Beauty and the Baller

“Damn, you’re cute. I should call him up and tell him.”

“You know him?”

“Hmm. I know lots of famous people. He follows me on Insta.”

“Pompous ass.”

I smile. “Have you ever wondered why we keep meeting in closets?”

“Technically, this is a lavish pantry.”

“Feels the same. Just me and you, and the whole world is out there. Like we’re alone,” I murmur and trace my fingers over her shoulders.

“Technically, we are.”

“Smart-ass.”

She smiles. “Thanks.”

“Tell me another secret. I insist.”

Her fingers trail down my forearm to my hand, light teasing touches over my fingers but not quite taking my hands. Tingles ripple over me.

“Okay, here’s one: I’m kind of disappointed in you,” she murmurs.

“Why?”

Her fingers dance back up my chest, then toy with the neck of my tank top. “You asked for a boon, and all you want is a silly secret.”

“I want to know you.”

“Hmm, but knowing me is a dangerous thing, isn’t it?”

I pause, seeing that serious glint in her eyes. “Yes.” I stare at her lips. “What should I ask for, then?”

She moves her body and settles herself gently in my lap.

I groan, long and guttural.

With her hands on my shoulders, she swivels her luscious ass over the bulge in my joggers. “If I were you, I would have asked for a kiss . . . or something else . . .”

My breath hisses out. “Jesus . . .”

She puts her fingers on my lips, her voice husky. “Think hard, Ronan. What does the man in you want?”

I arch my cock up to grind against her center, the heat of her making me dizzy. “I want to fuck you.”

A shaky breath comes from her lips. “How do we begin? Tell me.”

My lids lower as I wrap my arms around her waist, my hands tracing under her shirt to tease the skin around her ribs. Fuck. So soft. “Take your top off.”

Her blue eyes dilate as she pulls the Pythons shirt up from the hem and over her head. Her hair cascades around her slim shoulders. She’s wearing a black lace bra, the tops of her breasts creamy as her chest heaves.

“Goddamn, you’re sexy,” I groan.

“What else?”

“The bra. Remove it.”

She reaches behind her, unsnaps the clasp, and then eases it off, tossing it over her shoulder. “Sorry, but you can’t wear this one.”

I growl, and she tosses her head back and laughs, joy radiating from her.

My heart stutters in my chest. She’s magnificent. Proud and uninhibited.

I drape my eyes over her tits, the red nipples that stand erect, as if aching for me to touch them. I don’t. Not yet. This is her game, and I’m playing it.

“Take your shorts off. And the underwear,” I demand.

She stands up and toys with the waistband of the shorts, a smile curling her lips. “You sure? Once these come off—”

“Take the motherfucking clothes off.”

She eases them down to her ankles. With deft fingers, she separates her thong from the shorts and twirls it around. “Off.”

My hand pushes down on my dick at the sight of her. The lights are bright and show every perfect curve of her body, the line of her throat, the fullness of her curves, the flat stomach, the arch of her hips, the pussy between her legs.

“What now?” she asks, watching me with heavy eyes.

“Spread your legs, and stand over me. Put your hands on the wall behind me.”

She steps over, with her feet on either side of my legs. Her palms slap the wall. I shove my joggers and underwear down to my knees, and she gasps, her lashes fluttering.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me as I finger fuck you,” I say, arching my neck up to stare at her, my tone guttural. I pump my cock as my other hand brushes over her pussy. She swivels her hips as I tease over her outer folds, then delve into her center, my fingers coming out drenched. I stick them in my mouth and lick them slowly. “Better than vanilla wafers, babe.”

In this position, I can see everything—her swollen clit, her wet entrance, which is grasping for more of me. I touch her with both hands, spreading her gently, then stroke inside to her dampness with one finger, then two. I spin her clit with my thumb, my gaze searching her face. I want her to come hard. I want to watch her fall apart.

Goose bumps rise on her legs as she rides my hand. Her pants and moans fill up the room as I pump in and out of her, looking for that sensitive knot on her upper walls. Finding it, I stroke the area softly, satisfaction rippling over me when she clenches around my fingers, spasming.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” I purr as I adjust her position, my hand on her ass as I tug her down. Scooting down, I lie on the floor, and she follows, placing her knees on either side of my head.