Page 124 of First-Time Caller
She tears the wrapper with her teeth and rolls the condom over me.
“I can take it,” she whispers, and I have to think through the starting roster of the Orioles spring training team to keep myself from mindlessly rutting against her. My arms are shaking on either side of her head. I can feel my pulse at the small of my back. “Lucie,” I whisper, wanting the taste of her name on my tongue when I push into her. She hums and rubs her hands against my sides, opening her legs wider.
“Please,” she says, her voice sweeter than honey, and I let go of the last of my control. The final fragmented pieces of my resistance. I’ve been sitting next to her for weeks, hoping, wishing, wanting, and now she’s here, under me and all around me, saying please. I grip her thigh and watch her face as I slot myself against her, my hips pressing forward and rolling back, a little deeper each time. I have to work myself into her and she watches me while I do it.
“Look how well you take me,” I mumble, my voice low. She angles her head down to watch and makes a soft sound when I press all the way inside her, our hips flush together. “Look how good we fit.”
“I’m—” She exhales a sharp breath. “You’re—”
I nod, squeezing my eyes shut. It’s good. It’s so damn good. My scruff rasps against her neck. My fingers press bruises into her thigh. I’m not confident in my ability to move. “I know.”
I try rolling my hips and abruptly stop. Lucie shifts beneath me and I drag my teeth against the delicate skin above her collarbone to try to still her.
“This doesn’t feel rude at all,” she whispers into my ear. Her hand traces a meandering path down my spine, over my ass. She urges me forward. “This feels very nice, actually.”
“Nice.” I grunt it like it’s a curse, pulling back only to thrust back in hard. She makes a choked sound. A laugh caught halfway. “There’s that fucking word again.”
“Then show me something else,” she murmurs, head digging back into the cushions. The long line of her neck arches back and she looks like something from a painting. Like something in the stars. She rolls her hips against mine, working herself against my cock, and she looks like something from a filthy dream. “Stop holding back. Give me everything.”
“Yeah?”
She nods, hair caught beneath her. “Yeah.”
I rise to my knees and lift her hips, pressing my fingertips into her soft curves and holding her steady. “Come here,” I order, urging her legs to wrap around the small of my back. I thrust into her with a rough, dirty grind. “Make sure you tell me if it’s nice.”
Except I don’t give her a chance to say anything. Because my body has taken over the conversation, Lucie’s whimpers and moans and the high-pitched, breathy sigh she makes when she’s close filling the air between us until it feels like I’m underwater. Sand in my bones. Lightning under my skin. I work myself against her until my legs shake, one hand cupped around her ass to hold her tight to me and the other pressing low on her belly until she’s trembling as much as I am. I reach down with my thumb and curl it against that tender spot between her thighs and she arches against me, her shoulders digging into the cushions and her hips riding mine harder.
“Still nice?” I grind out. My knees are shaking where they dig into the couch cushions.
“So nice,” she moans. “The nicest.”
I laugh, breathless, and duck my head to suck a bruise between her breasts. “I should make you wait for it,” I mumble into her skin. I slow my hips and she whines. “That wouldn’t be nice, would it?”
She digs her nails into my arms. “I take it back. You’re not nice at all.”
I brush a kiss against her neck. Curl my hand around her jaw and catch her mouth with mine. I hold her there with a firm grip, making her watch me as I move against her. “No?”
“No.” She shakes her head and her eyes go heavy. “You’re really, very, terribly mean.” She slips her hand over mine between her legs and encourages me to press harder. My vision goes black at the edges.
I start to jerk my hips into her, losing any semblance of finesse. She watches me through half-lidded eyes as I fuck her down into the floor, my thumb strumming at the place above where we’re joined. Mindless nonsense begins spilling from my mouth. All the places I’ve thought about having her. How much I hate and love the thin white T-shirts she wears beneath her sweaters at the station. Something completely unhinged about her coveralls and wanting to undo the zipper with my teeth. How much I like her smile. Her laugh. The way she rasps my name. I’m out of control, unfiltered, driven higher with every broken sound she hiccups.
I know it the second before she starts to come. She goes still beneath me, a wordless exhale of my name through cherry-stained lips as her body squeezes around mine. I let myself fall into it—into her—several furious, frantic thrusts and a rough groan tucked against her throat.
I murmur her name when I come, sparks behind my eyes and in the palms of my hands where they’re pressed against her skin.
We lie there in the middle of the floor, panting. The couch cushions have separated and we’re wedged somewhere in the middle. Lucie drags her nails across my shoulders and I shiver. My legs are completely numb. My mouth is dry.
“You were right,” I say, slurring half the sentence.
Lucie drops a kiss to the top of my head. “About what?”
“That was nice.”
She snickers and pinches my side.
Pineapple pizza, as it turns out, is delicious.
Especially when consumed at room temperature with a naked Lucie pressed against my side.
