Nixon (Raleigh Raptors 1)

“You,” I said, half-moan, half-plea. “I need you,” I said, and I shifted above him until he’d drawn his hand back. I reached for his zipper, unfastening it quickly. I sighed as I gripped his hard length in my hand, and Nixon growled, his dark eyes widening at my demands.

“You sure?” he asked, his breath ragged as I fisted him. “The party—”

“I don’t care if you don’t,” I said and guided his hard cock to the center of me, teasing his head with my wetness.

Flames danced in his eyes, those dark depths churning with want. I didn’t care that I could still hear the faint sounds of the string quartet playing for the gala behind us. I didn’t care that someone could wander the same path we had in search of a moment of seclusion. I didn’t care about anything in that moment but the need for this man—this exquisite, incredibly kind and strong man who’d turned my world upside down in the most perfect way.

“Liberty,” he practically growled as I shifted atop him. “Fuck, Liberty,” he hissed as I sank on top of his gloriously hard length in one slick motion. His fingers gently dug into my hips, the bite sending jolts of electricity along each of my nerves.

I took him to the hilt only to lift up and sink down and do it all over again. I kept one hand fisted in his hair, the other braced on his broad shoulder for support. Nixon leaned his head back, his eyes guttering.

“I love watching you fuck me,” he said, his grip tightening as I rocked against him, chasing our pleasure with each roll of my hips. “God, Liberty, you’re fucking amazing.” He thrust up as I slammed home and everything in my body coiled like a spring.

“Nixon,” I moaned, trying like hell to not cry out as that spiraling heat pushed me closer and closer to that sweet edge.

“Come with me,” he demanded, his tone absolutely primal as he flicked his tongue over the seam of my lips. I lifted and sank, and he met me move for move until I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe around the feel of him, around the flames licking my skin, the heat pulsing in my body. “That’s it,” he said, feeling me clench tighter around him.

His fingers bit into my hips, a sweet burst of pain through the pleasure as he thrust upward, and I splintered into a million pieces. He found his own release as my body flew apart around him, and he covered my mouth with his own, drinking the cries that would’ve no doubt reached the party occurring not far away. Devouring me through the aftershocks of the orgasm, working me down in gentle strokes and soft sweeps of his tongue until all I could do was rest my forehead against his and breathe him in.

Slowly, the world returned around us.

The sound of the violin filtering through the air.

Undistinguishable conversations and clinks of glasses.

And Nixon, grinning up at me like he’d be happy to sit here forever.

But I knew we couldn’t do that, not with friends and teammates and coaches and a governor waiting for us back in reality. So, I lifted off of him and slid my lace back into place, standing to adjust my dress. He quickly fixed himself, zipping up his pants, and standing to tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“Do I look okay?” I asked as we made our way back toward the party.

“You’re perfect,” he said.

We’d barely made it two steps back into the main gardens when Coach Goodman stopped us with a clap on Nixon’s back. “Wonderful event,” he said. “Don’t you think?” he asked, indicating the party that was in full swing before us.

Nixon spared me a mischievous look before returning his focus to his coach. “I can honestly say I’ve never enjoyed a charity event more than this one.”

My knees damn near wobbled at the words, and I suddenly found myself eager for the party to end, and for our night at home to begin.

13

Nixon

“Right this way.” The maître d gave us a professional smile, then led us through the swanky Los Angeles restaurant.

I brushed my thumb over the zipper of Liberty’s red dress, keeping my hand on the small of her back. It had only been five days since we’d decided to be exclusive, which seemed ridiculous since everything just…clicked with us. She already lived with me and had been sleeping in my bed for a few weeks, but she hadn’t moved her stuff out of the guest room closet yet.

Damn, she looked good in this dress. It was short, clung to her curves, and had made me drool the second she put it on. We wouldn’t have made it to dinner on time if everyone else hadn’t been expecting us. Hell, we wouldn’t have made it at all. She’d hit the halfway mark in her pregnancy yesterday, and she’d never looked better. There was a radiance in her smile, a glow to her skin, and her curves were lush and so damn grabbable. I moved my hand up her back just to make sure I didn’t slip it down to her ass while we were in public.