"I love this spot, right here," I tap his hips with my thumbs and smile sa.s.sily at him. "Let's keep this."

He chuckles at me. "I'll do my best. Let's rinse you."

He shifts me under the water, and watches with fascination as the suds slide down my body. He's stopped touching me, and is just watching my body's reaction to the water and to him.

My eyes trail down his firm body, his flat stomach, a small patch of dark hair, and the most impressive, fully erect p.e.n.i.s I've ever seen. I take him in my hand and move up and down the length in two long, slow strokes.

"s.h.i.t," he sucks air in through his clenched teeth and I grin as I sink to my knees, and lick the tip of him, slowly, softly, teasingly. I cup his b.a.l.l.s in my hand, and hold the base of his c.o.c.k in the other and sink down onto him, sucking and licking as I go. When he hits the back of my throat, I pull up and repeat the motion, slightly speeding up.

His fingers tangle in my hair and I speed up, jacking him with my hand.

"f.u.c.k, I love your mouth," he mutters. He's panting, slightly thrusting his hips against me. "Don't make me come in your mouth."

I smile to myself. h.e.l.l, yes, I'll make you come in my mouth!

I move faster, harder. Suddenly, Will lifts me to my feet and kisses me hard and deep. He's gripping my shoulders hard, his kiss is desperate.

"I haven't been inside you in seventy-two hours, Megan. I'm not coming in your sweet mouth." He spins me to face the shower wall. "Hands on the wall."

He pulls my hips back and pushes his fingers through my folds to my c.l.i.t. I gasp when he brushes my metal.

"Oh, Will."

"That's right. This is mine, Megan. Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

He pushes two fingers inside me and twists them, then pulls them out to wet my already swollen lips.

"So wet," he mutters.

"Will?"

"Yes, love."

A chill runs up my spine at that word and I grin.

"I really need you inside me."

"I'll get there, babe. G.o.d, you feel good."

"I'll feel better when you're inside me."

I hear him chuckle, and then we both gasp when the head of his c.o.c.k brushes my s.e.x. He gently pushes in, all the way.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh G.o.d, yes. More than okay."

"This is going to be rough, honey." His voice is tight as he starts to move, really move, frantically. He grabs my hair in one fist and slaps my a.s.s with the other, startling me. "G.o.d, you're so f.u.c.king good."

"Oh my G.o.d, Will!"

He pulls out suddenly and spins me to face him, plants his hands on my a.s.s and lifts me against the wall. I wrap my arms and legs around him, but he takes my hands and holds them both above my head with one of his, leans into me, and buries himself inside me again.

"So good," he mutters and pins me with his bright blue eyes. "Mine," he repeats and then buries his face in my neck, kissing and biting and I feel my o.r.g.a.s.m pushing up through me.

My legs tense and I push against Will's hands, but he holds strong.

"That's right, let go," he commands, and I do, hard and fast, spasming around his beautiful c.o.c.k.

"Ah f.u.c.k!" His jaw is clenched and he throws his head back and falls over the edge with me.

He rests his forehead against mine as we recover. "Do you work today?"

"No."

"Good. You're staying here with me, all day and night."

"Good plan."

Chapter Thirteen.

"Is this really what you want to do all day?" I ask, lounging at the end of his couch. I'm in one of his old team jerseys and his boxer-briefs, since I don't have any clothes here, and my hair is up in a knot on my head, no makeup.

Dear G.o.d, I must look horrific.

I glance over at Will, on the opposite side of the long, plush black leather couch. It's really unfair that he looks so good in just basketball shorts and an old t-shirt.

"Why, is there somewhere you wanted to go?" he asks and flips through channels on his uber-huge television. We are in his media room, full of plush furniture, the outrageously enormous television a dear G.o.d, is he blind? Who needs a TV this big? a football memorabilia, a wet bar, a pool table. Basically a big ol' man cave where boys can hang out and do boy things.

"No, I'm just surprised." I lean back and plop my feet in his lap, getting more comfortable. He immediately wraps one big hand around the arch of my foot and rubs with his thumb and I sigh in contentment.

"It's nice to relax once in a while. We haven't really just hung out together much." He offers me a soft smile, and my stomach flips, just a little. Gosh, he's pretty to look at.

And he's right. It feels good to be lazy. I'm still super tired from last night at work, and just lounging in Will's extraordinary home with him all day is relaxing and perfect.

"Are we okay," he murmurs, drawing my attention. His eyes are sober, and he's watching me closely.

I turn my head to the side and offer him a half smile. "Yeah, we're okay."

He just nods and flips the channels to a show about whales on the Discovery channel.

"I'm hungry," he announces.

"You're always hungry," I laugh and kick his thigh gently. "You just had a huge sandwich an hour ago."

"Let's order in pizza."

"Let's go get the pizza and bring it back," I suggest.

"I like having you here, in my jersey, in my house, where I don't have to share you and you don't have to share me and we can just be."

"Be what?" I ask.

"Us." He pulls me into his lap and kisses me senseless, plunging his fingers into my hair and moving those amazing lips over mine. Then, just as suddenly as he started, he pushes me back onto the couch and reaches for his phone. "I'm calling for pizza."

