It craves attention from only him.
All the things it shouldn’t be feeling, and tonight’s cemented that.
I don’t want him looking at anyone else.
I don’t want him touching anyone else.
I don’t know how to hide my feelings.
Lying here with him, his body pressing against mine with his cock rock hard and grinding on my hip means one thing, and I know I don’t have the strength to fight it. I want him buried inside me, thrusting hard and owning every inch of my body.
“You’re not supposed to have sex before a game,” I remind him.
“That’s an old wives’ tale.”
“Somehow I don’t think old wives were screwing soccer players. I’m sure there’s a medical explanation as to why you shouldn’t shoot your load into my vagina.”
He pauses, withdrawing his kisses and raising his head. “How about I shoot my load into your mouth?”
I smack his chest, laughing simultaneously but quickly becoming distracted by his hand sliding beneath my shirt, squeezing my breast. “No shooting of your load, anywhere.”
“Damn.” He nibbles on the sensitive spot of my lobe. “There’s several places I’d love to shoot my load.”
I’m unable to hide my grin, grateful for the darkness that lays between us. “Like where?”
I can hear the smile in his voice. The cocky bastard knows he has the upper hand right now.
“Let’s see…” he keeps his head positioned near the base of my ear, trailing his finger a
long my chest, “… here.”
Keeping a straight face is hard, holding back the giggles even harder. “Yeah, I guess so. If you like the whole pearl-necklace thing.”
“Hmm...” He traces my collarbone then switches in the opposite direction, moving south until he stops on my thigh. “How about here?”
“For a soccer player, you have a shitty sense of direction. Maybe go northwest.”
His teeth graze on my lobe, biting down with slight pain that pleasures me. The tip of his finger trails north, just like I directed him, then moves west and in between my thighs until it brushes with my clit. Then with a sudden thrust, it enters me causing my back to arch. I hold in the moan, biting down on my lip tasting blood.
“Sshh,” he commands. “I haven’t finished.”
I weave my fingers through his hair, bringing his face to mine. “I don’t know what else you could possibly show me. And I just bit my own lip to keep quiet so maybe we need to go to sleep now.”
His lips crash onto mine, sucking on my lip where I tasted my own blood. My body feels at a loss when he removes his finger from me, bringing it up to make me taste myself on his finger. I suck and a growl erupts from his chest that’s barely contained in this quiet room.
“So, now I own all of you. I’ve even tasted your blood.”
“If someone heard that, it could be taken the wrong way.”
“Because vampires exist?”
“If they do, I’d sell my left kidney to screw Edward Cullen.”
He lifts his body, and through the moonlight that barely peeks its way through the drapes, I can see his expressed has changed.
Does he know how unbelievably sexy he is? Especially when he plays the brooding lover.
“Why am I jealous of you wanting to screw a fictional vampire?”