I lie on my back, pulling her on top of me in one swift movement.
“Condom,” I say, gripping her thighs. I can’t believe I nearly forgot. She leans forward and grabs one out of my side table before holding it out for me. I don’t take it.
“Put it on me.” She bites her lip and does as I say, tearing it open and then rolling it onto my cock that’s still glistening from her mouth.
“Now, put me inside you,” I instruct. There’s no hesitation. She leans forward and reaches behind her, placing me at her entrance. She brings her hands on either side of my head before lowering herself onto me.
“Oh my God.” She closes her eyes and throws her head back, circling her hips while I’m buried inside her. I unbutton her shirt, leaving it hanging off her, and pull her heavy breasts out of her black bra. I see a glimpse of her tattoo that I nearly forgot about before I lean forward, taking her nipple into my mouth and sucking. Hard. Her slow circles turn into rocking, and then she’s riding me rough and fast. She isn’t putting on a show. She isn’t screaming like a porn star. Her movements are uncoordinated and frantic, but she couldn’t care less. She’s taking her pleasure, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. She sits up, and the new angle has us both groaning.
“I feel so full. It’s so deep.”
“Lean back,” I tell her gruffly. She does, ripping off her shirt and bra before resting her hands on my knees. I reach forward to rub on her clit with my thumb, trying desperately to resist the urge to come.
“Please don’t stop,” she begs, her eyes pinched shut. She grabs my wrist and holds the heel of my palm where she needs it.
“Come, baby. Come all over me,” I grind out. I lift my hips, forcing myself impossibly deep, and I feel her pussy contract around me. She ceases her movements, so I sit up, wrap my arm around her lower back, and fuck her hard through her orgasm.
“I feel you coming, Remi. You’re squeezing me so tight.”
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” she chants like a prayer. And I don’t want to ever stop. I’ll never get enough. Her mouth drops open in a silent scream, and I snake my tongue insi
de. The kiss is sloppy and desperate, and when she sucks on my tongue, I can’t hold back. I grip her waist hard, holding her in place while I shove myself as deep as I can, coming like a geyser.
Remington drops her forehead to my shoulder, lazily rocking her hips as we both come down. I kiss her temple, tracing my fingertips up and down her spine.
“How’d I do, Mr. James?” she mumbles into my neck, and I chuckle.
“A+. Your best work to date, Miss Stringer.” I lift her off me and lay her down before covering her with my comforter.
“Good to know.” She yawns. “I should go to sleep. I have school in the morning, and my teacher is kind of a dick.”
I laugh as I walk to the master bathroom to take care of the condom and clean myself up. By the time I’m out, Remington is curled up on her side, one hand under her cheek, and her lips parted ever so slightly. Quietly, I pad over to her and graze her flushed cheek with my knuckle. “What are you doing to me?” I muse aloud. I try to make sense of the overwhelming and foreign feelings that slam into me, but they all hit me at once, making it hard to grasp on to anything, save for one thing. Mine.
I take one last look at her before throwing my slacks back on and grabbing my keys. I know what I have to do.
When I was in law school, my lecturer showed up at my doorstep inside the dorms one day, unannounced. I remember clasping the door as he stood on the threshold, a seventy-something-year-old man with wafer-thin white hair and too many wrinkles to distinguish his facial features, and said, “You need to change courses.”
“What?” I asked, laughing. I come from a family of lawyers, and this was the point where I still wanted to make my father proud. Or at least, the thought of disappointing my parents made me feel slightly uncomfortable. “Why would you say that?”
“You can’t be a lawyer.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re no better than a thug.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I see you, Mr. James. I watch you all the time, and when you don’t like something, you snap. You don’t have the self-control to become a lawyer. You’re a hothead. You don’t have the patience for it either. You’d make a horrible chess player.”
“Thank you,” I said, shutting the door in his face. I graduated with honors, but he was right.
I am hotheaded.
I can be ruthless.
Especially when something of mine is in danger.
Ryan is about to learn that we have something in common the hard way.