The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood 2)

He swiped the tip of his tongue over me again and chuckled wickedly when my legs trembled as he passed over my clit. Blood rushed through me, hotter than lava, and I struggled to catch my breath.

While he licked and teased, his fingers continued to pump, and goosebumps burst down my calves. I’d had to give up my hold on him when he’d started going down on me, so now I clutched at the couch, fisting whatever part of the upholstery I could latch on to.

“I could eat this pussy all day,” he said.

The room tumbled as his tongue swirled, and it spun faster still when he pulled his mouth away and used his fingers to rub. He’d had his arm under my thigh and a hand on my stomach, but he trailed it down so his first two fingers could manipulate the swollen nub of flesh that gave me the most pleasure.

My moans filled the room, overpowering the sounds of enjoyment he made. He liked watching what he was doing to me. His lips were parted, and his eyes were magnetic.

Back and forth his fingers rolled, filling me with a powerful, urgent need. He was absolutely going to make me come again. The only question now was when, and my body wanted the answer to be, “right fucking now.”

He adjusted the angle of his thrusts, sliding deeper.

“Oh,” I breathed, “right there.”

He moved faster, sliding his fingers so quickly we could both hear the sound they made against my wet skin. If I wasn’t so frantic, I might have blushed, but there wasn’t room to think about this sound as anything other than sexy.

I pinched my eyes closed and savored his possession. He was young and gorgeous—he could probably get any girl he wanted. What on earth was he doing with me?

It was unavoidable, the way my body began to writhe, as I approached my orgasm, but luckily his hands moved in sync with me. Troy’s thick fingers plunged and retreated while he rubbed me viciously with the ones from his other hand, causing sparks to fire behind my eyelids.

“Oh, my God,” I cried in warning, but it only made him ratchet up the intensity. Tremors skirted up my legs as the storm of ecstasy took me over.

“Fuck yeah,” he groaned. “Come all over my fingers.”

His dirty talk was shockingly sexy, and it poured gasoline on the fire of my orgasm. Bliss exploded, forcing me to buck, but once again he moved with me, keeping his fingers lodged inside. It prolonged my climax, making wave after wave crash into me and causing my nails to drive into my palms.

I floated in a daze, unable to do anything but breathe while the pleasure began to recede. As I recovered, Troy straightened and set his warm hands on the tops of my thighs, gently squeezing as if wanting to remind me of his presence. To be connected to me throughout the experience.

My heart was still hammering in my chest as I propped myself up on my elbows and peered at him. I couldn’t imagine what I looked like, although my face had to be flushed. The robe around my shoulders was a cloak of fire, making me sweat even more than I’d been before. Surely my hair was a mess. I could feel it plastered to the back of my neck.

Yet, he blinked seductively as his gaze drifted up over my naked skin, and he stared back at me like I was flawless. The hunger was back in his eyes and his body. His erection was nearly as hard as it’d been when I was on the counter.

His tone was flirtatious. “Do you have a condom I could use?”

If I wasn’t already out of breath, that would have done it. “Yeah,” I said. “In the drawer of my nightstand.” I collapsed back on the couch. “Give me a minute and I’ll be able to walk again. My legs are still shaking.”

Troy chuckled proudly, leaned over, and dropped a kiss on my lips. “I’ll be right back.”

There wasn’t time to stop him, even if I’d wanted to. He was up on his feet instantly and disappeared into my bedroom, leaving me to recover while I was strewn across the couch cushions. He’d gone with such urgency; he’d practically bounded from the room.

There was a pang in my heart. He was eager to have sex with me. Lord, I’d spent so much of my life with someone who didn’t initiate and certainly never was excited for intimacy. All those years with one man, while another was right there, secretly wanting and willing to give me exactly what I craved.

The sound of the drawer sliding open came through the doorway, followed by rustling and the tearing of perforated foil. But then it went silent and still.