The Guy on the Right (The Underdogs 1)

“Move,” I urge, locking my legs around him. Rearing back, he presses in harder, and we both cry out to the other.

I bite into his shoulder just as he grunts out, “Jesus, Laney.”

He eases out and back in, as I stretch around him until he’s fully seated. And then we’re moving, I meet his thrusts, our skin slapping while we exchange hungry kisses and moans. Our mouths seal together as the hunger catches up with the both of us. Chests colliding, we combust into a fit of need. Grappling with the unbelievable feel of him, I can’t control my breaths, my moans, I can’t control anything, so I let go and feel everything.

“I can’t,” he pants into my mouth, “hold off.”

“Come,” I urge him as we collide over and over until we can no longer take, but give in.

He comes long and loud, his features pulling, his mouth beautifully parted, eyes filled with wonder before he collapses on top of me.

Legs wrapped around him, I pluck at his hair with one hand and rub the expanse of his back with the other. I’ve never felt so close to anyone as I do in this moment.

“That was perfect,” I murmur. “But you already know that. We get an A plus for chemistry, Houseman.”

I can feel his smile against my chest. “Am I crushing you?” He asks, trying to move off me. I lock him to me with my legs. “Stay.”

Content, I feel his every exhale, the slow of his shake, his pounding heart, and the fuzzy warmth spreading through my limbs. We lie there breathless and sated for a few minutes before I speak up.

“What an idiot,” I murmur into his hair.

“Who?”

“Nora. She’s the dumbest woman on Earth and thank the Lort for that.”

He pulls away chuckling despite my protest and stares down at me. “It wouldn’t have been this good with her.”

“No?” I ask with a smile as he gazes down at me with surety.

“No, that was all us,” he says, covering me with warm hands in both caress and worship. “So soft,” he says before pressing a kiss between my breasts.

A melody fills the room as I stroke his skin, and the pads of his fingers brush along the sides of my body.

“I like this song. What is it?”

“John Lennon. ‘Oh My Love.’”

We sink into the lull as he gently strokes every part of me with explorative fingers.

“It’s pretty.”

“It is. These are Yoko days.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Most people think she was the anti-Christ, but you know the song, “Imagine” that he’s most remembered for?”

“Yeah, I know it.”

“Well, he got the idea for it from one of her poetry books.”

“Really?”

“Yep. She inspired him. No one really understood them, but it didn’t matter, and they didn’t give a shit either, because they understood each other.”

“Kind of like us.”

He lifts his head along with the side of his mouth. “Yeah, a little like us.” He leans in pressing a kiss to my lips. “I’m going to clean up.” I mourn the temporary loss of his weight, but admire his naked ass as he walks to his bathroom. I hear the telltale sign of the disposal of the condom and water run before he slips back in bed and pulls me to him, so my leg is hooked across his stomach. My head rests on his chest as he pushes the hair away from my face with lazy fingers. He stares down at me wordless, and I tilt my head to look up at him.