Hot Shots 1: Test Shot

by Cari Quinn

  Until he shoved her back, angled up her ass, and forged his way inside.

  With one partial stroke, she was toast. She’d been on the verge of a climax before, and just the friction in the right place would’ve sent her over. Or it would’ve, had she not painfully snapped back to reality. “Condom,” she gasped.

  He jockeyed his hips and buried himself deeper. It wasn’t easy for him to move this way, but she didn’t care. God, he felt good, wedged in so tight. “You’re on the pill and just got out of a long-term relationship. I’m so clean I squeak.” He dragged his thumb over her clit, eliciting her raw, desperate moan. “Christ, I want to be bare inside you. But if you don’t want this—”

  He hauled in a breath and started to ease back. Her body mourned his loss even as her brain searched for sanity.

  “Wait. There was a gap, when I stopped taking the pill. A few weeks. It should be fine now.” She didn’t say the rest. Should be wasn’t a guarantee.

  He coasted his thumb over her clit once more, his eyes hot on hers in the candlelit semidarkness. Then he leaned up and cupped her face in his palm, drawing her lower lip between his teeth. With the slightest flex, he was inside her again, just enough to make her sex clutch around the tip of him.

  She rose up on her knees and sank on his stiff length, taking more. Taking all. He groaned, long and low, before anchoring a hand on her shoulder and guiding her up and down on his cock.

  This wasn’t the romantic sexual reunion she’d pictured, despite the candles. They weren’t in a silk-sheeted bed, and he wasn’t whispering sweet nothings. But along with the strike and sting of damp flesh, she could taste his urgency in his kisses and in the rough grasp of his hand on her jaw. His eyes never left hers, and their bodies rocked in a rhythm that took no thought and no coordination when she tumbled against his chest. He held her up with his unyielding thrusts.

  She was full of him, both in and out. Tasted him on her tongue, breathed in his scent with sharp inhale. She linked her fingers behind his neck and bowed into his thrusts, absorbing the blows of his body into hers with a kind of frantic joy she’d never known before. And when she came, it wasn’t so much a wild eruption as a moment of going underwater, a complete swamping of her senses.

  He lunged into her and held, his muscles drawing tight before relaxing as he surged into her one last time. His release blasted her channel, the warm pulses triggering more aftershocks. She wrapped her arms around him and cradled his head to her breasts.

  “Wow.”

  She smiled and shut her eyes. His lack of articulation after sex was so adorable. “I’ve never had sex without a condom. It’s unreal,” she said, only realizing once the words were out how bad her timing was. Condoms brought thoughts of Aidan, and the guy didn’t need a reminder of her ex, even peripherally, when his cock was still inside her. “Sorry,” she muttered.

  “Don’t be sorry. And don’t pretend it’s just about the lack of condom.”

  “I wasn’t. Just commenting.”

  “Uh-huh.” He feathered kisses over each closed eyelid. Her nose. The tender spot just below her ear. Romancing her without words. Or softening her up for his questions.

  “Sawyer?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you going to ask?”

  A sigh moved through him. “That obvious?”

  “Just a little.”

  “Okay. What happened with Aidan?”

  Wound around him, she hated to let go of the bliss of afterglow. But she owed him the truth, or as much of it as she could share without breaking Aidan’s confidence.

  “We just wanted different things. We grew apart, though neither of us could see it. He’s still my friend, and he’s always going to be part of my life.” He drew free of her body, and she shifted back until she could meet his troubled gaze. His brooding eyes had first attracted her—and his abs, definitely his abs—but she didn’t like contributing to his discontent. “Anyone who’s with me has to accept him too.”

  His cringe made her smile. “Do I get to keep my pants on when he’s over for dinner?”

  She giggled and slugged him lightly on the shoulder. “We’re just friends. No more having sex. No more threesomes with him watching.”

  “Sure he’s clear about that?”

  “Yeah. It’s crystal.” Thoughtfully, she rubbed where she’d hit him. “Besides, I have a feeling he’s going to be occupied soon enough with a new relationship of his own.”

