Down & Dirty (Lightning 1)

“Go with you?” she repeats, and for the first time she looks as stunned as I’ve felt since she snapped that hundred dollar bill out of my hand and turned me head over fucking heels. “To a party hosted by the entire San Diego Lightning organization?”

“You’re squeaking. And turning red. Why are you squeaking and turning red?”

“Because Lightning. Tanner Green. Cameron Smith. Shawn Wilson!” She says Shawn’s name like he’s a god or something. Which he pretty much is, especially when it comes to yards rushed. But still…“You are aware that I’m Hunter Browning, right? Top quarterback in the league? Superbowl MVP—”

“Two years running, Heisman trophy winner, record holder for pass completion, yadda yadda yadda. I know exactly who you are. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “My panties are not twisted. In fact, I’m not even wearing panties, thank you very much.”

“Well, isn’t that a funny coincidence,” she says, eyes lowered and voice all sultry. “Neither am I.”

And just like that, the temperature in the car shoots up ten degrees. “I am aware of that,” I say, sliding the panties in question out of my front pocket and twirling them around on my finger. “I very much enjoyed taking them off you, in fact.”

“Look at that. Another coincidence.” She slides her hand up my thigh. “So did I. Very much.”

All the blood in my head rushes about three feet south. She notices—of course she does—and her hand slips higher, until she’s lightly stroking my rock-hard cock through the denim of my jeans.

My hips snap up involuntarily, searching for more friction. More pressure. Something. But she just laughs and keeps her touch light. Teasing me. Tormenting me, until all I can think about is making her come. Making her scream.

It’s that thought that has me reaching for her. I slide my chair back at the same time, so that when I pull her onto my lap it’s cramped but not impossible. I grab her thighs, one in each hand, and push them open until she’s straddling me, her bare pussy settling down right over the hard ridge of my cock.

There’s a part of me that wants nothing more than to unzip my jeans and slide right up and into her. But I want the first time I’m inside her to be about more than a quickie on my way home. So I settle for slipping a hand under her skirt and up her thigh.

She gasps as I slide a little deeper, my fingers stroking along her slit. She’s wet already, wet and hot and so damn inviting I want nothing more than to bend my head and lick all her sweetness up. But our quarters are too tight for that, so I settle on pressing two fingers inside of her even as I rest my thumb against her clit and start to stroke.

Emerson begins moving then, rocking her hips against my hand as she struggles to take me deeper. I give her what she wants, sliding my fingers as deep inside her as I can, then crook them a little so they hit the spot inside of her that lights her up like the Super Bowl.

She moans then, leans forward like she wants to kiss me. But I don’t let her take even that much control. Instead, I thrust a hand into all those wild curls of hers and grab on tight. Then I tug her head back, just enough that she feels the prick on her scalp. Just enough that she realizes how utterly and completely at my mercy she is.

There’s a part of me that wants to kiss her, that wants to shove my tongue into her mouth for no other reason than to get another of my body parts inside of her any way that I can. But if I do that, I lose the view and I’m so not ready for that to happen yet.

She looks so beautiful, so goddamn beautiful and vulnerable and mine when she’s splayed on my lap like this.

Skirt around her hips.

Blouse strained over her tight nipples and swollen breasts.

Lips moist and open and gasping for breath.

Head pulled back to reveal the vulnerable curve of her throat.

Back arched.

Hair a wildfire spilling over my hand, my arm, her shoulders.

Eyes wide and locked to mine.

So goddamn beautiful.

“Hunter,” she whispers, and it’s a plea. More, it’s a demand, one I have no intention of ignoring.

“I’ve got you, baby,” I say as I scissor my fingers inside of her. Her eyes go dark and fuzzy at the movement, her hips straining forward. And that’s when I feel it, her pussy tightening around my fingers as she gets closer and closer to the edge. It feels so good that my own dick throbs in time to the mini-contractions.

My voice is a growl as I order, “Let go, Emerson,” at the same time I tap my thumb sharply against her clit.

And she does, with a loud cry as her body flies over the edge. I work her through the orgasm, grinding the heel of my hand against her clit as I thrust my fingers inside of her again and again. She’s almost sobbing now, her breath coming in strangled fits and starts that cause her whole body to shake.

Then, just as she’s coming down, I do it again, slamming my fingers inside her as I pinch her clit between my thumb and pinkie finger. She does scream then, another orgasm slamming through her fast and hard.