Page 44 of Hard to Score

He reaches up to frame my face and with his erection pressing against my lower abdomen, presses his lips to mine again. The kiss is long, slow, and tender. The kind that draws out every last ounce of desire while simultaneously heightening it. The type that makes you weak in the knees and aching in all the right ways.

The kind teenage girls dream of but then realize when they get older are only things in romance novels or movies.

Or so I thought.

Until Drew.

Because he worships my mouth with an unrivaled reverence. He’s heating my body to the point that I can’t wait to burn.

And oh, how I want him to make me burn.

But he takes his time lighting the wildfire. He blazes a path with his mouth down the line of my neck and his fingertips trace over the peaks of my breasts. Little fires everywhere. Tiny sparks waiting to ignite.

Needing to touch him in turn, I slide my finger beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs to find him hard and ready. His hiss at my touch is all I need to circle my fingers around him as best as I can and stroke his length.

His kiss falters as he revels in the sensation. My own gasp follows soon after when he pushes down my panties and his fingers find their way between my slit. My thighs tense as he brushes a thumb over my clit before tucking a finger inside of me.

“Drew,” I moan as he continues his onslaught of bliss a few more times before laying me down onto the bed to pleasure me properly. His knees press mine apart as he watches his fingers work me over.

In.

Out.

A quick rub over the hub of nerves at the top.

The scrape of his stubble as he leans forward and takes the peak of my breast into his mouth.

The look in his eyes as he watches my arousal coat his fingers the more he pleasures me.

“Drew.” His name is a drawn-out whisper emitted between clenched teeth and a delirium of desire.

“You’re not getting me until I get you, baby,” he murmurs. “Not a chance on your life I’m going to miss watching you come undone.”

And those words mixed with his deft actions do just that. They slip and slide and rub and pleasure until my vision goes white and my body turns hot, as it bursts into a million splintered pieces.

My hands grip his hands, then the sheets, as my back bows, and my breath holds, and every sensation becomes my focal point.

He stays perched between my legs. I know he’s watching me. I’m more than aware of it, but I’m so lost in my orgasmic haze that I don’t care. It’s only when the waves of pleasure turn to ripples that I’m able to crawl out from beneath its blanket. I find him sitting there like a Greek god watching how my muscles pulse around the very tip of his cock that he’s jacketed up and rested against my slit.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, his eyes finding mine. But there’s something about the way he says it, and the intensity in his eyes, which makes me feel shy. It strikes me funny in the moment. I’m laid bare after completely coming undone by his hand and his cock is lined up to take me, yet two words and two intense blue eyes have my cheeks heating.

My smile in return is fleeting because he chooses that moment to slowly press his way into me. And good God, does he feel exceptional as my body stretches and burns blissfully until he fills me completely.

There’s a strangled moan that echoes around the room. It could be mine, it could be his. I don’t know. I’m so lost to the feeling of him when he begins to move inside of me that all thought, all reason, is completely lost to it and to him.

His hands grip the insides of my thighs and hold me still as his hips thrust, punctuated with that satisfying slap of skin against skin.

We move in sync. Two bodies vying for the same destination.

Two people needing a connection.

Two lovers desperate to give each other release.

It’s a battle of wills, a combining of libidos, and an intertwining of bodies, as sensations rule and passion lights a fuse that have us gripping and groping and moaning and groaning.

“God, Brex,” he says as his head falls back and the tendons in his neck grow taut while my body begins to tense. “I can’t—you need to—fuck . . .” The last word is a drawn-out breath as he urges me on and lets me know he won’t last much longer.

My breath quickens. My pulse races. My mind focuses on the man between my thighs while my body reacts to the pleasure he gives, and within seconds I’m crashing over the edge into oblivion.