The Sterling Boys(47)

My panties never even made it all the way off me. They're stopped somewhere between my knees and my thighs.

His name tears through my lips, and my body stiffens while also trying to tremble, as a series of overwhelming aftershocks violently travel through me. Dane's smile against my most sensitive area doesn't exactly help things. Even his breath is driving me crazy right now.

"You didn't give me time to enjoy that for very long, and I've waited a while to do it," he teases, and if I wasn't so utterly spent right now, I would probably blush or at least have the decency to be embarrassed.

I'm panting as though I just did something strenuous, and no words leave my mouth when I open it. Shit. Did I forget how to speak?

Wet lips on mine decimate the incoherent thoughts in my mind as my body moves on its own. Idly, I realize my panties are now gone, but my bra is still on me. Dane's body is very clothed, and I don't like it.

My hands tangle in his hair again as that talented tongue finds its way inside my mouth once more. His hands travel over me, touching me in places I never thought they would again, and they reacquaint themselves with my somewhat different body. I'm not an eighteen-year-old girl anymore, and judging by his throaty moans, he approves.

Even though my arms now feel like they weigh fifty pounds apiece, I manage to pull Dane's shirt over his head with a less than graceful motion. He chuckles as I limply tug him back to me.

When's the last time I had sex? I can't remember.

"You're cute after you've had an or—"

I cut him off by kissing him hard, because I don't want to be cute right now. I want to be irresistible or sexy or anything but frigging cute.

My bra is either broken or unclipped—unsure which one—and then tossed to the floor, leaving me completely bare beneath him. I've always been a little uncomfortable when I'm naked around a guy, but not with Dane. Everything feels so... right.

I reach for him, fumbling with his very uncooperative belt and zipper. I'm two seconds away from screaming in frustration when Dane takes pity on me, laughing a little before he gets rid of those damn shorts.

When his boxers are the only thing separating us, I might whimper. Just a little. My fantasy is on top of me, his lips and tongue are on my body, and his hands are strumming me in places that make my eyes roll back and my toes curl.

I reach into his boxers—on purpose this time—and take his firm flesh into my hand, tugging at him as I gauge his size with a whole new appreciation. He trembles a little, and then reaches down and places his hand over mine.

"Fucking shit, Rain. We can't... Fuck, we can't do this," he groans, letting out a few more curses.

Someone is going to die tonight.

"Why?" That comes out harsher than I intended, but damn. He's killing me.

His deep laugh doesn't amuse me. It only pisses me off more because I'm drowning in frustration right now.

"I don't have any condoms. It's not like I foresaw this coming. And I doubt any of the guys are going to toss me one, considering it's you I'm in here with."

He doesn't have condoms? Dane Sterling, the man with a reputation as expansive as Tag Masters, doesn't have condoms? So this is hell.

"Why?" I ask, coming off accusatory.

He frowns as he looks down at me, and opens his mouth to speak. After a few seconds he closes it and shrugs.

I'm naked, he's in just his boxers, and we're on a bed. There's no turning back. It's not like I can get pregnant—really don't need to think about that right now because I might cry, and that would kill this mood completely.

If this were anyone else, I'd refuse to do this without a condom. But it's Dane. Despite his reputation, I know damn well he's not going to do anything that could put me in jeopardy. If there was a risk of him having something, we wouldn't have even made it this far.

"I'm... on birth control," I say, ignoring the sting of the truth, and making a calculated maneuver to hide my eyes in an effort to conceal my telltale sign of lying. "Is there any other reason you need a—"

My words are cut off when his lips crush mine and deliver a bruising, hungry kiss. Apparently I just said the magic words.

He rustles between my legs, never breaking our kiss, as he removes his boxers. Without any warning, he thrusts inside me. All it takes is one, gloriously rough stroke, and he's buried deep, making that mortifying moan escape me again.

I'll be embarrassed about my inability to show composure some other time. Right now, Dane Sterling is inside me, stretching me, and making me feel as though my world is perfect in this moment.

"I forgot how fucking incredible you feel," he murmurs against my neck, keeping his body still inside me as though he's afraid to move.

I arch my hips, and though it shouldn't be physically possible, he goes deeper, touching a place deep inside me that stirs a belly-clenching reaction. Oh damn. Dane Sterling really doesn't have a fault.