Just One Moment (Just One Song #4) Page 6

  Every pump of my hand earns me a grunt for a reward, every slide of my lips a moan of pleasure.

  It's heady, and my body responds to every noise he makes. I lose myself in pleasing this muscled man, who is currently completely at my disposal.

  I glance up to see his cheeks flushed, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. His fingertips dig into my scalp, not pulling, not taking control, but enjoying what I'm giving him.

  Wetness soaks my panties while I watch him unravel in front of me, because of me.

  "Sarah," he groans and presses his hips into me. "I'm close."

  I moan my approval and remove my hand from his shaft, curling it around his balls. I massage them, pulling on them lightly.

  "Holy shit."

  He's close. So close. His hips arch into me faster in jerky, uncontrolled movements. I squeeze his balls harder and move my mouth faster, taking him deeper and swallowing when the tip of him hits the back of my throat.

  "I'm going to come," he groans, loosening his hold on my head.

  I give another hum, telling him to come, and with my free hand I fist his cock while I pump and squeeze and swallow. My eyes begin to water as he thickens in my mouth, and then he lets loose a garbled shout while he holds me against him, emptying himself down my throat.

  I take every drop that hits my tongue and continue swallowing until I feel him finish. Slowly, I glide my tongue around his length while I pull off and sit back on my heels.

  I look up at him and smile.

  He has a hand over his heart like he's trying to hold it inside his chest. His head has dropped back and his eyes are heavy-lidded when he drops his chin and looks down at me still on my knees.

  Our gazes meet and I flush under the heaviness in his expression. His features soften. I know it's from a really good—fantastic, even—blowjob, but his silent appraisal seems to speak more than a simple “thank you for sucking me off.”

  I take a deep breath and climb to my feet, grabbing his pants and handing them back to him while I sit down on the stool.

  I dig into the remains of my meal, quickly eating my cooling chicken while he dresses.

  "So, I wasn't trying to dig into your personal life," Lynx says once he's dressed and sitting back down on the barstool. "But I gotta say, that was a helluva lot more fun than listening to you talk about your family."

  I throw my head back and laugh, my eyes meeting his dark brown ones.

  He takes a sip of his beer and grins. "Although at least now I know how to get a blowjob when I need one."

  I roll my eyes playfully. "You don't need to ask about my family. You just need to ask for what you want. That's what this is for, right?"

  "Right." He clears his throat. "Eat up, then. You'll need your energy for what I have planned for you later."

  My stomach flutters with excitement, and my core begins to throb with anticipation.

  I shove a bite of the last rangoon into my mouth. "Sounds good to me," I say around a mouthful.

  Next to me, Lynx is still, and I can feel him watching me in that way I've caught him doing tonight.

  This shouldn't be weird.

  We're here for sex.

  Yet somehow I get the feeling he's changing the game we're playing.

  Only he's neglected to give me the new rules.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LYNX

  SARAH'S THIGHS TREMBLE in my grip as she rocks herself against my mouth. I've already gotten her off once with my fingers, priming her for more of the night. Damn if she isn't the most delicious thing I've ever put my mouth on.

  Sweet like berries and vanilla.

  I could eat her all day and never be full.

  "Lynx."

  I look up, seeing her beautiful small breasts bouncing away as she moves against my mouth. Her hands clamor at the wall behind my bed for purchase.

  She's so close. I love this moment—when a woman is about ready to come all over me and she begins to lose her mind just a little bit.

  I can feel it now with Sarah. The way her body moves frantically. The way her eyes are wide open, her lips parted as if she's in awe of what's about to happen.

  I want to make this the best ever for her.

  Because I wasn't kidding earlier. For the first time since I can remember, I actually want to get to know her better. Outside the bedroom.

  It should make me uncomfortable.

  It doesn't.

  It makes me want to rock this woman's world so hard that even if she thinks this is just going to be about sex, she won't be able to help herself from falling for me.

  I let go of one of her thighs with one of my hands and slide my fingers through her slickness. My tongue licks circles around her clit, alternating from hard and fast to soft and sweet. I learned in Vegas that this drives her out of her mind.

  "More," she moans, her breath scratchy and barely audible.

  "Come on, Sarah," I whisper against her sex.

  I press my fingers inside of her, hook them so I can rub along the front side of her, and then continue my assault.

  Her inner walls begin to clamp around my fingers. She drops a hand from the wall down to my head. It almost makes me wish I still had my long hair so she could give it a good fucking tug while I drive her crazy.

  Instead, her fingernails dig into my scalp. My already hard-as-a-rock cock hardens further at the movement.

  I'm so fucking hard I could break concrete.

  Her panting becomes wild, her hips begin to tremble, and just as she's about to come, I remove my fingers from inside her pussy and press them against the puckered ring of her backside.

  I don't enter. That's a conversation for another day. But I still know how sensitive that area is for women and just as I begin rubbing that area, my tongue does wicked things to her clit.

  Her fingers press against my head and she shouts my name as her entire body begins convulsing.

  "Lynx!"

  Best. Fucking. Sound. Ever.

  I groan against her quivering flesh, slowing down as I feel her body go lax above me.

