The Goal
Page 8
“I don’t need more foreplay,” I tell him as I drag his shirt up over his head.
Oh God, muscle alert. Lots and lots of tight, smooth, rippled muscles glide beneath my palms. Gotta love athletes.
His hands tunnel under my skirt. “Is that right?”
There’s nothing graceful about the way his fingers shove aside my thong, and there’s no warning when he thrusts two of them inside of me. It’s dirty and so hot. Air whistles between my teeth as I inhale sharply.
“Like that, do you?” he murmurs.
“It’s okay,” I lie, and am immediately punished when he withdraws. “Fine. It feels good.”
He withdraws again and uses his now wet fingers to lightly circle my clit. My entire body strains and clenches and screams for more.
“Just good, huh?” he taunts.
I give in. “Great. It’s great.”
“I know.” He looks smug. “I hate to tell you this, Sabrina. But you’ve made a big mistake.”
“What? Why?”
His fingers draw my thong tight, the fabric cutting into my swollen lips. “Because I’m going to ruin you for all future guys. I apologize in advance.”
Then he jerks the fabric aside and slams three fingers in. The graphic rawness of it comes as a giant shock. I can feel it—him—everywhere. Even down to my toes. A wave of excitement crashes over me. Holy shit, he’s making me come. Is that even possible?
I stare at him open-mouthed, and he grins back, white teeth against his tanned skin and his beard, fully aware he’s blowing my mind. His fingers move again, two of them rubbing against that spot that hardly anyone ever finds but me.
And he keeps rubbing it as he jacks his fingers inside me. And I keep coming. I let my head fall back and my eyelids fall closed and I give myself over to the pleasure that spirals up and through my body until I’m one shuddering mass of sensation.
When I drop back to Earth, I find myself lying against his chest, gasping for air. I’ve never come this hard in my life, and the guy hasn’t even been inside me yet. My heart is pounding insanely fast, and my sluggish mind is having a hard time keeping up.
He’s just a guy. A normal guy, I remind myself. One dick and two balls. This is nothing special.
“I haven’t had sex in a while,” I mumble as my breathing starts to normalize. “I’ve been super stressed. My body really needed a release.”
Three long fingers flex inside me. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, darlin’.”
There’s smug amusement in his voice, but the guy just fingered me to orgasm (which never happens to me), so I guess I can’t blame him. He drags the pads of his fingers along my sensitive nerve endings as he withdraws, pulling another involuntary shudder out of me.
Between us, his hand rises and the wetness shines on his fingers even in the dark cab of his truck. I’m not prepared for the shock of arousal that hits me when he sucks them clean.
I gulp.
One swift jerk of a lever and his seat falls completely flat. Tucker lies down and beckons for me again. “C’mere and fuck my face. I need more of that.”
Oh. My. God. Who is this guy?
Maybe I shouldn’t hike my skirt up around my waist and crawl forward, but I do. It’s like he’s cast a spell on me and I’m helpless to disobey him.
“You’re gonna want to brace yourself,” he rasps, “because I’m going to make you come again.”
“You’re so fucking cocky.”
“No. I’m sure. And so are you. Now gimme that sweet pussy and ride my tongue.”
Oh, sweet baby Jesus. Sex with Tucker is dirtier and hotter than I thought it would be. He doesn’t look like he’d be this way, but isn’t it always the quiet ones?
I like it, almost too much.
His hot breath warms my skin as I lower myself over his face.
“Fuck yeah,” is the last thing he says before his mouth latches on to me.
He doesn’t just use his tongue. He uses his lips, his teeth to scrape across my hypersensitive clit. One hand is clamped around my hip while he uses the other to finger me. And his tongue? He licks me in long, sweeping strokes until I’m muffling sobs against my wrist. Then he parts me with two fingers and holds me open while his tongue stabs hard inside me.
He’s right—I do need to brace myself. I grip the sides of the seat and then I’m gone. He brings me right to the edge of the cliff and throws me over.
While I’m still shuddering from my second orgasm of the night, Tucker lifts me off his face and down to his lap where somehow his dick is free of his jeans. I reach between us and grab him.
“Wait,” he barks, but it’s too late.
I suck in my lower lip as the broad head slowly penetrates me. Greedily, I push down, wanting to fill myself up. His hands find my hips, and I breathe out a sigh of anticipatory satisfaction only to yelp with dismay when he pushes me off.
“Condom,” he says grimly.
I glance down between us in surprise. I never make that mistake. Never. My hand flies to my mouth. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking…”
He fumbles in his jeans, finds his wallet and tosses it to me. “No big deal. It was just the tip.”
A sly wink draws a startled laugh out of me. I bite open the foil and then position the rubber over the head of his shaft.
“I’m clean,” I feel compelled to tell him. “I get tested after…” I trail off, feeling like talking about past hookups is bad form when I’m naked and about to impale myself on someone else’s dick. “Well, after. And I’m on the pill.”
“It’s all good on my end,” he says. His eyelids flutter shut for a beat as I roll the condom down the thick, hot column of flesh. A low moan escapes his mouth, and then he brushes my hand aside to take hold of himself.
“Ready?” he asks, positioning the head at my entrance.
I don’t know if I nod or whimper or beg, but whatever sound comes out of my mouth must sound like assent, because he shoves upward with one swift motion until he’s seated to the hilt.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hisses through gritted teeth.
“And you’re damn big,” I croak, wriggling around on top of him.
He grabs my hips to hold me still and shallowly pumps into me. “Don’t move.”
“Can’t stop.” The friction feels so good. If I thought his fingers and tongue were magic, his dick is supernatural. I can feel him everywhere.
