Halftime Husband (Sassy in the City 5)

“It is Valentine’s Day,” I said. “From my heart to yours.”

I meant it as a joke, and fortunately, she got that. A beat too late I realized that could have been misconstrued, but Dakota laughed. “I can honestly say this beats any stupid gift I’ve ever received on Valentine’s Day.”

“Then I’d better make it count.” I loved teasing at her slit, tasting her sweet tangy desire. I gripped her thighs and took my fill, enjoying her shudders and increasingly urgent moans. At some point, her fingers found their way into my hair and she was holding on like she would levitate without the grounding.

It was hot. It was delicious. It was making me hard as a rock.

When she came, I had to say I took some serious pride in the loud cry that ripped from her lips, and the way she almost tore every hair out of my head at the roots. Once she was relaxed again against the mattress, I rose up and ran my eyes over her, wanting to commit this to memory.

“Put your feet on my shoulders,” I urged. She wanted it deep? So did I. I’d give her deep.

Then I remembered she’d actually said hard, not deep. Well, next time I’d give her hard, because she was already complying. With ease. Because she was a dancer. With long legs and amazing flexibility. I swore under my breath.

“Oh, hello,” she said, when I entered her again. “It’s nice to meet you.”

That made me want to laugh but I was too busy concentrating on not coming inside her too soon. Deep it was. Balls deep. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Being with Dakota was entertaining and explosive all at once.

I had no idea how much time passed, but it felt like I had just moved in. Like I’d been there forever and was staying. I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the feel of her body, of her heat wrapped around my cock. She took it as deep as I could give it and maybe it was hours, maybe it was minutes, she was gripping my waist and coming again.

What was this magic carriage rescue man was creating? I felt like I’d fallen down the rabbit hole of sex. It just never stopped. His cock kept coming at me and I kept coming. I felt like an overcooked noodle and yet I still wanted more.

“I need a minute,” Brandon said, falling off of me for the third time.

He kept saying that and he kept coming back stronger than before. How old was he? And how was he even doing that? It was sexual voodoo.

“I need some water.” I pushed my hair back off my forehead. I was embarrassingly sweaty. I needed water and a shower and handcuffs to keep him with me for eternity. The world didn’t exist right now and that was amazing. It was just him, me, and a whole lot of orgasms.

Crawling to the foot of my bed, I stepped onto the floor. I nearly killed myself when I stepped on one of my discarded heels with my jiggly legs but I grabbed the wall and saved myself from a fall.

“You okay?” he asked, starting to sit up to help me.

“I’m good.” I kicked the heels toward my couch. I wasn’t drunk, yet I felt lightheaded from all the heavy breathing. I pulled out a glass from the kitchen cabinet and filled it with water. “Do you want water?”

“Yes. And Chinese food.”

That made me laugh. I drained the glass, then refilled it. I took it to him. I wasn’t dirtying another glass. He could share mine. He’d literally put his tongue on every inch of my body at this point. I handed him the glass.

He did the same thing I did. Just chugged until it was gone. “I’m serious. I’m starving. Unless you want me to head out now.”

I had no idea what time it was, nor did I particularly care. I wanted him to stay. I felt wrung dry but I was wide awake. If he left, I would be staring at the ceiling for three hours, contemplating what the hell had just happened.

“Chinese would be good,” I said lightly. I sat on the bed next to him while I pulled up a food app. “What do you want?”

He shifted in beside me and read the screen over my shoulder, occasionally kissing my neck or behind my ear. At one point he dipped his tongue inside my ear and I giggled. “Stop. Wait until after we’ve ordered.”

“Fine. Can you get more wine delivered too or is it too late?”

“If you can’t get wine in New York City at one in the morning, something is wrong with the universe.”

Brandon pointed to about six things on the food menu he wanted, and once I had an absurd amount of Chinese ordered and three bottles of wine due to arrive in twenty minutes, I was leaning forward to set my phone on the floor, when he pulled me back onto the mattress.

“Ah! Let me put my phone down.”

“No. I can’t wait. I want you. Just hold on to it for a second.” He turned me around. “Get on your knees.”

Without a second thought, I complied, pressing my phone to the mattress below the palm of my hand. When he thrust inside me I shuddered and gripped my phone, like somehow that would hold me up. Brandon’s hand shifted my legs further apart.