Page 33 of Pucking My Grumpy Roommate
I took the opportunity to rid myself of my bra, reveling in the raw hunger in his eyes as my breasts were revealed. His hands immediately claimed them, thumbs brushing over my nipples in a way that made me whimper.
“So responsive,” he murmured, leaning forward to take one peak into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue sent jolts of renewed desire straight to my core.
“Please,” I begged, helping him roll the condom onto his impressive length. “I need you inside me, Austin. Now.”
He gripped my hips, positioning me above him, the head of his cock brushing my entrance. “Look at me,” he commanded softly.
I met his gaze, struck by the intensity I found there. This wasn’t just lust—there was something deeper, something that made my chest tighten with emotion.
“Austin,” I whispered, and then sank down onto him in one fluid motion.
We both groaned at the sensation. He filled me completely, stretching me in a way that bordered on painful but quickly shifted to exquisite pleasure. For a moment we stayed perfectly still, foreheads pressed together, sharing breath.
“You feel fucking incredible,” he murmured, his hands tightening on my hips.
I rolled them experimentally, gasping as the movement hit a spot deep inside me. “So do you.”
And then we were moving together, finding a rhythm that quickly grew desperate. I rode him hard, my hands braced on his shoulders, his grip on my hips guiding my movements. His mouth found my breasts again, sucking and nipping in a way that had me crying out.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, one hand sliding between us to circle my clit. “Come for me again, Kate. Want to feel you come around my cock.”
His words pushed me closer to the edge, memories of our explicit texts adding another layer to the physical sensations overwhelming me.
“Remember when you texted me about fucking you against a wall?” he growled in my ear. “We’ll do that next. Pin you up and take you hard, just like you described.”
“Austin!” I cried out as his words and touch sent me careening over the edge for a second time. My inner muscles clamped down on him, pulling him deeper.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his rhythm faltering as he followed me into release, his arms wrapping around me to hold me tightly against him as he shuddered beneath me.
We stayed like that for long moments, trembling and breathing hard, my face buried in his neck, his hands stroking my back.
CHAPTER 8
AUSTIN
Itugged at my tie for the fifth time in as many minutes, feeling like it was strangling me more effectively than any opposing player ever had. Charity events were always a special kind of torture—dress clothes, small talk, and smiling for photos when all I wanted to do was be anywhere else.
Preferably back in my apartment, with Kate.
“You look like you’re being waterboarded,” Dennis said, appearing at my side with two glasses of whiskey. He handed me one. “Drink this. It might help with whatever’s got your face looking like that.”
I accepted the glass gratefully. “Thanks. Just not in the mood for this tonight.”
“When are you ever in the mood for these things?” He glanced around the ballroom of the downtown Minneapolis hotel where the team’s annual Children’s Hospital fundraiser was in full swing. “Though you’re usually better at faking it. What’s up with you?”
Images of Kate—flushed and moaning beneath me on my couch—flashed through my mind. I took a long sip of whiskey.
“Nothing. Just tired from PT.”
Dennis’s eyebrows shot up. “Bullshit. Did something happen with the science chick? You finally hook up?”
I kept my expression carefully neutral, but Dennis had known me too long.
“Holy shit,” he whispered, leaning closer. “You did! Stone Callahan got laid! Alert the media!”
“Keep your voice down,” I hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had heard him. “And it’s not like that.”
“Not like what?”
