The Guy in the Middle (The Underdogs 3)

I bite mine for a different reason. “Lance?”

He licks a trail over my skin, before stinging and soothing with his perfect mouth. “Mm?”

He pauses his movement sensing my question and guilty eyes meet mine before he drops his head to my stomach.

“I mean, of course you have,” I attempt to say in a light tone, but instead, it comes out reflecting the hurt I feel. That I have no right to feel.

“René’s got condoms somewhere.” I move from underneath him to stand, and he lets me go. The sight of him shirtless on my couch does the most erotic shit to me. “I’ll be right back.”

René has a new box of condoms in his bedside table. I make a mental note to not only replace his wine but gift him everything on my dresser. Best friend ever.

Back in the living room, Lance sits on the couch, staring out the window, lost in his thoughts.

I approach him cautiously but decide not to let his change in mood deter me. I need him, and I’m not wasting another second fighting with him or worrying about what he did when we were apart.

I straddle him and grip his chin in my hand. “Don’t get wrapped in your head,” I murmur. “Please, not right now. Please, I need you to touch me.”

He searches my eyes in question.

I shake my head.

“Priss—”

I unzip his jeans, releasing his cock, pumping his thickness in my hand. The hiss through his teeth and the lift of his eyes to mine is my undoing.

“Touch me, Lance. You’re the only one…”

My words seem to break his heart, but he does, he lifts a hand and easily covers my breast with it. “So beautiful, Priss.”

I pull away and stand, pushing down my panties and ripping open a condom as he slides his jeans down to his thighs. He grabs the latex from me and rolls it on, and I straddle him again, our mouths crashing together the instant I’m back in his arms. I lift, and he lines us up, our eyes connected. Wincing at the invasion, I sink onto him slowly, feeling every bit of the stretch.

“Jesus, Harper,” he grits out, stilling me. “Easy, baby.”

“More, more. Please more.”

Slowly he thrusts up, stealing my breath and the last of my control. Ignoring the sting, I grind on his thick length, flicker turning flame as I begin to swivel my hips and meet his steady thrusts.

“Fuck, fuck,” he grunts, gripping the back of my head, mouth parted, warm breath hitting my lips. With him, I feel it, the magnetic pull, the need, the want, the raw desire, the lust, the love. I ride him, slowly, our hearts syncing up as if no time at all has passed. In his eyes, I see answers to my every question, it’s possession, love, and mirrored lust. “Harper,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss me, his strokes quickening as we both ignite. He’s deep, hitting me perfectly, and I feel myself on the brink before he stills me, positioning me on my back while starting a slow drive into me.

“It’s you,” he says, pressing in deep, the couch dragging along the hardwood with his every thrust. “It’s you,” he repeats to the open wound I’ve spent years trying to heal. Tears threaten as I pull him down to meet my kiss, and he returns it with hunger, with fervor, with hope. It’s then we combust, his thrusts quickening to a manic pace—hard, deep, so much friction. Our breaths and words mingle as I tip over and come, my fast breaths pumping into his mouth. The orgasm is a crushing wave that takes over the whole of me as Lance plunges once, twice, and gasps out my name until we both lay speechless.

Lance

“Lance…” She moans my name, breathless. Gripping the back of her neck, I lean in, kissing her shoulders, buried to the root and grinding, doing my best to keep the sounds pouring from her. She’s been starving for me. It’s the best feeling of my life. I’ve never been this happy, and odds are this will be the highlight in my reel that sticks out the most. Harper is mine. At least for the time I have left. She saved her body, her heart for me. No one else has had her. It hurts, and it heals, and I can’t imagine how she’s feeling at my confession.

I should have held out.

I should have come for her sooner.

Regret eats away at me as I lick the shell of her ear before sucking her lobe into my mouth. Her moan muffled by the fabric as I press into her from where I bent her on the couch. We haven’t made it long without using a condom since we gave in. We’re running out of time, but I refuse to focus on that. Instead, I thrust into her, gripping her curvy hips and relishing in the sight of my cock disappearing inside her. She grips the back of the couch, her head tilted, her silky blonde hair cresting off the smooth skin of her back.

All I want to do is confess my love, pack her up, and bring her back to Texas with me. For now, I’ll steal time, and try to possess her the only way I know I can, in the place she kept for only me. Determined to bat away my own sin against her, I brand her with long, thorough strokes. I’ve never been able to truly voice how I feel the way I want to. The words I come up with would never be enough, but she deserves to hear some. Instead of confessing what’s on the edge of my tongue, I swallow it back and go dirty.

“You look so good stretched on my cock.”

Reaching around, I spread her and press a finger into her slick clit. Her back bows and her legs shake as I go impossibly deep. She detonates, tightening around me, her body convulsing in pleasure as her pants and grip drive me over the edge. I come, hard, pulling her upright and capturing her mouth as I pulse inside her. I kiss the hell out of her before pulling out and sweeping her into my arms. She buries her head in my chest, her skin heated, rose-colored from my touch.

“Let’s shower.” I nuzzle her neck.