Page 120 of What About Us

“Mm, I like it when you ask nicely.” I bite that lower lip and give it a tug. “And I really love seeing you in my name. It’s hot as hell.”

She lifts her pelvis, wanting me to sink inside her.

“Need you,” she whispers against my lips. “To fuck me.”

Tipping my forehead against hers, I pull back until the crown of my cock lines up with her entrance, and then I push all the way inside until I’m buried completely, and we both moan.

“Fuck, your cunt is so goddamn perfect. So tight.”

Her legs come up around my hips, and I bury one hand in her hair as I start to move.

“So perfect,” she whispers, watching me with bright-blue eyes. “God, Xander.”

“That’s right.” I pick up the pace, just a little. “Mine. Who do you belong to, Ivy?”

“You. Fuck, yes, right there.”

“Say it again.” I glance down so I can see us, watch as I disappear inside her and then pull back out, wet from her.

“You.” She swallows hard. “I’m yours. Oh God.”

“Mine. This pussy is mine.” I start to pound harder, moving faster. “Fucking hell, you’re so goddamn everything, Ivy.”

She’s going to come. I can feel her starting to tense up, her mouth drops and she closes her eyes.

“Look at me.”

She obeys, and Christ, I could get lost in those baby blues.

“Come apart, Red. All over me. Go over.”

Her hips jerk, and she squeezes around me so hard that my eyes cross. But before her orgasm fades, I pull out and turn her over, bunch the jersey in my fist so I can see my name and number, and slam inside her once more, railing into her.

“Yes!” Ivy looks at me over her shoulder, and pushes back on me, and fuck.

I won’t last like this. She’s every fucking fantasy I’ve ever had in my life.

With a shout, I plunge deep and come hard, losing myself in her. Filling her up.

And she rocks back into me, practically begging for every last drop.

I pull out and swipe a finger through our mess, and Ivy opens her mouth in invitation.

“You’re such a dirty girl,” I say, grinning as I offer her my finger and she sucks it clean. “And I fucking love it.”

“I know,” she says when I pull the digit from her lips. “It works for us.”

“And your Denver Flurry win tonight, by the skin of their teeth,” the announcer says, and we turn our attention back to the screen where the final score is 4–3.

“We won,” Ivy says, clapping her hands.

“You’re adorable. Is this how you always are when you watch my games?”

“Of course. When I’m working, I high-five everyone at the bar, whether they’re a Flurry fan or not. They’d better say they are if they want a refill from me.”

I pull her in and kiss the fuck out of her.

“But, I’m your favorite.”