Page 87 of Pitcher Perfect
He suctioned her lips with his own and pumped his cock home, muffling her cry with his mouth, gritting his teeth, and going still when he found her tighter than expected.Oh. Oh my... God. Motherfucker, that wet grip and clench she surrounded him with defied words. And then she rocked and whined, as if he felt good, but maybe too big, too deep too soon and his control nearly slipped then and there, because she was ringing his cock just by breathing. With every little shift or movement.So good.
“Are you okay?” he choked out.
“Yes.Yesyesyes.”
“Thank you, God. I need to...” Robbie drew back and dropped his hips again, digging his feet into the mattress to leverage himself and get extra deep. He couldn’t get deep enough and yet the way she fit him was almost excruciating in its perfection. She was already snug, but she pulsed on top of that, milking his inches in a rhythm he’d feel in his bones for the foreseeable future. “I should flip you over and spank you for being so fucking tight. MyGod. I could come without moving.”
“Move, though,” Skylar whined. “Move.”
“Okay, baby,” he gritted out, easing into his typical starting pattern. Two pumps and a grind. Two... grind. Two what? The pattern dissolved along with any rational thoughts. His hips took over. There was no rehearsal for this girl; she was the only experience of her kind, gutting him with lifts of her hips, the brightening of awe in her eyes at how good it felt. Yeah, he didn’t even have to ask—what was happening between them was unquestionable. The best they’d ever have. The best, period. “You’ve got me locked in here so good, you fucking angel.” His stomach muscles started to seize up, one by one. “Might need you to ride me for a little while so I don’t blow.”
This girl practically threw Robbie onto his back without ceasing their breakneck pace, her hips on fire, hands planted on his chest, tits bobbing while she worked the drenched suction of her pussy up and down his length, giving no quarter. No time to breathe or recuperate or savor the mind-blowing sensations. His only option was to reach up and grip the slats of the headboard and watch the girl of his dreams buck her hips, sweat forming on her beautiful body, her breath beginning to hitch.
“I’m coming, Robbie.” Skylar leaned forward, digging her nails into his shoulders and grinding—oh shit, grinding on his dick and contracting so swiftly, so repeatedly, his back arched off the bed. “You made me come. You make me come.”
Now the girl was on her back again and he had no memory of putting her there. Only that her thighs were flat to the bed, her knees pointing at opposite walls and she was encouraging him by saying things likethat’s it, baby, leave a markin his ear.Use it. Use me.And he was now a fucking bull in a China shop, grunting into sloppy sucks of her neck, his lower body moving at a demon’s pace, flesh smacking flesh, the bed creaking beneath them, as if he could worry about something so inconsequential when hewas seconds from letting go. This place, with Skylar, where he felt like his authentic self, giving up a part of himself because she was the right person, the only person, to trust himself with.
“Skylar,” he said, gravity in those syllables, his body falling onto her like a beggar, gathering her close and rubbing his open mouth over her hair, across her forehead, moving on total and complete autopilot. “I’m in trouble, baby. I’m in so much trouble over you.”
“It’s okay,” she whimpered. “We’ll make it okay.”
“Please.” Robbie choked on that word as he erupted, the release starting in the soles of his motherfucking feet and rocketing up to his groin, the pleasure so intense he yelled into the next kiss, his lower body rolling furiously, trying to get free of the pain, and it only subsided when she wrapped her arms around him and started planting kisses in random spots on his face, throat, and shoulders, as if she needed to do more when her cunt was seized up, throttling his body and his heart and everything that made him up. “Please, please, please,” he kept chanting while the headboard cracked off the wall, no idea what he was begging for, only that she was the only one who knew how to give it to him.
And finally, he collapsed, a human in the form of vapor, no idea if he’d ever move again. But even in his replete—and frankly, love-drunk—state, the irony wasn’t lost on him. He’d set out to teach her how to attract and keep a man, but she’d ended up teaching him about himself, instead. What he valued most. Who he wanted to be.
Wherehe wanted to be and with whom.
The answer to that had been obvious this morning, but now?
Now he had hope. A potential chance.
He wasn’t going to squander it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Skylar woke up alone.
Her panic only had ten seconds to bloom, however, because Robbie came skidding back into her childhood bedroom in white boxer briefs, red hair wild, grinning like he had a secret. It all kind of happened in slow motion, the realization that she had fallen for him somewhere in the middle of this week’s mayhem. Even before he’d shown up with Boston University swag, saved her from drowning, salvaged her father’s pride, suffered through karaoke, and...
Blown her actual mind in bed.
Like, blown it into the next decade.
Was it crazy that she half wished hewasn’tso good in bed? Because it was obvious he’d hada lotof practice. His hands and mouth and hips were confident in every movement. Knew exactly how to hold and touch and position her. She’d decided years ago she simply wasn’t the kind of woman who could mentally relax enough to have an orgasm through intercourse, but, holy shit, her uterus was physically sore from how intensely Robbie had twisted her insides up and strained them with that blissful rush of release.
She washungoverfrom that orgasm.
Even more terrifying was the churned-up sensation in the dead center of her chest. How had the worst of it happened while she slept? Had his protective arms around her all night allowed her guard to drop and her growing feelings to spread?
“Talent show,” Robbie stage-whispered, closing the bedroom door without a sound. “Your parents must have taken my rant yesterday to heart, because that’s the final challenge. Talent shows have very low mortality rates. What are we going to do?”
Skylar couldn’t answer right away because a wedge got stuck in her throat. Somehow on this giant planet, she’d collided with someone who got excited about her family’s nonsense, too. This man was already very important to her. Did she have full confidence he’d always want mornings like this? Want a long-term relationship?
Not quite.
Not one hundred percent.
But maybe she could try to trust him... for now? See how it felt?
