Page 60 of Cross-Checked

“Oh fuck! I’m...” she trails off, words lost as she cries out while her muscles contract against my fingers and her legs shake where they rest over my shoulders. The almost inhuman sounds coming out of her mouth while she rides the waves of her orgasm have me on the verge of coming, but I hold back because there’s no way I’m not feeling myself slide into her after this.

When she’s done, her back slides down that mirror and her hips press forward into my face. It’s like someone’s taken all the bones out of her body, and she chuckles in response, saying, “I can’t move. I think you broke me.”

I rise, standing between her legs and leaning over her where her back and head now rest against the deep counter atop thevanity. “I’m pretty sure you’re not broken. Seems like you work just fine.”

I wrap one hand beneath her neck and my other arm beneath her lower back so I can bring her up to sitting. Moving my hand from behind her neck to cup her jaw, I say, “Kiss me. I want you to taste yourself on my tongue.”

“What?” The word barely squeaks out as her eyes widen.

“You’ve never tasted how sweet you are?”

“No. That’s...” For a moment, I think she’s going to refuse me, but then she wraps her hand around my neck, pulling me to her. The kiss is tentative, like she’s not sure what she’s going to find when her lips part and she meets my tongue with hers. But I deepen the kiss, holding her against me, rubbing my cock along her abdomen and feeling the way her nipples scrape along my ribs. And when she wraps her lower legs around mine, her calves pulling me into her even harder, that’s when I know she still wants more.

Tilting her head back, I break the kiss and enjoy her resulting whimper. Her face is pouty, like I’ve just taken away something she wants. I’m living for this side of her—where she’s not trying to hide how she feels about me.

I lift her hips, setting her on the tile floor and turning her to face the mirror. Standing behind her, I move her hair off her back, sliding it over her left shoulder so I can dip my head down to her ear. Without breaking eye contact in the mirror, I ask, “Have you ever watched anyone fuck you?”

Her jaw drops open slightly, and then she glides her tongue along her upper lip. Out of pure instinct, my fingers curl around her hip bones as I press my cock into her lower back.

“Because I want you to see how fucking magnificent you look when you come.”

Her eyebrows scrunch in question, creating an adorable divot between them. “But I already came.”

“And you’re going to come again, this time on my cock.”

The vibrations of her shaky exhale ripple against me, and I press my hips forward into her again.

“I can’t . . .” she pauses, and I wait her out. “. . . come that way.”

“You’venevercome that way, or youcan’t?” I ask, but either way I’m determined to prove her wrong. She can, and she will.

Her eyes lock with mine in the mirror, and with a roll of her eyes, she says, “Same difference.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

AJ

“No,” he says, his voice hard as he grinds the words out between clenched teeth. “It’s not.”

I hate the way my cheeks turn pink as I watch us in the mirror, so I turn my head away as I explain, “Lots of women can’t have an internal orgasm.”

His hand slides from my hip up my abdomen and between my breasts, his forearm grazing my nipple, before he settles with his hand around my throat. I like the possessive feel of his hand there—hell, the feel of his handseverywhere—maybe more than I should.

With his palm still cupping my throat, he uses two fingers on my jaw to turn my head so I’m facing the mirror again.

“Just because you can’t have an internal orgasm doesn’t mean you can’t orgasm during sex,” he says. I know my face conveys my confusion because he shakes his head and adds, “My god, has no one ever taken care of you?”

There’s a lot of emotion in his words, and I wish I was better at reading him. I can’t tell if he’s mad at that idea, or sad about it. My mind runs through all the wayshe’staken care of me in the past few days—physically, emotionally, and sexually. Before him, though...not so much.

He presses a kiss to my temple. “You’re going to come on my cock, and it’s not going to be a one-time thing. Do you trust me?”

In the quiet bathroom, my gulp is audible, and I watch myself give him a single nod. I don’t know why I trust him, when all the men in my life disappoint me.

That’s not true,I remind myself, instead focusing on the positive relationships I have with men who don’t suck: Nicholas, Jameson, Frank. There are plenty of guys on the team who are good, standup men too.Don’t let your father and Chet destroy your trust in half the species.

McCabe said he was going to ruin me for all other men, and after that earth-shattering orgasm he just gave me, I believe him. Clearly, he’s a man of his word. If he makes me come again,duringsex, he truly will have achieved his goal, because no one else has ever done that for me.

But since I can’t be with him in any other way than these stolen moments, ruining me for anyone else feels like maybe I’m inviting a lifetime of sexual frustration?

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