Stand and Defend (Lakes Hockey, #4)

by Sloane St. James

I ease in and out, and it’s agony for both of us. With a patronizing voice, I mock, “What’s the matter, baby? You want to come, is that it? Are you so tense you can hardly stand it?” I add pressure to her clit, level my eyes with her and growl, “Tell me you've felt this with another man. Lie to me, I dare you. I can feel your pussy trying to suffocate me. You fucking love this.” She stills. “Admit I’m your type, and I’ll make you feel so good.” She swallows and shakes her head. That pisses me off. Why won’t she say it? We are great together. “It’s not up to you anymore.” If she won’t accept I’m her type, I’ll prove it to her with the best orgasm she’s ever had. I let my fingers work her clit the way she needs to get off. I know what she likes; I’ve studied her body, her movements, her sounds, everything. I can bring her to the brink in less than a minute. I sit up on an elbow and turn her chin toward me. “Look at me.” Her eyes open, filled with darkness and desire and tears. In the back of my mind, I’m screaming at myself to pull away, to stop. She’s under my skin, burrowed into my soul, and I hate it. Goddamn it, Jordan! Let me be your type! I can’t wait. It’s as if she can hear my thoughts, because finally, finally, her lips part. “You’re my type,” she whispers. My lips crash to hers, and I come like a fucking firehose. Every thrust is so satisfying. Her body quakes as she whimpers my name over and over. “Fuck, Sunshine. Where have you been all my life? I should have got...