  When I can hear her panting, feel the beat inside her against my tongue, I quickly grab her waist, pull her down and off me.

  I flip her over so she's on her back and reach for a condom.

  Sheathing myself, I squeeze the base of my cock to stop myself from coming too soon.

  "Lynx," she whispers, sliding her hands down my shoulders to my back.

  "Open up for me."

  She shakes her head. Her eyes glisten and I have to swallow sweet, sweet phrases she's so not ready to hear.

  Phrases like You are so beautiful. I want you with me all the time. You make things better.

  I bite my lip as our eyes meet. Her lips are plump and swollen and she licks them as I slide my cock through her wetness.

  "I can't do any more," she whispers, her pink lips stretching wide.

  "You can take more."

  She can.

  Her orgasm was powerful, and it was her second, but I've done this with her before. She can go all night.

  I give her another moment to let her heart rate calm down before I slide inside of her.

  Shit. She wraps up my dick in her tight warmth and I drop my head to her shoulder as I press in until I'm seated balls deep.

  "Fucking hell, you feel amazing," I whisper.

  I lave her shoulder and collarbone with kisses, tasting her with my tongue.

  I could come right this very second, if I let myself.

  No woman has ever felt this good.

  This made for my body.

  "Sarah." I get her attention and wait for her eyes to meet mine again before I begin moving.

  I rock against her slowly, reaching down and hitching one of her legs over my hips.

  It opens her up and I hit her deeper.

  The urge to drive my cock inside fast and hard is furious, but I force myself to take it slow.

  I want her to know what she does to me, what this makes me feel like.
/>   As I move, I whisper the things she does to me. The way she makes me feel. And I cloud them with carefulness so I don't scare her away. "Incredible...perfect...beautiful...so tight...amazing..."

  I repeat them over and over again as I pull out and push in, setting a calm but relentless pace.

  Her eyes close under my constant affirmation and mine do the same.

  Looking at her while I orgasm will bring me too close—closer than is safe right now.

  But I already envision, someday, us staring into each other's eyes as we come together, all wrapped up in each other from the inside out with nothing able to separate us.

  "Get there, honey," I moan. I'm so ready, but I refuse to go before her. My balls pull up tight and my lower spine begins to pound with the need to release.

  She whimpers my name, driving me wild.

  "Come on, Sarah," I encourage her and slide my hand from her hip in between us. My thumb begins rubbing her clit until she chants my name over and over.

  And when she clamps down tight around me, I slide my dick in one last time and release everything I have deep inside her.

  "Fucking perfection," I groan when I've caught my breath.

  "I know, right?" She's breathless and quiet.

  I drop my head to her cheek and kiss her heated skin while the remaining twinges of our orgasms subside.

  I roll off her, knowing the little thing can't bear my weight for too long, and pull her with me so I'm on my back and she's pressed to my side. She tightens against my hold, but I keep her against me until I feel her begin to relax. My other hand goes behind my head and I stare at the ceiling.

  This feels so damn good.

  So damn right.

  Not the sex.

  This relaxing together afterward. By now I'm usually tying a knot in the condom and looking for the quickest exit route, but I haven't done that with Sarah since the first night we were together in Vegas.

  I should have known then that this girl was different.

  I know it now.

  I just don't know how in the fuck I'm going to convince her.

  It bugged me earlier, when she wouldn't talk to me about her family. Not that the blowjob was a horrific experience. Sarah's one of the few women I've met who suck dick like they actually enjoy it instead of it being a chore. She totally gets into it, which makes the whole experience hotter and better than usual.

  But the fact that she used one to distract me still bothers me.

  I feel her tense next to me and I take a deep breath, holding her tighter against me. She's ready to leave. I'm not ready to let her go.

  "I have a kick-ass family," I tell her and feel her flinch next to me. Screw it. If she won't tell me about her family, I'm telling her about mine.

  "Lynx?"

  I ignore her. "My ma always wanted a houseful of kids, but she had some complications with Landon and me, so we're all she got stuck with. Since she couldn't have more kids, she became the neighborhood mom. Baked treats for every kid's birthday, went to as many sporting events as she could, even if they weren't for me or Landon. Our house was filled every day after school, goes back as long as I can remember, but since we grew up in a neighborhood where most parents had to work, and even then could barely afford daycare, my house became the place where everyone would hang out. Fucking loved that. Having so many people around me all the time."

  I turn to face her and see her eyebrows scrunched together. "Why are you telling me this?"

  I shrug. "My mom’s a firecracker. She’s tiny, but she doesn’t take shit and she enjoys every single thing life throws her away. You remind me of her sometimes.”

  I watch as Sarah swallows. For a moment I think I might have said too much, when she surprises the hell out of me.

  "Your mom sounds great," she finally says.

  "She is. My dad, too. He was in the army. Saw my mom a week before he shipped out for a two-year deployment and knew the second he laid eyes on her that she was it for him. Says he spent the week making her fall in love with him so she had no choice but to wait for him. My mom says he was a pain in her ass for a week and bugged the hell out of her."

  I laugh a little. My parents are fucking crazy. Always bickering. Always snapping at each other, and yet underneath all of that, there's always the love they have for one another. They get off on driving the other person crazy.