  “He’s gay, isn’t he, Layla?”

  She tried to stem the jolt, but she wasn’t quick enough.

  He nodded when she didn’t reply. “I suspected he might be.” He caressed her arm and looked as if he wanted to say more. “You said Con’s hetero-flexible,” he added at her questioning glance.

  She had to laugh, until she caught his meaning. “Really? You think?”

  “Definitely something there. Would it weird you out?”

  “Aidan and Con?” She bit her lip and weighed the prospect in her mind. “No. I just want Aidan to be happy. Con’s a little bit of a manwhore, but Aidan probably will want to play the field after being tied down for so long.”

  “It didn’t bother you that he lied to you all that time?”

  “Of course it did. Even beyond what we were to each other, I believed he trusted me enough to be honest. But I know, in my heart, that he didn’t do anything for the purpose of causing me pain.”

  With effort, she forcibly relaxed her posture. She tensed every time she thought about the night she’d broken up with Aidan, though not as much as she once did.

  “Not saying he didn’t; just saying I know that wasn’t his intention,” she said, grateful Sawyer hadn’t rushed to fill the silence. “He’s had a lot to deal with, more than I ever knew.”

  “Do you want to play the field?”

  She didn’t snort at the question, but she wanted to. “I’ve never been the play-the-field type.” And I’m definitely not now.

  He smiled wryly. “Yeah, me neither. Sucks for us.”

  “Depends on your point of view, I guess.”

  “I always figured people played to find something great. I got lucky.”

  “I’d say we both did,” she said, trying to ignore the trembling in her belly. She was used to that sensation—and more—around him.

  He stroked the fourth finger on her left hand, leaving a pretty big clue as to his thoughts. “I know it’s going to take a while for you to move on. You were with Aidan a long time. You planned a life with him. And he hurt you badly. Over and over again.”

  “It wasn’t all his fault. There were things at play there long before he met me—” Hearing herself, she sighed. She’d encouraged Aidan to be honest, and she had to do the same. “Yes.”

  “I’m not trying to rush you. I just don’t know how to go back to the beginning.”

  Her lips twitched. “Well, we didn’t have a traditional start.”

  “No.” His measured gaze put the most wonderful pressure on her heart. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have a traditional middle. Not an end, because there won’t be one.”

  The tremble in her belly turned into a full-blown quake. Yet he looked so calm. So steady. “Sure you don’t write poetry in your spare time?”

  “With the way I fumble stuff? Nah.” He intertwined their fingers and curled them against her stomach. “We could pretend for the sake of convention, I suppose. Take the slow and careful route. Date for a couple of years, make sure we consider every possibility. Or we could take the risk that our guts are smarter than our heads.”

  “We’re already taking risks.”

  Again, that measured stare. “It’s not a risk if the most risky outcome’s exactly what you want.”

  Oh God. She pressed her free hand to her forehead. “I can’t even think when you look at me like that.”

  “It’s practically dark. How can you see what looks I’m giving you?”

  “I can. I feel them inside me.”

  “I’d say sorry, but yo
u do the same to me. And I’m willing to spend the rest of my life proving it to you. Or until you tell me to scram, whichever comes first.” His lightning-quick grin didn’t exactly help her addled state.

  “Like you’d get that lucky when I’m not even close to done with you.” Though she tried to sound lighthearted, she could tell from the way his grin softened she didn’t succeed.

  “So Con seems like a good guy. Unlike his asinine best friend, the pussy destroyer.”

  She giggled at his description of Drew, grateful for the topic shift. They wouldn’t get through the evening without discussing where they were headed—and truthfully she didn’t want to—but she needed just a little more time to wrap her mind around how spectacularly she was going to leap. “You’ve been hanging out with him again?”

  “A little.” He shrugged. “He gave me a push toward you, actually.”

  “He did? Really?”

  “Yeah. I think we may be friends now. Strange, huh?”

  “Not so strange. I’m glad you’re settling in,” she said, smudging her thumb over his cheek and the faint scratch that remained from his trip to the strip club with Drew. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Her world had unraveled that night, and she hadn’t completely figured out how to put it back together yet. But she was getting there.

