I didn’t try to resist; I pulled my phone out from my pocket and started to film her, her hair in a messy knot on top of her head, sweat pants low on her hips, and a crop top that exposed most of her lower back, knowing my own laughter was being recorded too.
She was about three lines from the end ofWhat’s Love Got To Do With Itwhen she turned around and stopped mid-word, her eyes widening at me as she pulled her ear buds out and put them down next to her. I made a note to put them away, because I could see them getting lost in the next five minutes.
“I didn’t know you were here.”
I stopped recording. “Managed to get two songs.” I tapped my phone. “If I ever run out of money, I could sell these to the highest bidder.”
Her face broke out into a smile. “I thought you’d be here later.”
I sat down on the bed, picking up her earbuds and putting them on the bedside table before pulling her onto my lap. “I didn’t hang around after the game.”
Her smile was slyly victorious. “Any reason for that?”
“The result.”
Her expression briefly morphed to disappointment, before perking up. “You drew, right? Isn’t that better than losing?”
I laughed quietly and moved a strand of hair from her forehead. “It is. I wanted to get to you, too.”
“Good.” She spun round in my lap, her legs straddling my hips, more tendrils of hair coming lose. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
I didn’t know who actually initiated the kiss, or whether it was a combination of both of us. But the kiss went from tentative and gentle, into a tsunami of want in less time than it took me to steal a ball from a defender. She tasted of mint and a subtle sweetness; her lips soft but demanding all the same.
Hands roamed. Her cropped top was lost within a minute, her breasts exposed for me, and I took my time exploring them, shifting her onto her back and tasting each one, before losing her sweats from her hips and finding the sweetness between her legs. I licked at her clit, finding the right degree of pressure to make her thighs start to tense, taking her to her edge and letting her find that sweet release.
She’d freed me of my T-shirt already, the hat long since gone. I’d heard a comment made about my stubble, but I’d been too consumed with her to remember what it was exactly.
As soon as she’d come, her hands were at the waistband of my own sweats, pushing them down over my ass, then one of her hands cupping my erection. She pressed her fingers on my shaft, running her hand down. My groan wasn’t subtle.
I wanted to be inside her, fucking her hard, making her come around my cock and then spilling inside of her. Her hands and mine pushed my underwear and sweats fully off, impatient legs kicking the clothing away.
“I want in you, Otter.” I braced myself over her, my cock pushing against the entrance to that glorious tight heat.
She smiled like a satisfied queen. “Good. Because that’s exactly where I want you to be.”
It was like a starting gun had been fired. That first push into her burst the dam, my movements fast and deep, her legs wrapping around my waist, her hips rising to meet my thrusts. She was warm and wet and tight around my cock, but my eyes were captured with hers, her lips slightly parted as she moaned my name and other words that mingled with mine.
I didn’t fully understand what she said, or what I said. I just understood that this wasn’t like a hook up I’d had before.
She came just before I did, a fluttering orgasm that detonated, wrecking her body then mine straight afterwards. We lay on the bed, limbs still tangled, her hair now loose. My heart settling into a rhythm that didn’t feel as if I’d ran the length of the pitch five times.
We didn’t speak.
The room was silent, waiting for one of us to fracture it. Waiting. Almost awkwardly.
“We should order food. I need a banquet after that.” Otter didn’t move. “And I should use the bathroom.”
“There are two too manyshouldsin that statement.” Clearly I wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to address the large grey thing in the room.
She sat up and then got off the bed, still naked. Always beautiful. “Decide what food you want to eat and then we’ll celebrate Saturday night.”
“Sure.” I moved myself to pick my phone up, the familiar chirp of a text coming in. First thing I was doing was turning that off.
I saw the sender’s name before I’d held the button down.
Lotte.
I rarely ignored communication from Lotte, mainly because she rarely communicated. I wasn’t going to ignore this.
