I keep pumping into her, loving the feel of the cool water lapping against my back as her hot pussy clenches around my dick again and again and again. Nothing has ever felt this good.
My head is spinning, my muscles clenching, that spot at the base of my spine telling me I’m close, so fucking close. The only thing keeping me in check is a desperate need to make her come again—to know that, at least in this, she’s feeling the same things that I am.
I slide a hand between us, move it over the gentle swells of her breasts and down the flat plane of her stomach. I move lower still, until I’m touching where we’re joined, stroking the lips of her sex with my fingers even as I brush my thumb over and around her clit in a continuous motion that has her screaming my name. This time I don’t even try to stop her.
Instead, I just hang on for the ride as she rips her mouth from mine, kissing and sucking her way across my jaw and down my throat with a desperation I know is going to leave bruises in the morning. Which I am so totally okay with.
“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” I tell her as I slam into her again and again, taking her higher. Taking myself higher. Scaling walls with my body that, so far, she won’t let me scale any other way. “I need you so bad. I need—”
I break off as her teeth sink into the muscle at the top of my good shoulder, and it’s my turn to go off, my body slipping the tight leash of control I’ve kept on it and erupting in an orgasm so powerful that I feel it in every nerve ending in my body.
My release triggers hers, and then she’s coming, too, calling out my name as her pussy clenches around my dick in a rhythm that empties me out even as it makes my eyes cross and my heart stop.
When it’s over, when I can think and breathe and—finally—move again, I lift her gingerly onto the side of the pool. I swing myself out, and gather her into my arms before heading back through the foliage to my townhouse. I leave our clothes by the side of the pool, not wanting to let go of her for a second. From the way she wraps her arms around my neck and burrows into my chest, I figure she feels exactly the same way.
Chapter 18
Sage
“I am so screwed.” It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to bang my head over and over again on the edge of the table at my favorite coffeehouse. “I can’t believe I was this stupid, can’t believe—”
“Stop being so dramatic,” Emerson tells me with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t you know by now that’s my job? You’re fine. Everything will be fine.”
“Fine?” I stare at her incredulously. “Tell me, please, how things will ever be fine again. I’m stuck managing a yoga studio I have absolutely no interest in, my mother just gave her life savings to some dude running an ashram on the other side of the world and, worst of all, I’m stupid enough to be falling for a total baller—”
“?‘A total baller’?” My BFF chokes on her coffee.
“Excuse me.” I narrow my eyes at her in warning. “A professional football player. Is that better?”
“So much better,” she says as she wipes up the sip of coffee she just spewed halfway across the table. “And can I ask that you never use the term ‘baller’ again? Hearing that word come out of your mouth just blew my mind wide open.”
“I don’t know why. Shawn’s a total—”
“Don’t say it!” She holds a hand up. “I really don’t think that term means what you think it does.”
“I know exactly what it means.” It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Is man-whore who plays football a more acceptable term? Because that’s what Shawn is. And he’s not just your run-of-the-mill man-whore, either. He’s like the most whorish of the man-whores. The king of the man-whores. The—”
“Okay, I get it. He fucks around. Almost all of them do. But you also need to remember that only about one-fourth of what gets published about these guys is actually true.”
“If one-fourth of what’s been published about Shawn is actually true than it’s even worse than I thought.” I channel my mother for a minute and drape myself very dramatically across my half of the table. “I mean, it’s not like I didn’t go into this with my eyes wide open. He fucked me in the back of the bar the first night we met.”
“Which was totally out of character for you—”
“Totally.”
She takes another sip of her coffee, watches me over the rim of her cup. “Have you ever thought that maybe it was out of character for him, too?”
I just look at her, eyebrows raised. “I remember what you and Hunter did that time you were house hunting. Are you trying to tell me it’s out of character for any of these guys?”
I watch as Emerson’s cheeks turn bright red. One of the joys of having a redhead as a best friend—right next to watching the towering temper erupt at various unexpected moments—is how easy it is to make her blush. “Those were extenuating circumstances!”
“Of course they were. Just like the parking lot and the beach and the—”
“Okay, I get your point. But I think you’re missing the fact that all the sex that Hunter’s been having in unusual places has been with me. He might have been a total baller”—she grins as she uses the word—“at one time, but now he’s a totally devoted guy. That has to count for something when you think about Shawn.”
“Yeah, well, that’s Hunter. Shawn’s a total adrenaline junkie. He’ll never be satisfied with just me. The most excitement I’ve got in my life is when I actually manage to balance my mother’s books.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you’re selling yourself and Shawn short?” She puts her coffee down and reaches for my hand. “And that maybe you should talk to him about all these things you’re feeling?”