Playing Dirty. Taryn Leigh TaylorЧитать онлайн книгу.
back control, she reached out and placed her hand against his skin, over his heart. His muscles tensed under her palm. His chest was chiseled and his skin was tanned, even now, in the middle of winter, and Lainey couldn’t help but notice that he put the statues she’d studied in her Art History class to shame. Cold marble had nothing on flesh and blood.
She felt the hitch in his breath as she moved her hand, trailing her fingertips down his sternum, across each ridge of his abs, like a mini roller coaster that led down to his belt buckle.
“Do you have a condom?” she asked, tugging at the black leather.
God, she hoped he had protection. She didn’t want to retrieve her purse from the locker. She needed this. It had been so long since she’d had sex, since she’d felt that sweet thrill of arousal, since she’d let herself feel anything.
Lainey didn’t realize she was holding her breath as Cooper reached behind him. A moment later, he pulled a foil square from his wallet and set both items on the counter beside her right hip. She turned to face them, eyes focused on the condom.
Fucking hockey players, she thought, but there was no heat to the words, and only the slightest bit of resignation. Always so damn sure of themselves.
She lifted her head, and when her eyes met Cooper’s in the mirrored backsplash, a shiver of anticipation zipped down the length of her spine. To her surprise, he stepped behind her, and the heat radiating between her back and his stomach was enough to make her knees wobbly. Then he reached around her hip. Thanks to their reflection, she knew he was going to touch her a split second before he did, but the warm, heavy weight of his palm on her stomach still wrung a surprised gasp from her.
In the scratched-up mirror above a bottle of Crown, Cooper’s gaze was locked on her parted lips, and her tongue darted out to moisten them. His groan rumbled against her back as the pressure of his hand pulled her tight against him.
The dual sensation of watching Cooper’s hand trek down toward the waistband of her jeans and the feeling of his calloused palm sliding down the sensitive skin of her stomach was too much.
Lainey swore as she let her head fall back against his shoulder and closed her eyes.
Everything slipped away—the buzz of the fluorescent lights, the stale smell of beer, the niggling thought that she was in way too deep—everything but Cooper. There was nothing but his solid presence behind her, his fingers breaching her jeans and the warm twist of sexual anticipation thrumming through her body. She reached for her belt, unbuckling it to give him better access and expelled a stuttered breath of pleasure as he accepted the invitation and his hand sank lower, fingers flirting with the lacy hem of her underwear.
She reached for the button, but a familiar twinge shot through her right wrist as she grasped the denim.
Not now, she thought, even as the strength in her thumb waned. Not right now.
Lainey squeezed her eyes shut, focusing past the pins and needles. She just needed to undo her pants. She didn’t want to think about hockey right now. Didn’t want the memories to swamp her. She needed to feel whole, to feel okay, just for this moment.
Cooper’s breath against her ear soothed the panic that was blooming through the lust.
“I got it.”
And then his right hand covered hers, and the button popped open before he tugged down the zipper. She was ready for him before his hand slid under her thong and then, finally, came the slow, sweet friction she craved. She might have gasped, she wasn’t sure, because she couldn’t think through the pleasure that swamped her.
All she knew was that his touch was as hot as he was. She could feel his arousal against the small of her back, his breath on her cheek, and his fingers...oh, God, his fingers.
“Yes.” The word came out in a weird half moan, half whisper that would have mortified her if her brain were functioning on more than the most basic level. Cooper slipped one broad finger inside her and his groan of pleasure, along with that exploratory thrust, made her knees give out. His arm tightened on her waist, kept her steady even as his words stole her balance.
“I can’t wait to be inside you.”
He proved he meant it, pressing two fingers into her now, and she was so worked up that the increased pressure had her close, so damn close. She rocked her hips in a slow, sensual rhythm that increased the pressure on her G-spot. Cooper picked up the hint, changing the angle and mimicking her pace.
She reached back, needing to cling to something—raking her nails against his denim-clad thighs as she fisted her hands, desperate to anchor herself in a world spinning out of control.
Cooper ducked his head and pressed his lips against her neck. “I got you. Just let me drive for a while.” He twisted his wrist and just when she thought she might die of lust, he pressed the heel of his hand against her clit.
“Oh God, oh fuck!” Lainey couldn’t stop the curse words. Unlike most guys, who changed things up when the going got good, Cooper doubled down, and when the sweet shock of orgasm radiated through her, Lainey leaned back against him and, taking his advice, she let go while he drove.
* * *
JESUS.
Cooper was desperate for her. Turned on and rock-hard and so fucking desperate.
He’d told her he couldn’t wait to be inside her, and he’d thought he meant it—he had meant it—but now that he’d watched her come apart in his arms? The words he’d used weren’t basic enough; they were too polite for what he needed. He was ravenous for her. He wanted to fuck her until she screamed.
He dragged his mouth up her neck, seduced by the slide of her hair on his chest, the feel of her taut skin under his palms, so soft and smooth. He tugged her jeans down her thighs, doing his best not to be too rough, but she was so damn responsive, and he couldn’t breathe through the all-consuming lust she ignited when she leaned forward, placing her hands on the counter in preparation for what was to come.
Then he got his first glimpse of the smooth globes of her ass, bisected by a sexy swath of black lace thong, and he was done for. His cock surged in response, and he freed himself from his boxer briefs and rolled on the condom, shoving the wrapper into his jeans pocket.
He didn’t wait. He couldn’t.
He slid inside her, and the sweet, hot friction of their bodies wrung a groan from him. Cooper tried to go slow, he did, but even as he told himself to hold on, his hips pumped faster. The slap of their bodies, her whispered curse words and the roar of his blood were the soundtrack to an encounter that was spinning wildly out of control. He dug his fingers into her hips as she used the counter for leverage and pushed back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust.
He ran his hand up her spine, past the clasp of her bra and up the column of her neck. He’d come here expecting a beer, a hard time and temporary respite from his solitude. And now, behind the counter of a run-down sports bar, he’d found heaven.
Cooper caught sight of her in the mirror, and couldn’t look away. She was so fucking gorgeous, so wet, so wild for him. He wanted to make it good for her. At least as good as it was for him. Even as his hips bucked, driving deep, he forced himself to breathe deeply, an attempt to keep from blacking out with pleasure as he tried to focus, to learn her expressions as she told him without words how to please her.
When she bit her lip again and reached between her legs, it took everything Cooper had not to come. Not yet. He grasped her hips even tighter, thrusting high and deep, determined to get her there, gritting his teeth against the exquisite sensation when her fingers brushed his cock as she drove herself to the peak and then she opened her eyes and looked right at him, and finally, finally, he felt her fall over the edge, her muscles pulsing against his cock, legs trembling as he pumped again, and then one more time, his climax hitting hard and fast, wringing everything from him.
He’d never...it had never been like this before. And it wasn’t just the fact that she might be the first woman he’d been with who didn’t