Block Shot (Hoops, #2)

by Kennedy Ryan

“You can’t unfuck what’s been fucked,

I’ll never see that tongue again without remembering how he lapped at what my body poured out for him.

“I would fuck you until you felt like a virgin. Like I was your first. I’d stay inside you until your body couldn’t remember how he ever felt. How anyone else ever felt.”

“Can I make love to you?” He sprinkles kisses down my neck. “Can we turn on the light?”

No one has ever pushed me the way Jared does, demanded my surrender at every turn. I am the resistance, and yet I can’t resist this man.

“Can I touch you now?”

“Wait.” He grabs my hair, pulling my head back when I press into him, seeking more. “I want this slower.” “Jared.” I reach between us and fist his cock. “We can do slower later.” “No.” He chuckles and pushes my shoulder gently until I’m sitting on the bed. “Slower now.”

I urge his head forward, deeper into the V of my legs, unashamed to ask for what I want. Prepared to demand it if he tries to go slow, to go easy.

“Banner,” he says, still kneeling, his hair damp and cool against my thigh. “Watch me eat this pussy.”

“Do I want you to ride?” He challenges me with one cocked brow. “Hell, no. If you’re taking the top, you better drive.”

I stare into those long-lashed espresso-colored eyes, and all I can think of is how she looked down at me when I was between her knees, head buried in her pussy, slurping at her like one of the intoxicating island drinks that deceive you with their fruity sweetness.

“You and your mom are close?” “Yes, in the way mothers and daughters who are too much alike are close. Usually arguing after ten minutes together.”

“Sorry that got so heavy.” “I don’t mind heavy,” she says softly. “Life is heavy sometimes.”

“So I guess you enjoy the thrill of possibly getting caught?” “No, I just like sex and have it whenever the mood strikes me.”

“I’m not a prude or anything. I just haven’t been given the right opportunities.” “Ohhh, you haven’t been given the right opportunities,” I say, eager to provoke a response. “And here I thought you were the kind of woman who made her own.”

She drags me over her lips until only the tip is still in and then licks me like that vodka popsicle. Thoroughly, greedily, like I’m worth a billion points and she can’t get them down fast enough.

“You see yourself on me?” I ask. “You see how you take me in? How that greedy little pussy eats my dick?”

“I want to be inside you all the time,” I say, urgency making my voice rough. “I want to be in your head.” I kiss her temple. “To know what you’re thinking.” I press her away from me enough to kiss between her breasts and over her heart. “To know what you’re feeling. To know what you need.”

“I won’t share you.” I pull back and grasp her chin, forcing her to look at me. “I know it’s hypocritical. I know I took you. I don’t care. I won’t share.”

My beautiful, brilliant girl with her Julia Roberts lips and her lush ass.

“Touch yourself and think about me,” I urge, taking her earlobe between my teeth. “I want you to slip your fingers in and think about how it’s not enough. How it’s not me.”

When you walk through hell with someone, you burn, too.

She’s the kind of woman you can count on during life’s most brutal storms. Not faint-hearted. Lionhearted.

I’m literally trembling like an untried boy, like an addict tasting his demon-drug. I’ll take Banner any way I can get her. Snorted, smoked, shot in my veins. I want her with marrow-level hunger, the kind you have to dig inside your bones to satisfy.

“I miss your pussy,”

I’m telling you that nothing else is as important to me as you are.”

“You looked at her the way I do.”

“Kiss me,” I whisper, training my eyes on him. “I want to taste like you.”

“Hallelujah,” he whispers. “This pussy has made a believer out of me.”

The sound of his zipper is Pavlovian, and my pussy drips like he pulled a lever, a conditioned response to the sensual prompt.

“She is my daughter. I call her what I like.” “Not when I’m standing right here you won’t,”

can you ever really prepare to walk through Hell?

I don’t live any part of my life to satisfy other people, and I’m damn tired of conducting my love life by the dictates of others.

“Good people may do bad things, wrong things,” he says. “But they are still good people, still capable of doing amazing things, and Banner has more than proven that.”

This man, this beautiful, unattainable man is mine. And he loves me like a Mack truck—the huge ones that just keep coming and don’t stop for anything in their path.

“Are you saying you want this for good?” I ask, more confident than I’ve ever been. “For good?” He frowns and gives a quick shake of his head. “For good is too sanitized. I want your dirt and your pain and your darkness. Your weakness and your flaws.”

“I don’t want you for good, Banner,” he says. “I want you forever.”

“Convince me.”

“Breathe,” he commands, but doesn’t let up, doesn’t pull back. He never does. He knows I don’t want him to. I drop my jaw to accommodate the thickness, the raw thrust of his dick scraping inside my mouth and stretching the walls of my throat.

This is always the hardest part, that first breach. The thick, welcome intrusion.

Mother Nature took her time spreading these hips and this ass.

I bend and drop a kiss on her lips and on my freckles.

I love that the woman who once asked if her ass was square feels confident enough in my love for her body exactly as she is to use that ass against me.

There are many amazing women around. I know that. I’ve met them, but it’s not just who Banner is, but who we are together. Who I am with her. I’d never fit with anyone the way I do with Banner, even though from the outside looking in, we might not make sense.

“When have I ever left you unsatisfied?” I kiss the velvety scented curve of her neck. “Never.” She lays her head on my chest, placing one hand over my heart. “You satisfy me completely, Jared.”

“I want to wake up with you every morning.”

“I want to kiss you every day.”

“Make love to you every day.”

“I want my ring on your finger.”

“I want four kids with you,”