Oh God, muscle alert. Lots and lots of tight, smooth, rippled muscles glide beneath my palms. Gotta love athletes.
His hands tunnel under my skirt. “Is that right?”
There’s nothing graceful about the way his fingers shove aside my thong, and there’s no warning when he thrusts two of them inside of me. It’s dirty and so hot. Air whistles between my teeth as I inhale sharply.
“Like that, do you?” he murmurs.
“It’s okay,” I lie, and am immediately punished when he withdraws. “Fine. It feels good.”
He withdraws again and uses his now wet fingers to lightly circle my clit. My entire body strains and clenches and screams for more.
“Just good, huh?” he taunts.
I give in. “Great. It’s great.”
“I know.” He looks smug. “I hate to tell you this, Sabrina. But you’ve made a big mistake.”
“What? Why?”
His fingers draw my thong tight, the fabric cutting into my swollen lips. “Because I’m going to ruin you for all future guys. I apologize in advance.”
Then he jerks the fabric aside and slams three fingers in. The graphic rawness of it comes as a giant shock. I can feel it—him—everywhere. Even down to my toes. A wave of excitement crashes over me. Holy shit, he’s making me come. Is that even possible?
I stare at him open-mouthed, and he grins back, white teeth against his tanned skin and his beard, fully aware he’s blowing my mind. His fingers move again, two of them rubbing against that spot that hardly anyone ever finds but me.
And he keeps rubbing it as he jacks his fingers inside me. And I keep coming. I let my head fall back and my eyelids fall closed and I give myself over to the pleasure that spirals up and through my body until I’m one shuddering mass of sensation.
When I drop back to Earth, I find myself lying against his chest, gasping for air. I’ve never come this hard in my life, and the guy hasn’t even been inside me yet. My heart is pounding insanely fast, and my sluggish mind is having a hard time keeping up.
He’s just a guy. A normal guy, I remind myself. One dick and two balls. This is nothing special.
“I haven’t had sex in a while,” I mumble as my breathing starts to normalize. “I’ve been super stressed. My body really needed a release.”
Three long fingers flex inside me. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, darlin’.”
There’s smug amusement in his voice, but the guy just fingered me to orgasm (which never happens to me), so I guess I can’t blame him. He drags the pads of his fingers along my sensitive nerve endings as he withdraws, pulling another involuntary shudder out of me.
Between us, his hand rises and the wetness shines on his fingers even in the dark cab of his truck. I’m not prepared for the shock of arousal that hits me when he sucks them clean.
I gulp.
One swift jerk of a lever and his seat falls completely flat. Tucker lies down and beckons for me again. “C’mere and fuck my face. I need more of that.”
Oh. My. God. Who is this guy?
Maybe I shouldn’t hike my skirt up around my waist and crawl forward, but I do. It’s like he’s cast a spell on me and I’m helpless to disobey him.
“You’re gonna want to brace yourself,” he rasps, “because I’m going to make you come again.”
“You’re so fucking cocky.”
“No. I’m sure. And so are you. Now gimme that sweet pussy and ride my tongue.”
Oh, sweet baby Jesus. Sex with Tucker is dirtier and hotter than I thought it would be. He doesn’t look like he’d be this way, but isn’t it always the quiet ones?
I like it, almost too much.
His hot breath warms my skin as I lower myself over his face.
“Fuck yeah,” is the last thing he says before his mouth latches on to me.
He doesn’t just use his tongue. He uses his lips, his teeth to scrape across my hypersensitive clit. One hand is clamped around my hip while he uses the other to finger me. And his tongue? He licks me in long, sweeping strokes until I’m muffling sobs against my wrist. Then he parts me with two fingers and holds me open while his tongue stabs hard inside me.
He’s right—I do need to brace myself. I grip the sides of the seat and then I’m gone. He brings me right to the edge of the cliff and throws me over.
While I’m still shuddering from my second orgasm of the night, Tucker lifts me off his face and down to his lap where somehow his dick is free of his jeans. I reach between us and grab him.
“Wait,” he barks, but it’s too late.
I suck in my lower lip as the broad head slowly penetrates me. Greedily, I push down, wanting to fill myself up. His hands find my hips, and I breathe out a sigh of anticipatory satisfaction only to yelp with dismay when he pushes me off.
“Condom,” he says grimly.
I glance down between us in surprise. I never make that mistake. Never. My hand flies to my mouth. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking…”
He fumbles in his jeans, finds his wallet and tosses it to me. “No big deal. It was just the tip.”
A sly wink draws a startled laugh out of me. I bite open the foil and then position the rubber over the head of his shaft.
“I’m clean,” I feel compelled to tell him. “I get tested after…” I trail off, feeling like talking about past hookups is bad form when I’m naked and about to impale myself on someone else’s dick. “Well, after. And I’m on the pill.”
“It’s all good on my end,” he says. His eyelids flutter shut for a beat as I roll the condom down the thick, hot column of flesh. A low moan escapes his mouth, and then he brushes my hand aside to take hold of himself.
“Ready?” he asks, positioning the head at my entrance.
I don’t know if I nod or whimper or beg, but whatever sound comes out of my mouth must sound like assent, because he shoves upward with one swift motion until he’s seated to the hilt.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hisses through gritted teeth.
“And you’re damn big,” I croak, wriggling around on top of him.
He grabs my hips to hold me still and shallowly pumps into me. “Don’t move.”
“Can’t stop.” The friction feels so good. If I thought his fingers and tongue were magic, his dick is supernatural. I can feel him everywhere.
