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“Oh baby. This fine ass of yours is begging for a spanking. Or I could start by smacking you here…” She gasped at the all-too-brief slap of his fingers against her overloaded clit. Was he really going to spank her?
He didn’t give her much time to ponder the question. Dimly, she heard him swear and the jerk of his zipper before the telltale sound of a foil packet.
“Hang on, darlin’,” he said hoarsely.
Then he was moving into position, forcing her thighs wide and surging between them while she was still convulsing from her endless climax. She let out a noise that bordered on a scream and hurtled forward from the force of his jean-clad legs pressing against the backs of her thighs.
His cock tunneled inside to the root in one pass, sliding along sensitive nerve endings and tearing another cry from her throat. He grabbed her breasts, slamming her backward into him again and again while she clung to the footboard and prayed she’d live through one more orgasm with this man.
Ruined? Hell no. She’d been branded by him, used in the best way possible. How had she lived so long without knowing what it could be like?
She rocked into his thrusts, sure she wouldn’t be able to come again so soon. He wasn’t touching her clit, just her nipples, and there was no way she’d dare let go of the frame to help herself out.
The familiar tightening in her belly caught her by surprise, almost as much as the pained groan he released a second before he yanked on her hair. He jostled her off her knees, and they went freefalling backward, his cock somehow still buried deep, and then he was urging her hips up, bouncing her on his length like she’d been in this position all along.
Dizzy, overwhelmed, and needing to see, to experience every bit of this, she tugged at her blindfold.
“Keep it on.” His guttural tone struck her to the core as he stilled her hand. “Just fuck me.”
Something in his voice. She couldn’t identify it, didn’t know why she had to get the scarf off her eyes. But she batted at him as she simultaneously squeezed him far inside, using his distraction to get the blindfold off. She climbed off of him, registering his muffled oaths, and turned to see his contorted features and haunted eyes.
Hunger darkened his expression, but not only hunger. Actual pain. She darted her gaze down his body, trying to understand, to put together the pieces, and glimpsed the scars on his right knee. The knee jutting to the side at an awkward angle as he panted and waited for her next move.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “You had surgery? When?”
Jaw working, he stared over her shoulder. “A couple of months ago. After the season.”
“You’ve been pushing yourself through training. And you kneeled with me, for God’s sake. This time and last. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh sure. Any girl wants to be with a guy with a busted knee. That’s so sexy. Why don’t I whip out my crutches so we can have a really wild time?”
The self-loathing she heard made her eyes smart anew. “Vic mentioned something but cut herself off. I should’ve pressed. You’ve been hurting yourself more.” Unable to staunch her need to soothe him, she touched his knee, and he didn’t so much as exhale. But she felt the quake in his muscles as surely as if it were her own. When she was certain her voice would be steady, she raised her gaze to his face. Stress lines bracketed his eyes and mouth. “What makes it feel better? Ice or heat?”
“A fucking orgasm would be a good start.”
His cranky reply shouldn’t have made her lips twitch. She turned her face away, but she wasn’t quick enough.
“Oh sure, you laugh,” he said. “But you were on your way to three.”
“Later we’ll try wrapping it in a sock of frozen peas. Works like a charm and stays in place during light activity, too.”
“Say what?” His incredulity made her laugh. “Now you’re playing naughty nursemaid?”
He kept bringing up different roles. Was he trying to give her a hint? Or did he want something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—verbalize?
“What if I was?” She shifted on her knees, opening them slightly, allowing him an unfettered view while she slid her hand up her side to cup her breast. Lightly, as if she wasn’t paying much attention. She walked her free hand down his torso and along his cock before sliding beneath to tease his balls. “Do you need me to take your temperature?”
“No. I can tell you it’s in the red zone. Christ, woman.” He flung his arm over his eyes, and she grinned.
Role-play was sounding better and better all the time.
“So, how do you feel about me buying a little outfit?” Casually, she shifted until she could lie on her side with her head on his stomach, and then she caressed his big, muscled thighs.
“A little outfit like what?” There was no ignoring the catch in his voice.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She dragged her thumbnail along the inside of his thigh and savored his inhalation. “That schoolgirl outfit you mentioned. Maybe a nurse’s getup. They must have that at a costume store, right? Though my breasts never fit in those tops.” She flashed him what she hoped was a sultry smile and found him peering down at her, like he was soaking her up with his eyes. “Curse of being too full-figured, I guess.”