  Sarah's voice is soft, definitely curious, when she asks, "So she waited?"

  I nod and run the palm of my hand up and down her back in large, soothing circles. If I weren’t so fucking afraid of punching Sarah in the face while she slept, I'd want her to stay with me. This feels so damn fucking good—sex, crazy orgasms, and this after-sex talking I've never been interested in before.

  "Yup. Wrote him every day. He'd get piles of letters every few weeks where he was stationed in Germany, and then he'd write her back. They got married two months after he returned home, he opened a mechanic shop in Glen Ellyn, and a year later Landon and I were born."

  I feel her lips slide into a smile against my shoulder.

  "Sounds like a fairy tale."

  I snort. "If a fairy tale means lots of shouting and screaming and throwing plates and dust rags at each other, yeah. I don't even want to think about what all the loud sounds that came out of their bedroom at night were."

  I shiver while she laughs. A kid never needs to know how much his parents have sex. Or hear it. Yet mine went after each other all the damn time. As soon as we were old enough to know what in the hell was going on in their room, just down the hall from the bedroom Landon and I shared, we started sleeping with earphones in, listening to punk rock on our MP3 players.

  Now, I can look back and see how awesome it is.

  How much I'd love to have that someday.

  If only I wasn't so damn afraid of killing the person sleeping next to me.

  The thought makes me turn cold and I stiffen underneath her.

  "You okay?"

  "Yeah," I say, my voice suddenly thick and cold.

  What in the hell was I thinking? I can't do this to Sarah. I can't risk this. Just because the nightmares go away after we fuck doesn't mean they'll stay away if I feel something against me at night.

  I pull my arm out from beneath her and clear my throat.

  "You...uh...you should probably get going. It's getting late."

  I sit up without looking at Sarah. I don't want to see the expression on her face. She'll either be pleased I'm finally letting her go so we can keep this just about sex, or confused by my sudden shift.

  Either one will piss me off.

  "Yeah, right. Of course."

  The weight of the bed shifts as she rolls and then gets off on the other side. I stare at my slightly trembling hands in my lap while she gathers her clothes that I threw all over the place.

  When she gets to the top of my stairs—since my room isn't really a room, just a lofted sleeping space—I look up to see her turning back to look at me.

  She's still naked, a handful of clothes in her arms. Her blond hair is mussed from sex, and mascara runs beneath her eyes.

  She’s fucking gorgeous, and I like knowing I did that to her.

  I should feel pleased. Now, I just feel like an ass for playing with her.

  "You okay?" she asks, her lips turning into a frown.

  I stand up and slip into a pair of my boxers before walking toward her. "Yup. Never better. I'll walk you out once you get dressed."

  ***

  "Hey. What's gotten into you?" Landon asks with a punch to my shoulder.

  I scowl at him before sliding my phone onto my desk at the gym.

  A tiny blonde with big green eyes and her ability to avoid me for days has gotten into me.

  That and my own asshole behavior from Monday night.

  I'm still pissed I went from being so hot then cold with her before she left my loft. I could tell I'd confused her by talking about my family and then immediately kicking her out.

  I've tried telling my
self it doesn't matter. What Sarah and I agreed to is only sex. I was the one who tried to push for something that probably shouldn't happen in the first place.

  I scrub my head with my hands, jolting as the hair I haven't shaved all week tickles my palms.

  So why I'm trying to let my hair grow out for the first time in three years, all because I continue to wonder what it'd feel like for Sarah to grab onto it while I'm deep inside her, is a mystery.

  I've sent her two texts and she hasn't responded to either.

  It's been three days since we've had sex. I'm used to dry spells. I've gone months before, especially when I used to train for my own fights. Three days is nothing.

  It feels like fucking forever.

  "Nothing," I say to Landon and head to the ring where Rodney is cussing Grayson out.

  He's been distracted ever since we returned from Vegas, which is understandable considering the news dropped in his lap, but it's still pissing Rodney off. Our main trainer and coach, and owner of this gym, can be a total hard ass. He's respected because of it.

  The man gets results.

  I watch as he kicks Grayson out of the ring and Grayson heads toward the treadmill.

  I laugh and walk up to him just as he's sliding his earbuds into his ears.

  "What's he pissed at you for today?" I ask.

  Grayson flashes me a smug look, and I roll my eyes.

  "You gotta fight in two weeks, asshole. You're supposed to be abstaining."

  Grayson returns my eye roll and powers up the treadmill. "Fuck that shit. It was worth every mile, fucking guarantee it."

  I snort and walk away. Rodney can be a prick, but he also has a sixth sense for when one of his fighters has just gotten laid. The punishment is miles on the treadmill. Grayson fucking hates to run...apparently he likes Kennedy's snatch more.

  "You're a dumbass," I mutter.

  "I'm a man who's getting it regular and I'm not turning that away. Not now. Can you say the same?"

  He scolds me with his look while his feet start pounding out a punishing rhythm. Because that's Grayson. When he has to run, he doesn’t mess around. He goes balls to the wall on everything, which is what makes him such a kick-ass fighter.