The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood, #2)

by Nikki Sloane

“Show me,” I pleaded. “I want to see it.” He went utterly still. “What?” Blood rushed loudly in my ears, drowning out the panic at what I was suggesting. “You saw me,” I offered. “I . . . want to see you.”

“Are you worried I won’t be able to handle you?” “No.” He was perfectly serious. “I’m worried I won’t be able to handle you.” His gaze dropped down to his dick clenched in his hand. “Look at me. I haven’t fucking touched you, and I’m already close.”

His mouth drifted from mine, planting kisses across my cheekbone, as he moved toward my ear. It made me shiver and melt when he discovered the tender spot on my neck, and then his lust-choked words filled my ear. “Fuck Tinder,” he uttered. “You don’t need it. I’m right here.”

“I’m a lot younger and you were married, and it was wrong, but . . . shit. I wanted this for a long time. And then it happened, and it was even better than I thought it’d be.”

You’re hot. Us together? We’d be off the charts. And don’t act like you’re not interested.” My dirty mouth hadn’t shocked her before—in fact, she’d responded to it. I smirked as I went in for the kill. “Shit, you’re looking at me right now like you want me to bend you over this table.”

“Is this for me?” In response, he nudged his hips forward, essentially fucking my hands, and brought his mouth right beside my ear. “Every . . . last . . . inch.”

“You like the sound of that? Me being your personal sex toy?” “Fuck,” I cried. My mind went white-hot at the idea. “Yeah, I thought so.” He rubbed circles on my swollen clit while he continued to pound at me from beneath. “You can use me however you want to.” My heart sprinted frantically, flying toward explosion. Even though I wasn’t scared, something like panic filled my voice. “You’re going to make me come.” “You’re goddamn right,” he growled.

“You’re, like, really good at that.” His smile was tight. “I don’t want to ruin your fun, but . . . I’m not going to last long if you keep at it.” I went back to using my hand, gliding my fingers teasingly over his dick that was wet with my saliva. “You think it’ll be easier when you’re all bare inside me?” He pressed his lips together. “Yeah, it’s a concern.”

“Don’t come yet,” I said. “Well, don’t be so fucking hot,” he shot back.

Maybe you could only reach a certain level of happiness for yourself, but . . . happiness for someone else? That was limitless. That was joy.