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REED
“Take your time. Ride it out,” I encourage her, releasing my hold on her waist and gently placing my other hand on her shoulder to guide her. And when she does, her lids are weighted, and a possessive pang strikes me in the gut. What does she need to tell me?
The way the light from the window shines makes her bluish-green orbs look cool and dangerous. If anyone is dangerous, it’s me.
“Do you know I’ve never seen you with your hair down?”
She bites her bottom lip as her eyes roam my lips before looking at me under her thick lashes.
My hands glide deftly along the slender curve of her neck, planting tender kisses upon her jawline and delicate cheek. The tips of my fingers trace upwards, gliding upon her tightly wound bun, which is secured by discreet bobby pins. With a gentle, measured gesture, I extract one of the pins, expecting her hair to tumble freely, but it remains steadfastly in place, enticing me to continue unraveling it and possibly unravel her.
Taking a step behind her, I delicately remove the last two pins, freeing several stray tendrils that were once tethered by the ponytail. I’m nearly out of patience when I ease the elastic band from her wavy tresses, causing them to cascade gracefully over her shoulder blades. In a tender display of affection, I glide my lips across each exposed shoulder blade, savoring their softness, before gently turning her torso, drawing her chest against mine in a passionate spin.
“It’s gorgeous. I see the hint of strawberry.” My hands run through it over and over.
The room smells like sex and makes me crave more of her slender frame. I pick her up honeymoon style, and she lets out a hiccup of a laugh, tucking her head into my neck.
It’s a small guest house with a bedroom which has French doors leading to the in-ground pool. Even though it’s winter, and a tarp covers the pool, there are lights strung over the patio and Caribbean blue lights dotting the landscaped area.
Laying her on the bed, naked and only half-explored, I take a few strides to open the sheer curtains, letting the light filter inside the bedroom. “Don’t move.”
I take her in. She’s every man’s wet dream. Average height for a woman with slender but toned legs. She’s tight everywhere inside and out. One knee sinks into the mattress, and I caress her legs as I crawl on top of her.
“I have all the answers now,” I mutter, as I nibble her thighs, snaking my way around her mound. She lifts her hips, but I keep moving up. Stopping on her rosy nipples, still peaked, I twist them between my fingers.
Brooke arches her back. “Yes.”
“So perfect.” I take her whole breast into my mouth, relishing every wiggle as she arches her back stuffing her tits inside my lips She releases a deep moan, and I know Cookie likes to be praised.
With her hair splayed across the white sheets, and her eyes at half mast, I graze her jaw, then settle on her lips. She’s vulnerable and open, and I push inside, and her lids fly open, panic written in her eyes.
Breathily, she asks, “Do you have a condom?” She looks away from me, resting her cheek on the pillow. “I know we already… but you didn’t and …”
“In my wallet.” I rise off the bed, snagging my wallet from my pants located in the other room. “Here.” I hand her the condom, and she focuses on it like she may be changing her mind. “Sorry about earlier. When my mind is on you, there’s nothing or no one who can stop me.”
My knees straddle her hips and when she doesn’t make a move to tear the foil package, I bend over, peppering her with kisses.
“Has my good little ballet teacher never put a condom on a man?”
Her face is already pink from the sex, but it reddens as I grab her jaw with my thumb and finger and steady her gaze on mine. She shakes her head no as her face becomes a deeper shade of red.
My chest swells at her admission. I mean most guys do it themselves but with Brooke, I want to be her first in as many areas as possible. When her cheeks blush, and her chest gets red, it makes me want to stake my claim. Brooke Dulce. Mine.
Except we both know she can’t be. She’s my coach’s daughter, and I can tell she’s a daddy’s girl—wearing her dad’s jersey nearly gave me a heart attack.
I take the package from her hand but when I remove it from the foil, I explain what to do. My fingers cover hers until the condom reaches my base. And I grow harder, knowing I’m giving her new experiences.
Nudging at her entrance, I don’t play around long because her eyes are closed, and her hands are gripping my ass. Her neck arches off the bed, and her hair is strewn over the comforter.
I drive into her slow and easy, rocking our bodies to an inaudible beat. Her center squeezes when I’m all the way in. When I pull out, she closes her eyes. I’ve never had agonizingly slow sex before. As tormenting as it is, we’re connecting on another level. I roll my hips into her, and she pulls back, meeting me in the center. It’s not as deep, which is why I never, well, almost never have sex in the missionary position.
Our eyes collide, and then I watch her lashes flutter closed as her short nails dig into my flesh.
We do this for what seems like an hour, with her having mini-gasms. Then she pants my name repeatedly and squeezes me from the inside out. It feels so fucking good as I swirl my hips and pick up her legs, wrapping them around my waist.
“Come for me. I’m holding on by a thread,” I grunt out into her ear, and droplets of sweat fall onto her skin.
Weighing her down with my body, I tuck my arms around her back and push in farther with her heels digging in my back.
