Double Score

“Before what? Before we go home tonight and you fuck me again like promised?” I was getting mad. I couldn’t help it. I was seeing his arrogant quarterback side. The side I had read about online.

“That’s not what I was going to say.” He lowered his voice. “I was talking about this. Us.”

“Oh. Us?” My tone softened. Was there an us? It had only been a few days since that night in his apartment.

“I guess I need to say something, Doc. Ask you something.”

“Okay.”

“I need to know you’re not seeing anyone else.”

“Me? You’re worried about me dating someone?” I almost laughed, but he looked dead serious and his green eyes were fixed on mine.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work for me.” He shook his head. “I need a straight answer.”

“And what about you?” I knew I had every right to ask this question, but I didn’t know I’d get the truth. This was the man who never saw the same woman two days in a row.

“Not since Saturday.”

I rolled my eyes. “Wow.”

He grabbed my hand. “Before Saturday doesn’t count. For either of us.” His gaze was deep. “I don’t want anyone else to have you.”

“I’m not property. You make it sound like you can own me.”

He traced the side of my cheek and my breath caught in the back of my throat. My body betrayed every word I said. I knew he owned me. He possessed my body. I’d give it to him as many times as he asked. So why was I playing this game?

“We’re leaving.” He stood, pulling me up with him.

“But we haven’t even ordered,” I protested.

He threw a hundred dollar bill on the table to cover the drinks and chips.

“We can’t finish this conversation here.” He tugged me through the restaurant and into his car. He didn’t say another word as he whipped through the streets and parked in the garage under his building.

“Wes, what’s going on?”

He walked to my side of the car and helped me out, leading me to the elevators. He punched in the code for his penthouse and the silence filled the space as we rode to the top. So did the sexual tension. I could feel my body gravitating toward him. Needing him. Wanting him.

As soon as the door closed behind us, he shoved me against the door, his lips furiously covering mine. I couldn’t keep up as his hand worked under my top, squeezing my breast, twisting my nipple. He spun me around, my hands splayed against the door as he pulled the jeans over my ass and past my knees.

I was trembling and shaking, quivering with need. Whimpering as his hand slid between my legs.

“You don’t think I own you?” His finger curled inside me.

I closed my eyes. Oh God. I gripped him.

His breath was hot on my neck. “Tell me, Lennon. Tell me to take you. Tell me you want me inside you. Tell me you are mine. You belong to me.”

I panted as he dipped in and out of me. The passion built between my legs as he made me wetter with each perfect stroke, grazing my clit, then twisting inside my entrance. I could feel the control leaving my body as if he siphoned it from me.

“Tell me,” he growled against my ear.

“I’m yours. I’m fucking yours.” I sank on his hand. “I don’t want anyone else. I don’t belong to anyone else,” I moaned.

He bit along my neck. I leaned into his chest as his fingers slid in and out of me.

“What are you doing to me?” I whispered.