  “There’s only one place I want to settle.” He gave her a lascivious eyebrow wiggle that made her laugh again. “Let’s go to bed.”

  * * * *

  He woke to the sensation of her tongue against his throat. Lapping gently. Nipping in between licks. His cock surged, already seeking her warmth. She laughed and rubbed against him, as sensuous as a witch’s familiar.

  “I’m thirsty, but I feel too good to move.” She leaned up and dipped her wicked tongue between his lips.

  “So you’re drinking me instead of going to the kitchen?” he managed between kisses.

  “Oh, I love drinking you.” She wrapped her hand around his cock and pulled upward in one long stroke. “Trust me on that.”

  “We’re going to be very bad for each other, in all the best ways.” He palmed her ass and marveled that he could sound so rational when he wanted to fist pump and shout his joy to the sky. When she started to cough, he rolled her off him and rose. “I’ll get your drink.”

  “Such a sweetie. Hurry back. I’ll keep the bed warm.”

  He didn’t look at her, because he wasn’t a masochist. Or maybe he was, since he couldn’t resist stealing a glimpse from the kitchen doorway. She looked sleepy and content, her luscious curves draped over the tangled sheets and her loose curls spilled across the pillow.

  Emotion clenched in his chest, and the words almost sprang to his lips. Somehow he held them back. He wanted the moment to be perfect, when he could look into her eyes and know she could feel his love.

  Yep, no doubt about it. He was the biggest lovesick jerk who ever lived.

  “Thirsty. Need liquid.” She dragged her fingers down her slit and lifted them to her lips. “Besides this,” she added with a chuckle.

  “Tease. I’m going.” Grinning, he headed into the kitchen.

  He found the glasses, then filled one with the lemon-lime soda in the fridge. Ice. He popped open the freezer and located the tray, along with something else he couldn’t ignore.

  “Nice,” he said under his breath as he drew out the long, bubbled-glass dildo. His grin reappeared. Damn, he was going to love life with this woman. Never knowing what he’d find in the fridge—food or sex toys.

  He carried his find and her drink back to the bed. She’d rolled over on her stomach and shot him a smile over her shoulder. Considering his gaze was fastened on her pert little ass, he almost missed it. “What’d you get me?” She started to turn over.

  “Uh-uh. Stay right where you are.”

  He handed her the soda, and she took it with a smirk. “Like this position, huh?”

  “I like every position you get into.” Lying beside her, he smoothed his hand up the column of her spine while she drank. The instant she set the drink aside, he pounced, parting her thighs. Her still-sticky thighs, he noted with satisfaction.

  “Whatcha doin’?” Her slurred question ended in a moan as he drew the cool glass over her warm flesh. “What is that?”

  “Like you don’t know.”

  She paused long enough to make him think she didn’t. Then she laughed, deep in her throat. “Oh hell, I left that in there?”

  “You sure did.” He razored his teeth over her earlobe. “Minx.”

  “I didn’t do it for that reason.”

  “Right.”

  “No, really.” Her laughter could’ve cured any number of the world’s ills. At least his. He couldn’t imagine ever being miserable when confronted with that sound of pure glee. “Last month during Indian summer, the A/C wasn’t working, and I froze that so that I could—”

  “Come repeatedly until you didn’t notice the heat?”

  “Ass.” She shifted closer until they were nose to nose. Both grinning. And both moaning when he slid the dildo in deeper, his fingers following the bubbles to heat them just before they breached her opening.

  She opened her mouth to say something, but all she managed was a breath that stuttered as she hauled it into her lungs. She scraped her nails up the underside of his arm, her eyes going wide. “Sawyer.”

  He gave her two more bubbles. Her hips jerked up, that magnificent ass bouncing, and he didn’t temper the impulse to lean down and bite the fullness of one cheek. She whimpered and wiggled, inadvertently driving the toy deeper. Then deeper still when he couldn’t wait anymore.

