PMU Boxset 2

by MacMillan, Jerica

  She squirmed some more, so he gave in and let his tongue wander over her clit before resuming his slow circles and long flat strokes of his tongue. Spearing his tongue into her opening, he tongue-fucked her until her hands landed on his head, trying to pull him higher, but she couldn’t get a grip on his close-cropped hair. He resisted a second or two longer, just to make her that much more frustrated. And the sound she made when he finally gave in made it worth it—a long, low sigh that had her hands relaxing onto the counter again in pleasure before her fingers tightened on the edge once more as he drove her higher, closer to the edge.

  Normally he’d sink his fingers inside her now, but she was bucking her hips so much that it took both hands to hold her down, keep her steady for the onslaught of his tongue and lips. The tendons in her thighs popped as her muscles strained, her legs trying to clamp around his head, his tongue working her clit hard. Her breath came faster, little moans on every exhale, her hands gripping his arms and shoulders, seeming to want to push him away and hold him close at the same time. With a shudder and a moan, her legs twitching under his hands, she came, her head banging back against the cabinets and her nails digging into his skin hard enough that he wondered if she’d draw blood.

  Slowing, he licked her a few more times, enjoying the way her body jumped as he pushed her past pleasure into hypersensitivity. Her hands on his shoulders pushed at him, the message clear. With one last stroke of his tongue, he stood and gathered her against him, wanting to sink inside her here and now. But he hadn’t brought a condom into the kitchen, not expecting this to happen so soon after putting the first batch of cookies in the oven.

  The cookies. He became aware that the microwave was beeping, the timer going off, and had been beeping for a while now. And the sweet smell of baking cookies was starting to get the acrid edge of something burning.

  “Shit. The cookies.”

  Turning, he grabbed a pot holder and yanked the baking sheet out of the oven, setting it on the stove. The dark brown color of the cookies made it hard to tell, but the edges looked distinctly black.

  Elena pressed up against him from behind, her arms going around his waist and her head poking out under his arm to look at the cookies. She laughed. “Oh, well. We can finish baking the cookies when we’re less distracted.”

  He swiveled around, pulling her against him. “You’re very distracting. But you’re my favorite kind of distraction.”

  “Mm. You’re my favorite distraction too.” Something in her tone when she said that made him look at her more closely, but she wouldn’t let him, brushing kisses against his chest and her hand cupping his balls before stroking his still-hard cock. “Someone seems like they need some more distracting.”

  And if that was what she meant by distraction, then yes, he definitely needed more. “Couch. I want you to ride me.”

  With a quick detour to his bedroom, he grabbed a condom, ripping it open and rolling it on while he walked to the couch, not caring where the wrapper landed. Leaning down, he braced himself over Elena with one hand on the back of the couch behind her head and the other on the arm, kissing her thoroughly. Her hands traveled up his chest, wrapping behind his neck, pulling him as close as she could, but he held himself firm, not ready to relinquish the kiss yet.

  Kissing his way down her neck, he wrapped his lips around one of those perfect nipples, sucking hard as he flicked his tongue over the tip, a lot like the way he sucked on her clit. The analyzer in him enjoyed the different but equally intense reactions the same action provoked on two different body parts.

  She arched into him, and he pulled back, tugging on her nipple until it popped out of his mouth. Repeating the action on the other side, her hands scrabbled at his shoulders and biceps, uttering breathless sounds, a mixture of English and Spanish that he didn’t understand, but trying to convince him to press their bodies together. He loved when he reduced her to Spanglish.

  “Please. Dios, por favor. I want you inside me.”

  And those were the magic words. With a growl, he gripped her hips, pulling her onto his lap as he sat down. “C’mon, baby. Climb on.”

  Lifting up, she reached down between them, lining him up, then she sank down all the way in one long, hot slide. His head fell back against the top of the cushions behind him, his jaw clenching, his hips flexing up without thought. She gasped. He could fall in love with her sounds.

  He held himself still after that one thrust, even though everything in him screamed to hold onto her hips and pump himself up into her hard and fast. But he didn’t give in. Waiting for her to move, he wanted to let her set the pace for the first time since they’d started this relationship, such as it was. He’d always taken over, which she hadn’t objected to, but he wanted her to be the one in control, wanting her to take what she needed and show him how much she wanted it in the process.

  After what felt like forever, she rolled her hips. Then again. He opened his eyes, and the gleam in hers told him she was teasing on purpose. He growled, running his hands up and down her back. She moved again, just as slow as before, only rolling and grinding, not moving up and down at all.

  With his hands behind her shoulder blades, he pressed her toward him, deciding he’d take advantage of her lack of bouncing for now by tonguing her nipples some more. Her back arched, pressing herself further into his mouth once he made contact, and her hips bucked. He made tight circles around the point of her nipple with his tongue, and her hips bucked again. Sucking provoked a different movement, and he alternated what he did to her breasts, holding them steady with his hands now, causing her movements to change from her reactions to him.

