for breath.
He was, too, and he curled an arm around my waist, spooning me from the back. He fit alongside me, molding his body to mine as his arms wrapped tightly around me. I lie there, riding out the tremors of my climax as he peppered my bare shoulder with slow, lazy kisses.
After a moment, once our breathing had returned to normal, he slipped his leg between mine and buried his head into my shoulder.
“So.” He kissed my neck softly. “We did that.”
I laughed, patting his hand tucked under my breast. “Is that what we did?”
He chuckled into me, and I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of him. “Something like that.” He rested on his back, loosening his hold on me, and I turned over so I was lying on my side, facing him. I rested a hand on his chest, and his eyes watched mine until his hand found my own.
I murmured, “I don’t regret that.”
He hooked his finger around mine. “Really?”
I nodded. I couldn’t, not anymore. Not after we made out in my closet, then my bed, and after I was practically begging him for it at the bar.
I croaked, “I touched your bulge.”
He started laughing, curving more into me. “You did.”
“It was the most momentous and memorable part of the night.”
I was grinning.
He lifted his head. “Really?”
He wasn’t.
I nodded. “For sure. I became the definition of a wanton hussy.”
He started laughing again.
I kept going, “I can imagine all the stories that start with, ‘The day she touched my bulge’, or ‘The day I touched his bulge,’ ‘The moment my hand felt his jeans, and his dick swelled underneath’, or even . . .” I was laughing now, “‘I laid my hands on him, right over his jeans, and he rose up. He answered my call. I called out, Come forth, hard penis, and answer milady’s beckoning. My hips call upon your touch. You must heed and give forth plentiful of your pleasure.’”
He continued laughing, wrapping his arms around me, and somehow he had curled his entire body around mine again. I was lying on my back once more, and he stopped, lifting his head from my neck. He gazed down at me, shifting to rise up on his elbow. He caught some hairs and tucked them behind my ear, letting his hand linger there, holding me gently.
He grew serious. “I want to keep doing this.”
I rested my hand over his on my face. “Fucking me from behind?”
He grinned and then sobered. “No. This, whatever it is. We don’t need to put words to it, if you don’t want to.”
I groaned. “Please, don’t. I tend to get bitchy when words are applied to situations.” I sobered a bit and let the joking slide. “I won’t date you.”
His eyes sharpened.
I added, “But I’m okay with this.” Good gracious, my body was already going through withdrawals. A renewed need was rising, but I pushed it off. “Maybe we can talk about it, as in we’re making plans to do more of this, but no real talking otherwise.”
He shook his head, grinning. “You’re like a guy’s wet dream. Do you realize that?”
I smiled, shrugging. “I like to think I’m my own wet dream.”
He groaned, his lips finding mine again. He pulled back a moment later. “Are you sure about this?”
Moment of truth? I said, “No.” His eyes held mine, and I clarified, “But I don’t care right now.” I grabbed his head, found his lips with mine, and it wasn’t long before we were both groaning again.
The stairs creaked under my weight, and I paused for the thirtieth time that morning.
“What are you doing?”
I sucked in my breath and looked up. Shay was at the top of the stairs, shirtless, and his sweats rested deliciously low on his hips. I managed a smile. “Experiencing a new term called ‘stairway of shame.’” I cracked a grin. “I’m going to call a cab to avoid that one.”
He groaned, scratching his chest idly. “Get your cute ass up here. I’ll change. We’ll get breakfast. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“You have your Jeep here?”
He nodded, yawning. “I got a ride to the bar last night.” He motioned for me to follow him. “Come on. I could use a shower, too.”
I followed him and somehow found myself in the shower with him, grabbing on to the showerhead as Shay was thrusting inside me ten minutes later.
I gasped, and he adjusted his hands, holding me upright as I tightened my legs around his waist.
After we both climaxed—which was another whole holy-fuck-shit-mother-of-God moment—my legs were definitely weaker, I fell to his bed and rolled onto my back. “Your dick is out of me, and I swear that I’m feeling withdrawals.”
He barked out a laugh, reaching into his closet. He pulled out another pair of sweats and a couple of shirts. He tossed a sweatshirt my way, along with a smaller pair of black pants. I asked, “What’s this?”
“I’m taking you to breakfast. Figured you wouldn’t want to wear the same clothes from yesterday.”
He had a point. Mine had smells I didn’t want to identify. I pushed onto my elbows so I could watch him as he began pulling on his sweats and sweatshirt.
I groaned, falling back down. “You’re going to ruin me. I just know it.”
He laughed, tossing my bra and underwear at me. “Do you want those?”
I grabbed them and wrinkled my nose. They were filled with smoke from the bar, but they’d have to do. I wasn’t willing to be completely willy-nilly. Sitting up, I started to dress.
My entire body was satiated. I hadn’t felt like this since a really hard workout, and I’m talking my senior year. I was feeling the same effects, even some of the same sore spots, but this one had been so worth it.
A few minutes later, we headed down the stairs as Shay explained that a few other football players lived on the same floor with him. The house was divided so each floor was like its own apartment, but the biggest kitchen and living room were on the main floor. While some might use the second floor or third floor’s living room, the main floor was the main hub of the house.
I asked, as we went down the stairs, “What floor are you on?”
His hand touched my waist. “We’re on the third. The least amount of rooms and the most privacy.”
We were nearing the door that attached the stairway to the main floor and the kitchen. I could hear voices, male and female, along with dishes and chairs scraping over the floor. Someone was coming toward us, and as we got to the end, Shay leaned around me and flicked the lock on the door. The knob turned, and we heard, “Who locked this door?”
Shay urged me outside, and we hurried.
Once we got on the driveway and walked to the street, he explained, “I didn’t want to deal with a lot of ribbing this morning.”
I shrugged. I was okay with that.
He caught my hand and led me the rest of the way to his Jeep Wrangler. Fifteen minutes later, we were heading inside a little diner.
I knew we should have a real talk, but I didn’t want to. I knew who this guy was. He was near a celebrity at our school, and he was sleeping with me. It wasn’t normal for a guy like him to be with a girl like me, but it was happening. Maybe I hated him at the beginning because I knew this was where we were going, or maybe