Page 70 of The Midseason Fakeout

“No, because I want to see these.” I trail my hand up under the jersey covering her soft skin and then squeeze her breast right over her flimsy, lace bra. She moans, spurring me on. Pulling the cup down, I tweak her nipple, and she thrusts her chest into my eager fingers.

“Can I see you?” she ekes out.

I stand, unzipping my pants and then pushing them down past my knees. I step out of my shoes and clothes, all while she stares at my cock. A shiver runs through me. “Say it again,” I whisper.

“Say what?”

“That you want me to be your first.”

She smiles. “Aidan. Stud. QB1. Terrible floaty expert… I want you to be my first.”

My breath hitches watching the different emotions play over her face. From humor to sincerity. The playfulness we both share. I’ve never wanted anyone more.

“You want me here?” I ask, moving my hand up her thigh until I hit my target. I swirl her nub as she nods. “Sit up.”

She does so, and I help take my jersey off her before tossing it onto a chair and then unclasping her bra. My stomach knots in anticipation. She slides up the bed, lying back onto the pillows and then pats the spot next to her.

I take my place, facing her, my heart beating like mad. She reaches for me, her fingers tracing my cheeks before kissing me. Her lips soft and eager, I revel in the way she tastes; in the way she takes her time, savoring every last moment of our connection. I work my hand between her thighs, dipping in her juices before finding her entrance, pushing inside her with a gentle thrust.

She moans, her eyes widening until the noise ceases, dying on her lips with an intake of breath. Her hips move against me, taking more and more of my finger deeper inside. “You’re going to be on top,” I tell her.

“What?” she asks, panicked. “Is that the best idea?”

“I can’t think of anything better than you dictating everything.”

She licks her lips. “But I want you to enjoy it.”

“I don’t know what else you think I could be doing.”

“Aidan, don’t tease me right now,” she groans, my finger still moving inside her. “I want to be good for you.”

“You will be, Angel. You’re going to be the best.”

She reaches out, fisting the base of my cock, running her grip along my length, trying to match my pace. I kiss her neck, tracing up her jaw. Short sighs fall from her lips.

I’m so hard I could bust right now.

The next time I retreat my fingers, I switch to two and then push inside. She’s so damn tight. Fuck. I scissor, and she squeezes my cock in response. I play with her until she’s writhing, each sound from her lips like a prayer.

Without hesitation, I pick her up, settling her over my hips until she’s straddling me. She stares down with wide eyes. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” I promise her, reaching into her nightstand for a condom.

Her mouth drops. “What? Where did that come from?”

“I have ways,” I say, shrugging.

She bites her lip. “Oh, you’re a lying liar. How long have you had condoms in there, Mr. Fake Boyfriend?”

“I’m not telling.”

I tear the condom open and show her how to roll it down my length. She guides it to my base and then waits, her perfect breasts calling me. I reach behind her thighs, yanking her forward until I’m lined up. “Sit on me.”

She shifts up, but at the last second, I have another idea.

“Wait one second, Angel.” I scoot down while holding her in place, then I grab the back of her thighs until she’s straddling my face and not my cock. She falls forward, her hands hitting the wall when she cries out. “Aidan!”

“I need to taste you first.” I lick up her length. I could make an excuse about needing her wet, but she already is. She’s soaked. This is purely selfish. I just want to make her come on my tongue.

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