Block Shot (Hoops 2)

“I like this done a very particular way,” I say, striving not to sound breathless. “Do you need direction?”

“You tell me,” Banner says, before taking my cock nearly to the back of her throat.

I grit my teeth and fist the tablecloth, determined not to moan.

“You’re doing just fine,” I choke out.

“Mmmm,” she hums, the vibration traveling from my dick to my toes. She drags me over her lips until only the tip is still in and then licks me like that vodka popsicle. Thoroughly, greedily, like I’m worth a billion points and she can’t get them down fast enough. I slam my hand on the table, disrupting the glass and china. Banner’s laugh is steamy around me, and I almost lose it.

“Excuse me, sir?”

You have got to be kidding me.

“Uh, yeah.” I compose myself enough to answer the server with some semblance of coherence as Banner rolls my balls in her hand.

“Dessert?” he asks.

Shit, I’m gonna come. I’m pretty sure my eyes are rolling in the back of my head.

“What?” I manage. “Huh?”

“Would you like dessert?” he repeats, casting a curious glance toward Banner’s empty seat. “Or would the lady like something?”

“I don’t know that I . . .” I spread my legs more and slide down, pushing another inch into her mouth “. . . saved room for anything else.”

“The lady?” he asks again.

“She-she . . .” God, she excels at this. “Um, went to the bathroom.”

At that very moment, Banner’s enthusiastic bobbing below bangs her head on the table.

The glasses and plates lift and clang. The server’s eyes widen and he clears his throat.

“Dude, double tip if you get the hell outta here,” I rasp, on the verge of spilling my life down Banner’s throat.

Without a word and with guaranteed discretion, he quickly leaves the terrace.

With him gone, I slide the table back enough to see Banner’s pouty lips spread around my cock. An image to store away for future fantasies. I tangle my fingers in her hair, urging her to take more and faster. My other hand slips into the strapless dress to twist her nipple. Her breath stutters, disrupting the steady pace of her mouth on me, and I decide those are not the lips I want to see on my dick. I tug her hair until she has to release me. The look she sends up is leaded with passion, free of strictures and ready to give me whatever I want.

“Get up here,” I command, only getting harder when she immediately raises from her knees to stand. I venture under her dress, finding her panties and working them down her legs. Our eyes never let go as the silk descends, and as soon as they ring her ankles, she steps out and positions herself over me. Her thighs rest on mine, and the bright orange dress bunches at her waist. She leans in to kiss me, her mouth an open invitation, but pulls away just enough to make me chase her. My mouth strains to recapture hers. Husky laughter wafts over my lips with the Caribbean breeze while she reaches between us and guides me inside.

This must be how it feels to enter a temple. With eager devotion. With reverence. With the first thrust up into her body, the tenuous hold on my control snaps. I grip her hips, and the silk of her dress flows over the backs of my hands with our every undulation. She hooks one arm around my neck, and the other arm hangs limply at her side while she rides me with abandon, head flung back, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and the only sounds on the terrace our ragged breaths and grunts permeating the balmy air.

I can’t take my eyes off her. Something inside irrationally taunts me that if I look away, she’ll disappear. She’s a storm I can’t find the eye of. I need to hold her tightly, assure myself she won’t get away—that she doesn’t want to get away. Even with my arms locked at her waist, I can’t contain her. I try to grasp her in parts, but her breast overflows my palm. Her ass spills past my hands. Everything is ripe. Everything is full, except my way in. My passage into her body is narrow and tight, allowing me only so much, but I take that path over and over, like a battering ram at a castle door, hell-bent on reaching the queen inside.

It’s still not enough. Even with our bodies locked and grinding like gears, working each other into a frenzy, there’s a gap, a space where doubt creeps in. Hunger for something deeper than physical possession gnaws at my gut. I thought this would satisfy me. It always has before, but I know instinctively that finishing now, I’d only want her again, still hunting for another entrance, for a way in deeper.

“Wait,” I pant, and as much as it pains my cock, I clench my hands at her hips and stop the roll of our bodies together.

“What’s wrong?” Banner’s breath labors, her chest heaving, the bodice of her dress half-up, half-down, covering one breast and exposing the other.

I lift the dress more, ruched at her waist, exposing us to the cool air christening the place where our bodies join. “Look at us.”

Confusion sketches a tiny furrow between her brows until she looks down and sees what I see, me disappearing inside of her. Her body absorbing mine. I coax her hips into a gentle wave, and we watch the slick slide in and out, see her wetness, her juices coating my dick with each withdrawal. These are the pretty lips I wanted wrapped around my cock tonight. With one hand between her breasts, hoisting the skirt high, and one hand at her neck, I press my forehead to hers.

“You see yourself on me?” I ask. “You see how you take me in? How that greedy little pussy eats my dick?”

She nods against my forehead, her breath stuttering.