“Off…” I pushed at the waist of his jeans and he complied, unbuttoning and unzipping and pushing them over his hips. I sat up on my elbows to watch as Hayes stood and shucked them swiftly, kicking out of them and knocking over my margarita in the process. I grinned and shrugged, holding out my arms. Holding my eyes, he dropped his boxer briefs and stood in front of me, proud and erect. He palmed himself in a loose tug while I watched, humor fading and my mouth going dry.
I’d seen penises before. I may have been a virgin, but I’d done stuff. Hayes was beautiful, long and thick and bobbing softly before me. My core throbbed just looking at him.
“Your turn.” His voice was gravel.
Holding his gaze, I slipped the straps of my bra down and unhooked the front clasp. I held it for a moment before letting it fall, and then lay back on the bed, hooking my thumbs into my panties to remove them. The bed dipped as Hayes came down beside me, one hand propping up his head and the other on mine, pausing my movements. The rush from earlier had faded, replaced with lazy intent. “Let me.”
I let my hands fall to the bed as he swept his hand from hip to breast, weighing the one closest to him in his palm and circling the tip with his thumb. The contact of his skin, calloused and roughened from years of baseball and God-only-knows-what-else, spiked a shiver of sensation straight down my middle, and I clenched my legs together.
With a dark chuckle, he bent his mouth to my breast, and slid his hand down to palm me through my underwear. Sucking and pulling and circling, oh my. My head fell back, my hips flexed upward, and the breath left me in a near silent gasp. I wanted to keen as he worked a finger beneath the elastic band to touch me, sliding it over my clit and down through my folds before returning to circle that nub with the perfect amount of pressure. Holy wow.
“Yeah?” Hayes lifted his head from my breast and looked up at me, eyes narrowed deviously.
Goddamnit. I really need to work harder on not saying shit out loud.
His words were a rasp, scraping against my skin. “Don’t stop on my account.”
Fuck. Me.
“Getting there. Patience.”
I decided to put a damper on my mental word vomit, as it had obviously become verbal vomit, and clapped my hand over my mouth. With a short laugh, Hayes tugged my panties to my ankles and then off altogether. Sliding down my body, he gave me one last wicked look and replaced his finger with his mouth.
Embarrassment licked at me along with the first touch of his tongue and I squirmed. No one had ever done this to me before and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was something guys actually liked, or if they just did it to increase their chances of finalizing things. Raking the fingers of my free hand into his hair, I pulled but he held his position.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said weakly, closing my eyes against the sweet assault. “I’m kind of a sure thing.”
“Shut up,” he responded, returning to his task with unmistakable fervor.
“Ahh...” I shut up.
He was as confident with oral sex as he was with his performance on the pitcher’s mound. He started with the flat of his tongue, lapping at me in a single stroke that made my toes curl, and groaned low in his throat. Curling his tongue, he added a finger, pumping it slowly in and out as he explored every fold of my flesh, returning time and again to my clit with an unerring sense of direction.
It felt…incredible. I could feel my eyes rolling back in my head and wondered that I’d never done this before. I shook and quivered and held my needy little sounds in as best I could until at long last, he lifted his head and gazed up the length of my body, satisfaction and banked desire heavy in his eyes.
“Please.” I tugged at him again and this time he came willingly up my body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to my hipbones, my sternum, my breasts, and finally my collarbone. I could feel him against my thigh, long and impossibly hard. “Hayes. I need you.”
He studied me with a gravity that he usually reserved for the most serious of occasions. “You sure? We don’t have to keep going.” As if to put lie to his words, he rocked his hips against me subtly.
I clutched his face in both hands, trying to make my body cease the little shivers that rocked it. “If you stop now, I promise I will kick you in the balls.”
He bent his forehead to my chest, shoulders shaking with mirth. “God, I love you.”
My heart expanded in my chest, swelling like a balloon until I feared it would burst. It climbed into my throat and sat, stoppering the words that hung there. Hayes seemed to understand my sudden silence and reached into the nightstand for a condom. In a weirdly sexy move, he ripped it open with his teeth and slid it down his length, then positioned himself at my opening. “Ready?”
I nodded, and with a single bold thrust, he drove himself inside me. There was nothing slow about it, nothing hesitant or tender. It was as if, having made the decision to follow through, he was going to do so with confidence. With authority.
I stiffened at the sharp pinch of hurt and he held himself motionless, until the tensile give of my channel around him eased and the pain transformed to a feeling of fullness mixed with an odd emptiness I needed to move to satisfy. I gave an experimental flex of my hips against his. His jaw clenched and the muscles in his arms quivered as he held himself over me. “You good?”
In answer, I wrapped my ankles around his lower back and ground a tight circle of my pelvis against his. His breath released in a hiss. Withdrawing almost completely, he reached for my hand and laced his fingers through mine, then pushed slowly back in. His lips connected with mine and he kissed me deep, our tongues diving and retreating in a mimicry of another dance.
He began a rhythmic slide in and out, hitching my thigh up higher with his free hand to improve the angle of his pelvis against that bundle of nerves at the apex of my sex. His gaze clung, holding me prisoner. He was speaking silently with those eyes, laying himself bare and telling me everything I hadn’t known I wanted to know. His vulnerability cut me. I wanted to say the words, echo his earlier statement, but the words were locked in my throat, silenced by years of holding myself aloof.
I contented myself with letting him see me, keeping my own eyes open and connected with his.
There was a building inside me, a pressure cooker of sensation. My fingers scrabbled against his shoulder, his neck. “Hayes.”
“Let go, Birdie.”
With every quickening stroke the pressure increased until at last, with one final shuddering gasp, I felt my muscles clench around him and then release. I was coming, pulsing in waves of pleasure as I shattered. A few more strokes and he followed with a hoarse shout. We rode the wave down together, until our surroundings filtered back, one sensation at a time. The tick of the clock on the nightstand. The smell of tacos. The worn cotton of the quilt beneath me.
Beneath the weight of his body I lay, sweaty, exhausted, and exhilarated. He started to roll to the side, but I tightened my arms around his waist and held him to me. “No. Stay.”
“I’m crushing you. He rolled us both over, so that I lay atop him, his hands roaming over my butt and squeezing before he slapped it lightly and started to rise. “Let me take care of this.” I watched as he disposed of the condom and turned the light off, leaving us in the dim glow from the bathroom.
Returning to the bed, he pulled me into the crook of his arm and tugged the sheet up to cover us. “You’re staying tonight.”