Page 109 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

“You.”

All the air rushes from my lungs, my cock threatening to go full mast.

“Darlin’, I need you to look at me.”

It takes her a couple of seconds, but when she finally does, there’s fire burning in her gray eyes.

Holy shit. This woman is everything.

“Roll over and get comfortable for me.”

I have no idea if she’ll go along with this, or if she’ll freak out. But I’m hoping that with me being at a distance, she might feel a little more comfortable.

“Calvin,” she rasps, and fuck, I can’t stop myself—I rip the towel from around my waist, letting my hard dick bounce against my abs.

“I’m…” I swallow. “I’m so fucking desperate for you, darlin’.”

She groans, and it hits me right in the dick.

“I’ve never met anyone I want as much as I want you.”

“Are you sure that’s not because I didn’t immediately jump at the opportunity to fuck you?”

“What? No. This has nothing to do with you turning me down. I’m glad you did.”

“It wasn’t too big a hit to your ego?”

“My ego can handle it.”

She holds my eyes, her smile finally having broken free.

Jesus. She’s so fucking beautiful.

It takes her a few more seconds, but eventually, she does as she’s told and rises from her stomach.

I can’t hold in my groan of delight when I get my first look at her braless tits hiding behind her tank.

“Calvin,” she warns, but there’s no strength behind it, just heat.

I watch, my eyes glued to her as she settles back against her cushions.

“Hey,” she says nervously once she’s comfortable.

“Hey, darlin’. Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are?”

That blush that was previously just hitting her cheeks now spreads down to her chest.

“And you’ve got the most incredible rack,” I tell her, my eyes fixated on the way her hard nipples press against the thin fabric. “I bet you’ve got the prettiest nipples, too. Look at them, teasing me.”

She whimpers, and I damn near lose it.

Reaching down, I wrap my hand around my dick, squeezing in the hope it dulls the ache there.

It doesn’t. If anything, it only makes it worse.

“I’m…Is this okay?” I ask quietly. “I don’t want to…” I let my sentence trail off, terrified that if I finish it, she’ll realize what’s happening right now and shut down.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “I-I’m sorry about⁠—”