"You are such a f.u.c.king cheater!" Will is glaring at me from his position on the floor, his back against the couch, xBox controller in his hands. G.o.d, he's adorable when he's irritated with me.

"I am not!"

"All you're doing is pushing all the b.u.t.tons at once and waving the controller all about," he accuses me. He's right. I have no idea how to play this s.h.i.t, and making him crazy is hilarious.

"It's called strategy, Mr. Football Star." I bat my eyelashes at him and laugh as his scowl deepens.

"You've never played this, have you?"

"Madden Two Thousand Thirty-Four? No."

"It's Madden 2013, smart a.s.s." Now he's laughing at me. G.o.d, he's fun.

"I'm still kicking your Seattle a.s.s. The guy with your name on the jersey looks nothing like you, by the way." I pick up my soda and sip from the straw. We are surrounded by junk food. Pizza boxes, chip bags, cookie containers, you name it. It looks like a twelve-year-old's birthday party exploded in here.

It's f.u.c.king fun as h.e.l.l.

"It's a video game, babe, not a music video."

I throw a chip at him, hitting him in the head, and he turns to glare at me. "Did you just hit me in the head with a freaking Dorito?"

"No." I shake my head innocently and back up on the couch as he lays the controller on the coffee table and turns to me.

"Liar."

"You deserved it, smart a.s.s."

"I know what you deserve." He kneels in front of me, grabs my hands and pulls me toward him and then in one swift move, pulls his jersey up over my head. "I don't think you can borrow this anymore."

"Fine." I lean back against the couch again and cross my arms over my naked chest, covering up my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Will's lips twitch but he holds his smile back and gives me a mock-glare and grips his black shorts at my hips and yanks them down my legs and throws them over his left shoulder.

I think they land in the salsa.

"Those are mine, too," he murmurs, his eyes gla.s.sing over as he sweeps his gaze from my face down my body.

I move to cross my legs, but he holds them still, hands on my thighs, and pushes himself up between them so his pelvis rests against my own and his lips are inches from my face.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asks softly.

I shrug, my smart mouth having suddenly left me, and just stare up into Will's sea-blue eyes.

"So beautiful," he murmurs and kisses my forehead, my nose, over to my dimple. "I love this dimple. Makes you look so innocent." He smiles against my cheek and kisses it again. "Of course, I know differently."

I chuckle and slide my hands up under his t-shirt, over the smooth muscles of his back. "Get naked."

"I will." He kisses his way over to my neck and runs his hand down my face to my breast to tease my nipple. I suck in a breath and squirm beneath him.

"Naked," I repeat but he just chuckles and keeps up the torment, running those hands over my body, those lips down my throat to continue the torture of my nipples. Oh dear G.o.d, that feels good.

"Your skin is so d.a.m.n soft." He's on his knees again, kissing down my stomach to my navel where he pays special attention. He grips my hips in his hands, holding onto me, and bites and kisses my stomach, brushes his nose over it, and then kisses it some more.

Jesus, when did my stomach become an erogenous zone?

He suddenly jerks me to the edge of the couch and pushes my thighs wider apart and sits back on his heels, just looking at me.

"So d.a.m.n beautiful," he repeats. He raises his hand to my face, his eyes on mine, and runs the backs of his fingers down my cheek, brushes my lower lip with his thumb, and then traces the pad of his index finger down the hollow of my throat, down my sternum, my stomach, over my navel and my pubis.

I can't move. I'm completely in his trance. For G.o.dsake, we went from me playfully cheating my a.s.s off on a video game to intense s.e.xual tension in the matter of seconds.

Suddenly, he turns around and fishes an ice cube out of an empty soda gla.s.s and pushes it into his mouth. His eyes smile up at me before he lowers his head, and very gently, places a kiss right on my metal. His cold lips send a zing through my core and I raise my hips in response.

"Holy s.h.i.t, that's cold!"

He chuckles and does it again, but this time he slides down, hollows his cheeks and sucks my lips into his mouth with the cold ice and I about come apart. I grip his hair in my fists and hold him to me but he backs out of my grasp and shakes his head.

"Grip the back of the couch with your hands, babe."

Huh?

"Why?"

"This is going to get intense for you, and it'll be even more so if you can't touch me." He gently caresses my thigh with his hand. "Trust me."

I do.

So I grab the couch above my head and watch him. He smiles rea.s.suringly and kisses my thigh, then fishes out another ice cube, but instead of pushing it into his mouth, he spreads my l.a.b.i.a with one hand and, eyes on mine, guides the ice from my a.n.u.s, through my folds, and up to my c.l.i.t.

"Watch this, Megan."

When he reaches my piercing, he hangs out there, circling the metal over and over, making it so d.a.m.n f.u.c.king cold, and then pushes it down against my already over-stimulated nub and my hips come up off the couch. He pushes me back down firmly and gives my c.l.i.t a reprieve, guiding the ice back down through my lips.

"I love this pink p.u.s.s.y," he murmurs, his eyes full of longing and l.u.s.t.