Page 70 of Curveball
She signals for me to come further inside, then closes the door behind me and stands there with her back to the wooden panel, one knee bent back, her hands folded before her. Her belt loosens with her movement and her robe gapes open, though she doesn’t make a move to adjust the lapels.
“Well, you sent the ticket, and all. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” she says with a relaxed grin and shining espresso eyes.She’s mocking me. She has home field advantage and she’s using it. “I’ve seen you play better, but I’m still glad I went.”
I scoff and shuffle close to her, the tips of my runners mere inches from her brightly-painted toes. Her nose so close to my collarbone, the scent of what I assume is her shampoo wafts up and invades my senses.
“Pfft. Hurt my feelings. Now, you’re just being mean.”
My heart is drumming in my chest. Slow and steady, as if I were on track for a no hitter and I need my nerves sharp. She’s toying with me. My Palmer Girl is taunting me—flirting with me—and I like it.
“Come on, bad boy. Or maybe your egocan’ttake it.”
“My ego is just fine. But what I can’t take for even another moment is your mouth so close to mine and I’m not kissing you.”
With my gaze locked on hers, intent yet tentative, I lift one hand and lay it on the side of her face, giving her the chance to change her mind, to move away, to kick me in the shin if I’m misreading the signals she’s sending me.
She leans into me. “Well, hey. We can fix that easily enough.”
She briefly rubs the silky skin of her cheek against my calloused fingers, turns her head to place a soft kiss in the center of my palm, then reaches for the hem of my tee and pulls the shirt over my head. It lands with a softswishsomewhere on the floor behind me. Without pause, she drapes her raised arms over my shoulders, around my neck, and she crashes her lips to mine.
Her mouth is firmly planted to mine, soft and sweet. Lush and moving against me with a hunger that matches my own. I growl low in my throat and latch my hands to both sides of her head, holding her firm while I taste her. My tongue slips out and traces the seam of her lips and she opens for me, her tongue slipping out to tangle with mine. If I thought I wanted this kiss more than she does, I was sorely mistaken. This girl is in it with me, matching me stroke for stroke, moan for moan.
I reach out and pull loose the sash around her waist, and the sides of her robe part. She is bare to me. This woman has been verbally sparring with me, knowing she’s bare-ass naked under one flimsy layer of tufted cotton, and . . . and . . . my mind goes blank.
She pulls away slightly, her liquid gaze now hesitant and shy. She lowers her chin and pulls her gaze from mine, her hands moving to cover herself, till I capture them in mine.
“I’m—”
“Fucking gorgeous,” I rasp out, and she is. I’ve seen her in her bikini, so I know she has toned legs and full breasts, a rounded ass, and a smooth, soft stomach that most women try to hide with loose-fitting clothes. I want to run my hands over the sexy curves of her waist and hips until she’s bucking beneath me.
I toe off my runners and kick them toward the wall near the door. Then, I sweep her into my arms and pause with her cradled against me, my eyes searching hers.
“Couch or your room?” I have no idea where her bed is, but I want a flat surface to worship this woman’s body, and I want it now.
“Second door on the right,” she responds, her eyes luminous, her voice breathy, answering more than one question with those few words.
I follow her simple directions down the hallway to her bedroom door, stretch out one hand to twist the knob and give the door a shove open, then catch her back in both arms just long enough to cross the room.
“Jesus, Palmer, I’ve dreamed of this. I can’t tell you?—”
She lets out one short whimper and holds on tight, her lips wreaking havoc on the skin of my neck, the pulse at my throat. Her hands have been roving the planes of my chest since I heaved her up. My dick is hard and bobbing painfully as I walk. My body is on fucking fire for this girl.
“Anyplace is fine, Max. Really. The floor, even. Just touch me. Please.” That last entreaty is delivered in a long, drawn-out keening that tells me she wants this as much as I do, and I’m not giving her what she needs.
We can fix that, right, big guy? Suit up, I’m ready to go!
We don’t have long to wait. Her room is small but not cramped, and her bed is large.Heh. I want to use it all. I start by sitting her at the foot of the mattress, her legs hanging off the edge, and crowd into her to take her lips in another searing kiss. As our lips mesh and our teeth clash, her hands claw at my waistband, untying the string and grabbing at the elastic. In a flash, my pants are at my ankles and my cock slaps against my stomach. Her eyes widen.
“Commando? I bet you were a Boy Scout.”
She reaches out to wrap her palm around my jutting erection, her glistening tongue sweeping across her lips as though preparing them to devour a meal, and my knees nearly buckle.
“Now, I know why your name is Max,” my girl quips, and the comic relief in this sexually charged moment has me chuffing out a laugh.
Her tits bob every time she chuckles, moves her arm, takes a breath. I rest my hands on the points of her shoulders, then glide them down her arms, taking the thick terry of her robe with them till the fabric pools at her hips and she’s as naked as I am. A gentle shove has her lying flat, her face looking up at me from the middle of the bed, her hair wild around her.
So many options here. I press her legs apart with my knees, and she willingly widens them. Reach one long digit between the plump folds of her pussy and swipe. My finger comes back glistening with her wetness, and I suck it into my mouth. Palmer whimpers and squirms, her jostling breasts drawing my attention.
The mattress gives when I lean over her, bracing my arms on either side of her shoulders to draw one pretty tit into my mouth, teasing her nipple with my tongue and sucking hard. She bucks her chest into me as if demanding more.
