“It seems foolish to place barriers in the way of this.”
His eyes smoked over. He liked that—taking me without protection, the intimacy of skin-on-skin, my core damp, and getting damper.
Pulling at the hem of my tee, he raised an eyebrow. I loved his eyebrows—they told stories, and right now, the story was: you’re in for a helluva good time. Was it odd to enjoy this?
Making a baby should be a joyful experience. But only if you were in a loving, committed relationship.
I didn’t need Jason Isner for anything more than his sperm. I didn’t need his gorgeous green eyes or square jaw or arrogant smile. I didn’t need the comfort of his body or the assurance he gave me that maybe I wasn’t so crazy to start this journey after all.
But this was nice. More than nice.
I peeled off my T-shirt, suddenly conscious of my age. My breasts in cups looked decent, but without, they just … flopped there.
He cupped the weight of one and gave a squeeze that made me squirm, producing more delicious sensation as my core became wetter. Scooting up, he positioned himself so he could lick a nipple, then take it in his mouth with a lusty suck. He plumped and kneaded as he suckled, creating rivulets of pleasure throughout my veins. Behind my rear, I felt the insistent bob of his cock as it sought my attention. It would get its turn.
But first, I would get mine.
I pulled back, and he was forced to release my breast with a pop and a graveled groan. Leaning over to the nightstand, I picked up the dragonflies scarf I had removed earlier before we ate.
“Superstitious, Doc?”
“Not in the slightest.” I wrapped it around his wrist and twisted, then tied it to the corner of the headboard.
“Now, that’s unexpected,” he said, his voice husky.
“How many times did you say you tie your laces before a game?” I knew but I wanted him to say it.
“Three.” I tied two more knots in the scarf. “Still have my other hand free, though.”
“This bed is too large for me to tie off your other hand. But I expect you to be honorable and not use it.”
His lips twitched. “Honorable? Not sure I’ve ever been accused of that.”
I moved my rear back fractionally until it met his cock, and then I rubbed myself on him. His eyes fluttered closed, then opened.
“See how far you can get,” I murmured.
He placed his free arm behind his head. “You’re in charge, Francesca.”
I wasn’t but it was nice of him to say so.
Raising myself up a few inches, I reached behind to grip him, loving the hiss of pleasure he released as I touched him. And when I lined him up and sank down to take him in fully, his free hand formed a fist. He wanted to touch me badly.
So I touched him enough for both of us, all while we stared at each other. Watching this powerful man unable to move—or choosing to suffer under restraints from which he could easily break free—was exhilarating. I coasted my palms over his strong chest muscles as I seated myself deeper and deeper.
“You’re gonna need to move soon,” he gutted out.
“Worried I might get stuck here?”
I could feel him swelling inside me at the notion.
“No other place I want to be.” The words emerged ragged. “But you need to work my cock, baby. Show it some love.”
The way he spoke to me … I was so turned on. So close to coming, and neither of us had touched my clitoris. Just his mouth, his words, the fullness, the secrecy of it—I was completely undone.
I leaned forward, gripping the headboard, placing my breasts within reach of his mouth. He leaned up to take one inside, at the same time thrusting up into me. Pushing deeper.
As I lost myself and a little of my heart, inch by glorious inch.