  “Gonna make you come so hard you think it’s the Fourth of July, baby.” He gripped the cold staff and began pumping it in and out of her sodden pussy, using his other hand to pinch and stroke her chilled flesh.

  She dug her toes into the mattress and wriggled her hips. Her responsiveness was one of the things he loved most about her. She was always so eager, so ready to try anything.

  When he pulled the toy out, she released a long moan, only stilling when he laid his hand in the small of her back. He soon found a new place for her dildo, slipping the first couple of bubbles, slick with her arousal, into the quivering pink hole between her cheeks.

  “Rub your pussy,” he said, voice low and tight with need.

  Without hesitation, she did as he asked, her long fingers probing her slit. She sought her pleasure with such abandon. Her breasts rasped over the sheets, and she clutched his arm so hard he expected her to draw blood. She moaned, more breath than volume, at the sensation of the glass beads sinking deeper into her ass, apparently as riveted by the feeling as he was by the sight.

  “I can smell how hot you are. Christ, you’re so sexy.” He practically growled.

  Goddamn, he had to get some relief himself or he was going to shoot off too soon yet again. He switched hands and fumbled for his rigid cock, pumping it in slow pulls while she ate him up with her eyes and pleasured herself.

  “I made myself come looking at you.” She lowered her voice as if she were going to confession. “When I was in bed next to Aidan, the night before we met. I never told you.”

  It took his brain a minute to catch up, since most of his blood had rerouted to his dick. He grabbed her wrist. “Hold it, Nebraska. What?”

  “That’s why he pushed me for the threesome. Because he knew I’d gotten off looking at your face.” A smile tipped up her puffy mouth. They’d kissed so much that his lips felt swollen too. “And the rest of you.”

  “You masturbated to my picture,” he repeated, sure he’d missed something.

  “Yes. With my vibrator.”

  “Next to Aidan.”

  “Yeah.” She dropped her gaze. “It was a shitty thing to do, but we weren’t having sex anymore and God, your body’s like an interactive porno even when it’s not moving.” He grinned, but she continued. “I kept hearing your voice in my head, all the ma’am’s you threw at me to fuck with me, and your accent, faint as it
was. I could’ve come without even touching myself, I was that hot for you. And he knew it. He asked me about the threesome that night.”

  “So if he hadn’t caught you, we might never have happened.”

  “No. We wouldn’t have. I never would’ve suggested it, and he wouldn’t have known about you, other than me mentioning wanting to work with you. That’s how he connected your photos to our interview at the agency.”

  Picturing her in her bed with her toy lodged in her sweet pussy while she fantasized about him… Christ. He could barely breathe. “I never knew girls jerked off to photos.”

  “I never had before. You overwhelmed me.”

  “Yeah. Think I get that. Considering just your voice made me want to snatch you through the phone and fuck you brainless.”

  “Really?” she asked, her pleasure evident.

  “Hell yeah. And speaking of fucking”—he released her wrist—“please continue.”

  “As you wish.” She rubbed slowly, driving him out of his mind, then faster, gaining speed when he started to pant. “My favorite fireworks,” she said, strumming her fingers up and down her cleft, “are the big finale at the end. All the rockets going off at once.”

  She reached back to take control of the dildo so he could grip his shaft in both hands. He slid his length between his palms while she worked herself like a pro. It was hard to tell which of them had less control of their movements. Or their breathing.

  “You like things that explode?” he questioned, jerking his cock hard. It was a cheesy question worthy of one of Drew’s pornos, but she played along.

  “Yes.” Her gaze centered between his legs. “Especially inside of me.”

  He rolled onto his knees, and she tossed aside the dildo. Then she rolled over and spread her legs, revealing her swollen pink slit while she smiled and held out a hand. “Come on in.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She threw back her head and laughed, and he laughed too until there wasn’t anything funny anymore. Suddenly he got how important this moment was. They weren’t just screwing around. She was it for him. And by God, he wanted to be her it as well.

  His hand wasn’t steady as he fed her his cock, an inch at a time. He pushed all the way in and held, finally accepting her outstretched hand and bringing it to his lips.