Page 69 of Goal Line
“I’m pretty sure you’ve got at least one more for me,” he says, his voice coaxing as he turns his attention to my other thigh, kissing and nipping at that one, too. And the mere anticipation of his mouth on me again has my hips moving, searching for friction.
He brings his mouth to my center, his lips clamping around my clit without warning as he sucks and swirls his tongue against the sensitive bundle. I’m so tender after my unexpected orgasm that it feels both amazing, and a little too much, all at once.
“Softer,” I pant, even as my hips buck against his face. “I’m so sensitive, but I need more.”
He lessens the pressure on my clit as he slides a finger into me. No, it must be two, actually, and I’ve never been happier that he has those long, thick fingers. I ride his hand, meeting him thrust for thrust, but still feeling like I need something more. I’ve felt Luke’s hard cock against me enough times now to know that he’d fill me in a way his fingers can’t.
I’m about to demand exactly that when he curls his fingers and hits the part of me that sends waves of sensation rippling all the way to my toes. “Yessss,” I groan, and his tongue moves faster over my clit.
I can feel myself teetering at the brink of another orgasm, but it’s still frustratingly out of reach. Right now, I want tocome more than anything and am shameless enough to do whatever it takes to get me there.
Threading my fingers through his hair, I hold his head in place as my hips rock between his mouth and the counter, his fingers creating a delicious drag against my inner walls as he thrusts into me. And still, it’s not enough.
“Harder,” I gasp, and his fingers move deeper into me, stroking along my muscles over and over until I’m clenching around him.
He lifts his head long enough to say, “That’s right, Peaches, coat my face.” And then he runs his teeth over my clit with just enough pressure to have me practically screaming. My hands fly to my breasts and my fingers tweak my nipples as he licks and sucks and bites me.
The sensations are overwhelming, and my muscles clamp down on his fingers as I ride his face and scream out, “Yes, oh my god, Luke, please don’t stop. Fuck, yes!” And then my words turn to garbled sounds as my orgasm flashes through me, rocketing my hips off the counter. Luke holds me steady, rising with me as he continues forcing every last drop of my orgasm from me.
I’ve never felt anything like this...Intense waves of pleasure that don’t let up, crashing over and over until I am afraid I’ll cry because there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. And then, the final wave crests, barreling into me with such force that it leaves me completely sated and absolutely boneless, lying like a heap of nothingness on his counter.
Closing my eyes, I force myself to breathe because I’m pretty sure I just held my breath through that whole experience. But once my eyes are closed, I can’t seem to make them open again. Not when Luke stands, trailing gentle kisses upmy body until his lips land on my jaw before continuing to my earlobe. “You are amazing, and beautiful...and tired,” he says with a chuckle. “Time to sleep, Peaches.”
The soft light filtering through the edges of the light-blocking shades when I wake up shows me that I slept in Luke’s bed last night. Naked.
His side of the bed is empty and messy, the sheets folded back in a heap and his pillow sideways. In fact, based on the way it’s lined up with me, I’m pretty sure I was snuggling it in my sleep. Did he not sleep in here, too? Or was I cuddled up with him, then used his pillow in his absence?
I glance over my shoulder at the nightstand, hoping my phone is there so I can check the time. It is, but what catches my attention is a clear acrylic tumbler with an orange smoothie. I pick up the folded piece of paper propped in front of it.
I had an early practice and I know you needed your sleep. Hope this is still cold when you wake up. Make sure you drink it all—you and Baby Squash need the nutrients. I’ll see you when I get home.
—Luke
The tumbler is still cold, so I unscrew the top to give it a sniff. It’s not that I don’t trust Luke; I just want to preview what I’m about to put in my mouth. It smells fruity, almost tropical, so whatever it is, I know I’mgoing to like it.
Sure enough, not only is it delicious, but it’s also familiar. I take another sip, trying to place the flavor. It’s not until I’ve finished half the drink while rummaging through the drawers in Luke’s closet and finding an oversized Rebels T-shirt to wear, that I realize why it tastes familiar.
Eva
Thank you for the smoothie. Why does it taste almost exactly like the virgin peach margarita from the Neon Cactus last week?
I know Luke well enough to know this is not a coincidence. And while I hop in the shower and wait for his reply, I realize that the peach-scented shampoo and conditioner in his shower—which are an exact match for mine back in LA—are not a coincidence either.
I’m not entirely sure what to make of these non-coincidences.
Luke’s observant, and he likes to be helpful. Is this just his way of trying to smooth this transition for me?
Try as I might, though, I can’t convince myself that the multiple orgasms last night, and the one two nights before, are just him trying to behelpful. There was no way to miss that he wanted that as much as I did, and enjoyed it as much, too.
At least, back in LA, when he came in his boxers while giving me an orgasm, I know he enjoyed it. Last night, though? I sigh as I lean my head back under the water to rinse the shampoo out. Shit, I feel so greedy that he gave me two amazing orgasms and I fell asleep on the counter without even returning the favor.
Not that I think he’d be upset about that, but the memoryof the way he held me to him on that air mattress, his fingers curling into me as he came with me riding his fingers, has mewantingto make him come again.
I want to see his face clearly—not shrouded in darkness, like in my apartment—the moment his orgasm starts. I want to watch him watching me come, and see what he looks like when his own release hits.
Fuck. The thought of Luke coming has my skin singing with awareness, every drop of water running along my body turning me on more. I’m always so damn horny now.
I grab the bottle of conditioner and squirt a big dollop into my hand, determined to think about anything except sex as I pull my hair over my shoulder and use my fingers to work it into the long strands. But as I do, my forearms graze my nipples and desire shoots through my veins, lighting me up.