  When she couldn’t take it anymore, she lifted a little, slamming back down on him, driving him in deep. He pulled his head back from her chest, her nipples now shiny and harder than ever, watching her move on him. She slowed, looking down at him, but with his hands on her hips, he encouraged her to keep going. “Yeah, baby. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

  She lifted higher, slow, until he was barely inside her, dropping her weight again when she reached the top. He thrust up into her this time, and she gasped at the force of their hips coming together. On the next downstroke, he held her in place for a beat, grinding her against him. The next time she did it herself, her eyes heavy-lidded with enjoyment.

  “Oh God,” she said the next time. Their pace slowly picked up, still the long slide up, the quick drop, her grinding into his upward thrust. Thank God she looked close, because he didn’t know how long he could last like this. He was determined that he wouldn’t come until she did, though, so he started working differential equations in his head to distract himself.

  It didn’t work very well, the sight of her tits bouncing in his face every bit as fantastic as he’d imagined, pulling him back into the moment and out of complex math problems, propelling him closer to orgasm with the feel of her wrapped all around him, his cock driving deep inside her.

  Good God. Maybe he could focus on simple algebra. Solve for x. Um, fuck. No. He couldn’t even come up with something. Multiplication tables might help. Two times two is four. Two times three is six.

  Her pussy gripped his cock, so tight and snug, he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of it.

  Where was he? Shit. He couldn’t think. Not with her on his lap like this. He thrust into her stronger than before, grinding her hard against him, his hands now directing the movements of her hips. He couldn’t hold back anymore, couldn’t distract himself. If he came first he’d get her off some other way. This was just too much. He couldn’t take it.

  Slamming her down again, grinding her pelvis against his, her pussy started contracting around his cock, her head thrown back and her thighs squeezing against him as she came. Thank Christ. And that was all it took to send him barreling over the edge too, all his muscles contracting as he held her against him, then thrust once more as he spilled into the condom, buried as deep inside her as he could get.

  She fell against him, her head landing o
n his shoulder as he relaxed back into the couch, feeling like he could melt into it, become one with the furniture, his body limp and sated. Stroking her back, he turned his head to kiss her temple.

  She slid off his lap a few minutes later, and he brushed a kiss on her lips before going to deal with the condom. When he came back out, she was getting dressed again. He made a pouty face—he’d been hoping for some naked cuddling—and she laughed at him.

  “I’m not going to finish making cookies naked. C’mon. Put your shorts on at least.”

  “Alright, fine.” He snatched the shorts out of the air when she tossed them to him, heading into the kitchen to deal with the mess he’d made of the first batch of cookies and bake the rest.

  Elena grabbed a spoon out of a drawer, having been there enough times to know where they were, and helped herself to a heaping scoop of dough, popping it into her mouth. He gave her a mock-stern glare before pulling her second spoonful of dough to his own mouth.

  “Hey!”

  He grinned. “Sharing is caring, right?”

  “Whatever,” she grumbled as she got herself another spoonful. “These are going to be really good cookies if you can manage not to burn them.”

  He shot her a look. “Yeah. Don’t distract me this time, and I won’t.” Her lips curved into a smile around her spoon.

  She had this wicked, playful side that he didn’t get to see very often. And he loved it when this side of her came out. Especially since she didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave after sex this time like she usually did. He’d only gotten her to stick around one other time before. Maybe this meant she was becoming more open to them being more than just a convenient hook-up.

  The last time he’d asked her to do something outside of his apartment, she’d said, “Look. I like you. I have fun with you. But I don’t have time for a boyfriend.”

  He’d blinked at her and said, “Oh, okay,” like a moron. She’d gone home less than five minutes later. That had been three weeks ago. But she’d stayed after sex last week, and again today. Would she reconsider if he asked her to do something else now?

  Avoiding her gaze, he focused on scraping the burned cookies into the trash can and washing the cookie sheet while the oven heated up again. He’d had the presence of mind to turn it off, apparently, though he had no memory of doing so. Or maybe Elena had. At least they hadn’t burned the apartment down.

  “So we have another home game next weekend.”

  “Cool.”

  He chanced a glance at her, but she was looking at the bowl as she scooped up another spoonful of dough. “You should come.” Asking her to do things hadn’t worked out in his favor so far, so maybe if he told her what to do he might get somewhere. Worth a try, at least.

  “Why?”

  This time when he looked at her, her eyes bored into him like laser beams trying to burn a path through his skull. “It’d be fun. It’s homecoming. Did you even know that?”

  She seemed to think for a second. “Yeah, I guess I did see something about that.” Shrug. “I’ve never cared about homecoming before, though. Why should I now?”

  He mimicked her shrug, focusing his attention on scooping uniform balls of dough spaced apart evenly on all sides. “It’s your senior year. Part of the college experience, right?”

  She snorted, and he looked up to find her caught between glaring at him and laughing. “Bring your roommates. And their friends if they’re around. The guys all used to play for us. I bet you’d all have fun.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she examined him for a minute. “And what do you get out of it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why do you want me there? What’s in it for you?”

  He looked back at the cookie dough, scooping the final few balls onto the sheet and turning to place it in the oven. “Nothing, really. But if you wanted to hang out after, we could.”

  “I don’t have to go to the game to do that.”

