Rockstar Baby (Crescent Cove 6)

He grabbed a condom, hooked an arm around my waist and dumped me on my back, rolling between my thighs. “Would a nice man do this?” He snapped the condom on and eased himself inside of me.

I arched at the quick invasion, but I was embarrassingly ready for him.

He buried his mouth in my neck. “Fuck, why do you feel so damn good?”

I groaned and adjusted my position to take more of him. I hissed out a breath as he drew back and sunk into me again and again. Sweat pooled between us as we grappled with each other. Teeth and lips clashing as he tried to prove to me that he wasn’t a sweet and giving lover.

Instead, he was showing me he was just the opposite. Before he got off, I was always treated to at least one orgasm, if not two. And this time was no different. Even with just an evening and half an afternoon between us, he knew my body better than any boyfriend who’d come before him.

My nails clawed down his back to grip his ass to pull him deeper, ride him harder as my feet dug into the bed to rise up to meet each of his thrusts. By the end of the power play between us, my head was hanging off the end of the bed and my chest was heaving with the need for oxygen.

Rory’s cheek was pressed to my belly, and I was pretty sure I’d just learned an entirely new language.

“What is that language you keep muttering just before we…you know.”

He lifted his head. “You know?”

“Come our brains out.”

He nipped the skin next to my belly button. “Shouldn’t be doing it if you can’t say it.”

“Shut up.”

He laughed. And rolled off me to flop onto his back. “I didn’t realize I was saying anything.”

“Evasive maneuvers, sir.” The blood was rushing to my head. I inched down until I was next to him then noticed the time on his watch. “Oh, shit.”

“What?”

I scrambled off the bed. “I can’t believe we’ve been fucking for almost three hours.”

“Well, there was a shower in there, but huh. Yeah, I guess so. Quite the nooner, my little ginger fairy.”

I flipped my hair back and groaned at the rolled up state of my shirt. “Thank God, I’ve got a spare uniform in my locker.” I shook it out, but it was nearly hopeless.

He rolled onto his side. “My shirt will be miles too big on you, but you can borrow one if you’d like.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Not a bit.” He slid off the bed and went to his battered leather weekender.

I followed him, clutching the sheet against me. I snagged my bra hanging off the footboard of the bed. How did that end up there?

He pulled out a fresh pair of boxers for himself and tugged them on. Which I was grateful for since I didn’t seem to have any impulse control when it came to this man and his dick.

“Not sure this will go with your snazzy pants, but…” He held up a well-worn fisherman’s sweater.

“No. You’re going to let me wear that?” I snatched it out of his hand. “Is this…” I brought up the material to my cheek. It was destined to make me itchy, but it also happened to be the most perfect gray I’d ever seen in my life. I’d always wanted one of the famous sweaters from Ireland. They were so out of my price range.

He tossed me a white shirt. “You’ll probably need that under it.”

I almost hated to do it since I’d probably only get to wear the sweater for a few hours, but it was pretty scratchy. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “You can probably wear it like a dress.”

I laughed. “Almost.” I rushed over to him and went onto my toes to brush a kiss along his cheek. “I love it.”

He scrubbed his hands into his hair again, ruddy color climbing his neck. “No big deal.”