Kulti(180)

Taking a seat at one of the two barstools at the counter, he slid a plate of mixed veggies, sliced sausage and rice to me. Neither one of us said much as we sat together eating. I felt somber and a bit depressed, and I figured he was just giving me space to mope a bit. I’d have to ask him another day how he dealt with these things.

When we finished, he took our dishes and set them in the sink with a small, tight smile. He went and sat on the couch, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I’m not sure how long I sat there but after feeling pretty miserable, I finally got up and made my way to the living room to see him sitting in the middle, going through one of my dollar-store Sudoku books. As soon as he saw me, he set it aside.

Kulti pulled me onto his lap.

It happened so quickly I couldn’t really focus on anything. His mouth dropped to mine, which had already parted in anticipation.

That split second of anticipation was nothing compared to the actual deed. His mouth was warm and supple, willing and demanding as he dragged his tongue across my bottom lip. I did what any other sane person would have done; I opened my mouth. His tongue tasted faintly like the spearmint he chewed on sometimes as it brushed against mine: once, twice, over and over again, thirsty and needy. He was crushing me to his body as our kisses got deeper, rougher, almost bruising. They were devouring.

Holy crap, I loved it.

The game and the loss became a memory and a worry for another time.

My hands reached for his sides, stroking his ribs before drifting to his waist. His hands had a mind of their own, one going straight for the back of my head, burying deep into the thick, wet hair I’d thrown up into a knot. His other hand reached for my jaw, cradling it. I took the time to suck his tongue into my mouth, greedy and selfish. It was too much and not enough.

I wasn’t the only one who thought it. Kulti used his arms to hold me to him. His grip was desperate, like he wanted to crawl inside of me. Something big and hard brushed against my hip as he held me. Oh my God. Oh my God.

Years had passed since the last time I’d had a boyfriend. It had been many, many years since I’d put relationships on hold to focus on my career. So this was… I didn’t even think twice before dipping my fingers under the hem of his shirt, my thumbs brushing the soft skin there.

What did he do? He jerked away from me, just an inch, only an inch, pulling his shirt over his head and putting my hands back at his sides. I ran them up his ribs, over his back and shoulders, feeling, feeling, feeling. God, he was so muscular, his laterals rippled under my touch.

“You smell like oatmeal, clean and sweet…” he rumbled, sucking my earlobe into his mouth.

It didn’t matter that he was still technically my coach until what? Midnight? Or that he was a celebrity of sorts and that I got rude emails from his fans. All that mattered was that he was my friend above all else, and he made my blood boil like no other person in the world ever had. I couldn’t get enough.

Kulti pressed his chest to mine with a savage growl, his fingers pinching the thin material of my tank top in frustration. In one move that I really didn’t want to think about because it was so effortless, Kulti yanked my shirt and sports bra over my head, tossing them aside.

Oh jeez. Oh jeez. I managed to kiss his throat and that soft place where his shoulder met his neck before he pulled back enough to look at my breasts. His breathing became even more ragged than before, which said something for a man who used to sprint up and down a soccer field for a living. He swallowed, his lips parted, and I could have sworn the bulge at my hip jumped.

The German shifted me with those big hands, pulling me across to straddle his hips as his mouth dipped down to catch a nipple between his lips. He gave the flesh a suck. Good lord, he sucked hard. I moaned. I moaned and arched into him, rubbing at the hard, thick shaft nestled between my legs.

He cursed in his low German accent before pulling away far enough to kiss the freckles that ended right above my nipples. I couldn’t stop looking. I couldn’t. It was so hot. I was panting, he was panting. His hands tried to circle my waist, to pull me up even closer to his mouth.

Something insane and deceptive and tempting streaked through my body, and I went for it. Fuck it. My fingers fumbled at his waist, at the button of his jeans, wanting him now. I’d spent most of my life trying to be a good girl, accepting that I wasn’t made for anything that wasn’t worthwhile. As I dug my knees into the cushions of the couch on either side of his hips, trying to get him to help me out so that I could unzip his jeans, he groaned and thrust his hips up. Down they went, the broad dome of his erection peeking out from beneath the elastic band of his underwear.