  “True. But it’d be easier to meet up for the after-game party if you were at the game.”

  When he turned back around she was still staring at him the same way she had been the last time he looked at her. She heaved out a sigh. “Fine. It seems like it’s important to you that I come to a game. So I’ll come. And I’ll make Hannah and Matt come with me, at least. They’ll probably invite the rest of their friends too. We’ll have our own little party during the game.”

  He grinned at her deadpan tone. “Don’t sound so excited.”

  She finally broke and gave him a smile. “I’m not big into football. And since my dad’s head injury …”

  She trailed off, and he gave her a quizzical look. “What does your dad’s accident have to do with football?”

  Shaking her head, she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Nothing, really. Just that football players have a high risk of head injuries, too. I don’t like watching people bash their own heads in.”

  A chuckle leaked out, but he bit it back when she glared at him for real. “I’m sorry. It’s not like that, I promise. It’s not like guys are getting clobbered over the head every game or anything. I mean, yeah, sometimes you get your bell rung, but it’s really not that big of a deal most of the time. You walk it off and keep playing.”

  Her eyes still looked troubled, so he stepped closer to her, tipping her chin up so she would look at him. “You’ll have fun. I promise.”

  “Okay.” Her answer was little more than a whisper, but it had his heart lifting with happiness. Maybe he was getting closer to making her his girl for real.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “What up, bitches?” Megan’s voice rang through the house, announcing her arrival, Lance and Abby snickering as they followed her inside. The sounds of the additional people reached Elena in the kitchen, where she dumped a bag of chips into a bowl.

  Hannah shot her a smile and raised her eyebrows, a silent What can you do? before heading into the living room to greet their guests.

  The Thursday night football pregame show was already on, but muted, since Matt found the announcers annoying and would argue with every other statement they made. Which he’d been doing a half hour ago until Hannah went into the living room, muted the TV, and told him to help clean up the house before everyone got there. “But they used to live here,” he’d protested. “They don’t care what the place looks like. They’ve all seen it look way worse than this.”

  “I don’t care, Matt. They’re guests, and we’re not having the house look like a sty. Quit arguing with people who can’t hear you and make yourself useful.”

  He’d muttered to himself while moving his laptop from the coffee table to his office, but had quieted down by the time he came into the kitchen to take out the trash before everyone got there. Elena’d had to hide a smile at how obedient he became when Hannah told him what to do. But she kept a tight rein on the urge to make a whip sound as he went outside to put the half-full bag in the big trash can.

  With a deep breath, she steeled herself to go in the living room. It had been Matt’s idea to have everyone over. Chris’s team was playing tonight, and he was expected to make an appearance on the field. Apparently he didn’t every game. She had no clue how all that worked. Maybe she should pay attention tonight, though, so she had some idea of what was going on at the homecoming game next weekend. Lance and Matt were both friendly, and she figured they’d answer her questions. Since they both used to play, who better to learn from?

  Thinking about football and homecoming brought her mind to Daniel. Not that it took much for him to come up in her thoughts. She’d debated asking him to come over tonight. He was friends with everyone here, too. It’d be like a reunion of the group from their trip, minus Chris, of course, who’d only be there through the TV screen while he was playing.

  But she’d waffled too long, and now it was too late. With a glance at the clock, she realized he wasn’t even done for the day yet. And he’d have homework. And need a better meal than chips and dip and the junk food they
were having tonight. And everyone would think they were together, instead of just friends.

  And they were just friends. Firmly in the friends category. With a few side benefits, of course. But they weren’t dating. He wasn’t her boyfriend. She didn’t have time or space for a boyfriend right now. He provided a distraction from all the other crap when she needed a vacation from her brain.

  “Elena? Are you going to come say hi to everyone or hide in the kitchen all night?”

  Hannah’s smiling face had popped through the doorway while Elena had been lost in thought.

  Now she forced her lips into a smile in return. “Of course! I was just finishing up.” Tossing the spoon in her hand into the sink, she grabbed the chips and dip and brought them into the living room, where she was greeted by a shout of general cheer at her appearance and a smile from Abby. Man, Matt’s friends were a rowdy crew, and he was a lot louder when they were around.

  Lance slung an arm around her shoulders and gave a little squeeze. “Hey, Elena. Good to see you.”

  “You too.”

  As soon as he let go, Megan swooped in and squeezed her hard in her signature hug. “I haven’t seen you in so long! Thanks for having us all over!”

  Elena laughed at Megan’s enthusiasm. “It was Matt’s idea. Thank him.”

  Megan dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “Don’t give him too much credit. He’ll get a big head. We need to keep it under control, or he won’t fit in the house.”

  “Hey!” Matt protested.

  Megan shot him a sassy grin and stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m kidding. You know I love you, Matty. But I live by myself now, so I don’t get to give anyone shit.” She let out a drawn-out sigh. “It gets boring.”

  “You can’t be that bored, Megan,” Lance cut in. “You spend all your time at our place when you’re not in your art studio. I’m surprised you didn’t try to move in with us.”

  Her face straight, Megan looked him in the eye. “I didn’t know you were into that, Lance.” Then to Abby, “You up for a sister wife?”