Page 24 of 10 Things I Skate About You

KATE

“This better be good…” is what I say out loud. Meanwhile, my heart is melting at the sight of Adam’s pleading face and my clit is throbbing like there’s an angry ghost in there screaming,I told you orgasms with other people are a thing, you idiot! You made us wait ten years for this!

My brain still can’t process this beautiful, warm home Adam Foley lives in, much less how desperately he seems to want me. Maybe this is just what he’s like with the women he has sex with. That is a distinct possibility. But for tonight the woman he’s having sex with is me. And I’m going to let him give me another orgasm.

There. I admit it. It was him. I had the orgasm because of him at the restaurant, and most of the ones I gave myself for the past several years were because I was hate-vibing him.

“If it isn’t the best sex you’ve ever had,” he says as he rolls a condom onto his big, hot erection, “you have my permission to tell everyone all about it on your podcast.” He grins up at me. “But only if you tell them about how you came all over my hand first.”

I’m standing in front of him, by the sofa. Hands on my hips. Once again, opening my mouth to say something sassy, but nothing comes out. Because I’m realizing I have to take off my panties. And when I do, I will be completely naked. Just as Adam is completely naked. We’ve both been shielding ourselves with so many protective layers of banter and competitiveness and rage for such a long time. Even if this is just a one-timeget it out of our systemskind of thing, I don’t think we’ll ever be able to go back to shit-talking each other after I’ve cupped his balls and he’s seen my labia.

But here goes…

I let my hysterically-soaked panties drop to the floor and manage to keep from covering myself up. The hands go back to my hips, and I do my best to stand here like a goddess while Adam stares directly at my vagina with his mouth hanging open. “Yes, I’m a natural redhead.” I gesture up and down my torso. “It’s all real. Please stop staring.”

He shakes his head like a cartoon character who’s trying to snap out of it. But like one of those cartoon characters with a sharp jawline and cheekbones so prominent you could use them as a bookshelf. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop, baby. You’re a fucking stunner.” He stands up. His cock is so erect it doesn’t even bob around. It must be painfully hard.

My mouth is dry. Probably because all the moisture in my body has been pooling between my legs for hours. Dripping down my inner thighs right now, in fact. That’s a first.

Adam reaches for my shoulders and guides me to lie down on the sofa. Like he’s a painter, carefully positioning his nude model for a portrait. He adjusts a pillow behind my head, spreads my legs apart. “Hmmm.” He notices the arousal dripping down my leg. Calmly, he bends the leg that’s closest to the back of the sofa, places my other leg so my foot is on the floor. He climbs between them and dips down to lick upmy inner thigh. He follows the trail, all the way to its source. “Unreal,” he marvels. It’s so slick down there, but the feel of his tongue between my legs is outrageously good. Luxurious. “You are so ready for me.”

My legs are shaking.

Dear lord, all of me is shaking.

He kneels on his good knee, gripping the base of his cock with one hand and teases my clit with the head of it. I cover my face because why is that so hot? He positions himself at my entrance. “Hold on to my biceps, baby. Hold tight.” I do as he says, because why the fuck not. And then without any warning, he hitches my legs up to his hips and thrusts inside of me, all the way. We both cry out, and I am so glad neither of us can see my sex face right now, but I wish I could record the sound he just made. Now I can’t wait to hear him come. “So good,” he grits out. “So fucking tight.”

You fit so good, thoughis what I’d say if I could talk. I don’t know how he did that. It’s like he knew the exact angle and amount of thrust needed to penetrate me. I have an intuitive understanding of physics from figure skating, but he seems to have it for fucking.

I give his biceps a pat, silently letting him know I’ve accommodated him and he can start moving now. To really get him going, I say in my best Miranda Priestly voice, “Missionary position? For sex? Groundbreaking.”

“All right, sugar, you asked for it.”

And there’s the force and momentum we need to propel us into orgasm.

Adam pounds into me, stimulating yet more hard-to-reach places that I thought only the expensive sex toys were designed to reach. He has me singing a wordless aria and hitting high notes that I’ve never hit before. Jesus, the strength. The power. I am so mad that I’ve never been fucked like this before.

Just when he’s brought me to the brink with exemplary thrusting, he pulls out in an aggressive manner that I have thoughts on. But I forget what I was thinking when he flips me around, places my hands on the arm of the sofa, hikes my hips up until I’m on my knees, and enters me from behind. No notes. None! He winds my hair around one hand, tugging on it exactly the right amount to give me an erotic scalp massage. His other hand is gripping my hip as he rams into me. “Is this more to your liking, hot stuff?” he asks between pants.

“How’s your knee?” I ask. Genuinely concerned, but also being a brat.

Adam grunts, pulls out again, gets both of his feet on the floor, picks me up by my waist, and carries me over to the dining table in the next room. Solid 8.5 out of 10 for this move! I lay my stomach over the table and reach out to grip the edge of it. It’s another beautiful live-edge piece. In he goes again from behind!

He leans over me, holding on to my shoulders, pulling me into him as he thrusts. He’s panting now. I am honestly so impressed by his athleticism. He’s working so hard. I feel a bead of sweat drip onto my back. My entire body quakes when he drags his fingernails down my back. Not scratching me; his nails are short. It just feels so good. And then he slaps my ass again, and I clench around him.

He sucks in a sharp breath. Surely he’s going to come now. I’m ready to come again.

But he does the unthinkable.

He pulls out of me again, picks me up, and carries me in his arms. “What are you doing?!”

“I want you in my bed,” he growls. “It’s Valentine’s Day,” he adds.

“Oh, for crying out loud.”

“You’re about to,” he says.

He carries me down a hall, into a dimly-lit room. It smells like incense, which is yet another unexpected twist. I get placed gently down on a bed, on my back, head on a pillow. Climbing up and kneeling between my legs, he dips down to kiss me as he presses inside me. “Not a word about my knee, you hear me?”