He grabbed her with scary ninja stealth and hauled her over to the couch to straddle his lap. “The night we made the baby was fun. We don’t have to worry about protection. I see no downside. We can do it for as long as it works.” He rested both of their bowls on the side table before letting his hands come up and cradle her ribcage and back. She couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped her from how good, how right it felt to be in his arms.
They hadn’t had this much contact since that night … and yet it didn’t feel nearly as weird as she expected it to. She didn’t expect it to feel thisnormal.
She licked her lips. “You’re being very businesslike about all of this. Should we be drawing up a contract?”
He shrugged as his hands traveled up under her sweatshirt and his thumbs grazed her peaked nipples. “It’s the practical solution to both of our problems.”
She had to choke back a laugh even as her body trembled beneath his erotic touch. “And what would beyourproblem? You can’t tell meyouhave trouble getting laid.”
He didn’t say anything but instead grunted and adjusted himself, making his arousal, his need for her very present.
“Besides,” he went on, “I’d rather fuck you than watch this cooking show garbage any longer.” His mouth crashed down on hers, and his tongue wasted no time waiting for permission and wedged its way into her mouth, lapping and twirling around her own.
And once again, they were frantic. What had just moments ago been a relaxing dinner between what was quickly becoming two friends and futureco-parents was now a lust-filled and almost determined animalistic need to fuck. Hands roamed and peeled away at clothing as fast as their fingers could move. Leaning forward, she licked his throat and pressed a kiss to his Adam’s apple before he pulled away, and she motioned to remove his shirt. Krista paused and just stared as he tossed the soft black cotton to the floor.
“Holy God.” She swallowed. “Are those even real?” She poked a finger at one of his pecs. It was hard as stone. “And those? Are those real too?” Both her hands ran up his arms and gripped his biceps. Once again, boulders beneath her fingertips. She hadn’t a chance to admire him, his beauty, his power, his strength when they were together last time. It’d been late, dark, and she’d been incredibly drunk and single-minded. But tonight, they were sober, the light was on, and the man in front of her was a work of art. Art that needed to be, deserved to be ogled, worshiped, appreciated.
“Everything is real.” His voice was deep and thick. With brute force, he grabbed at the hem of her hoodie and pulled it over her head, bringing her T-shirt with it. His eyes flared as he drank her in, raking her body. His scan stopped on her stomach, and his chest actually shook as his hand fell to her belly, his eyes searching hers for permission. She gave it to him.
“You’re sure I can’t hurt the kid?” he asked softly, his fingers and palm taking up the entire span of her stomach. He was warm, and his touch soft, although calloused and worn from hard work. She felt safe in his touch, in his arms.
“I’m sure.” She smiled.
“Well in that case … ” And with the flick of his wrist, he pushed her up out of the chair and off him and stood up.
Shirtless and rippling with muscles, Brock seemed even bigger, even fiercer standing in front of her. His heated gaze fell on her face and a small, barely discernible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he gripped her hip and spun her around, pulling the back of her body tight against his. His tongue trailed down her neck, shoulder and back up again. His teeth nipped at the shell of her ear as one hand made its way below the waist of her pajama pants andinto her panties, drawing delightful little circles around her throbbing clit. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, savoring his touch, how good it felt to have his hands on her again. She pushed her backside into his growing erection and giggled when he groaned, bucking into her.
He bent her over, pulling her pajama pants and underwear down in the process. She kicked out of her pants and then stood there, her fingers kneading the soft leather of the couch as Brock’s capable hands massaged and caressed her craving backside.
Was it too early to ask him to spank her? She’d have to put a pin in that and see. Because one thing for sure, Krista liked it a little rough. Liked a little pain with her pleasure.
He gripped both her hips, positioned himself behind her, and then drove home. She let out a soft grunt from the impact, but damn if it didn’t feel good. She loved this position, which was ironic given how submissive it was and how in control she liked to be. But they wouldn’t finish like this. This was just the beginning. She squeezed her muscles around him as he pushed into her.
She needed this.
God, how she’d needed this.
Her vibrator just wasn’t cutting it these days. And now, after another taste of Brock Hart, she wasn’t sure it ever would.
Lost in the moment, she reveled in the feeling of Brock deep inside her, filling her, fulfilling her. The spank came out of nowhere, startling the daylights out of her. She yelped and then fell face first into the couch, her arms flying out from under her and causing Brock to slip out.
“You okay?” he asked, helping her up.
She looked back at him and smiled. “Yes. Again.”
Triumph, wicked and primal, glimmered in his green eyes. “Sorry, I should have asked first.”
She shook her head. “No. I want more. Harder.” She assumed the position and he was back inside her in seconds. Three hard, lightning-quick smacks hadher panting and pushing into his palm, grinding her backside up to reach his pelvis. Her pussy dripped down her thighs, and her legs shook from his power.
He was having a hard time holding on. His grunts and wavering patterns said he was riding that beautiful edge between insanity and pure bliss. But she wasn’t quite there, and she wanted to be on top.
“Let’s … let’s change positions,” she said breathlessly, motioning to stand up. “You sit on the couch, and I’ll straddle you.” His eyes flared lambent as she stood back up and turned to face him. His gaze settled on her breasts. He licked his lips. “Careful with these, though. They’re rather tender.”
He sat down on the couch. Krista’s top teeth snagged her lip and bit down hard at the sight of his cock straight on. They’d had quick and dirty sex in the dark last time, so she hadn’t really had a good view. But there it was standing at attention, hard, thick and eager as it rested against his belly. She climbed onto his lap and put her thighs on either side of his, rising up only to sink back down. A groan escaped them both. He brought his hands up and cupped her breasts, flicking and twisting the nipples, bringing one to his mouth and laving at it with his velvety tongue. She bobbed up and down in his lap, letting his pubic hair and pelvic bone hit her clit in just the right way.
She was close, damn close. And then Brock did something unexpected, yet again. The man was full of surprises. He gripped her by the ponytail, hauled her head back and up, then lunged at her mouth, capturing her sighs and gasps with his own.
They came together, finding their release at the same time, connected as the pleasure unfurled and ripped its way through them. Slashing and shredding everything in its path until they were limp and boneless, chests heaving.
