Page 125 of The Overtime Kiss

My breath stutters in anticipation. I rub my thighs together, trying to ease the ache. But the ache is me now.

Especially since Tyler’s half-naked. His sweatshirt is long gone, and his shirt has been cast off, but he still wears the slacks from his post-game suit. It’s a hot look—especially considering how those beige slacks stretch against his thick thighs. And how his strong muscles flex in his arms as he checks the knots one more time.

I’m dressed in only panties and a bra. Somewhere in my apartment a little cat roams, but she’s fine.

And I’m more than fine as he kisses his way down my body, his lips trailing over the lace of my bra. With his teeth helping, he pushes the cups down, revealing my tits and hard nipples that might as well boast a neon sign flashing the words—Touch Me, Play With Me, Have Some Fun.

He sucks in a breath as he gazes lasciviously at them.

“Tell me,” he demands, flicking a finger against the right barbell. “Tell me why nipple play is on your list.”

A rush of pleasure spreads through me, heat and sparks filling my cells. Do I tell him? Do I say it?

Fuck it. “I like to play with them when I get myself off,” I admit.

His eyes darken. He sucks in a staggered breath. “You playing with your tits when you’re alone is the hottest thing ever.”

Then he straddles me and unhooks my bra from the clasp in the middle, letting the cups fall to the side. His big hands palm my tits.

I grow wetter by the second, arching into his touch.

He squeezes both a little bit harder.

I squirm.

He kneads them roughly.

I gasp.

He flicks his finger against the barbell on the left one, and my voice pitches up.

“Oh god. So good,” I cry out.

He teases the right one. I nearly scream.

The look on his face is pure satisfaction as he moves off me slightly and issues a command: “Spread these thighs, baby.”

I comply, and when his gaze lands on the wet patch of my panties, his hazel eyes go feral. “Fuck, baby. You do like nipple play,” he says.

And the answer isfuck yes. He returns his hands to my breasts, rubbing, squeezing, making me writhe against his touch.

A flush crawls down my chest, and my skin warms everywhere. A pulse beats between my thighs.

Tyler dips his face, buries it between the valley of my tits, then draws one nipple between his lips and flicks his tongue across the barbell.

Then he does the same to the other.

Soon, I’m panting, arching, and—I’m dripping. I’m so wet, so turned on I can’t stand it. My arms strain against the scarves.

As I try to break free, his laugh cuts through, but then it vanishes as he palms my right breast another time and draws my hard nipple back to his mouth, his tongue swirling across the piercing again and again in a dizzying, intoxicating motion.

I nearly come. “Keep doing that,” I urge.

And he does one better. He kisses and sucks, while dipping his other hand into my panties.

And the second his fingers meet my slick heat I lose my mind. Less than a minute later, I’m gasping and falling apart.I jerk against the scarves, losing myself to him, and moaning for a good, long time until the dramatic cry of a kitten pierces the air.

“Ha. Told you she needed something,” Tyler says, triumphant, pointing to Drama sitting in the doorway, meowing for attention.

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