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 sohot. 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.
The groan that broke through Kulti’s mouth, mixed with my own wild beg. My “Please” that sounded like a cry, was a predecessor for him wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in close. The short hairs on his chest rubbed my nipples.
“Please,” I begged him again.
His answer was to pull back once more and dip his head down low enough so that he could take as much of a breast into his mouth as he could. His hand slipped into the back of my shorts and underwear, skin to skin, palm to cheek. Long fingers trailed down and over the cleft of my ass, lightly brushing over a spot that had me jumping in place before he even reached where I wanted him. His fingertips swept over the two damp lips, and I made an awful, wonderful noise in my throat.
“What do you need,schnecke?” he asked, rubbing a finger in the crease between my cleft and thigh. “You are so wet. Do you want my fingers in you?”
I was going to freaking die.
“Tell me. Do you want my fingers in your warm pussy?” he asked me, eyeing me with wide, bright eyes that lingered over my face as he touched the sensitive skin.
I begged him twice before he finally slipped a finger inside of me.
He dipped so slowly, I thought I would pass out before he pulled back. I started moaning, rolling my hips as his pace increased steadily. His other arm wrapped low around my back to keep me close, our mouths finding each other’s. We kissed and kissed, and he moved his fingers over and over again.
It was the single most sensual thing I’d ever experienced. All I could feel was the warmth of his chest on mine, his arm around me, his mouth pressed to mine, his finger inside. I rocked my hips and then rocked them faster, my breath splintering, chopping itself into pieces, building me higher and higher.
Pulling his mouth away from mine, he trailed wet kisses across my jaw. His lips were at my ear, his thumb circling my clit. “You belong to me.”
A shiver up my spine was the only warning I got from the orgasm coming.
I came. I came and I came and I came.
My legs trembled and my stomach muscles jumped. The entire time, the German kissed my shoulders and my neck. He held me, kissed me and he rubbed his hand over the small of my back.
What felt like half an hour later but was more than likely only a couple of minutes, I slowly settled down to rest my bottom on Kulti’s lap, taking a couple of deep, steadying breaths. His hand had slipped out of my panties and at some point, he’d started cupping my ass. I slumped forward and pressed my forehead to his neck, feeling his pulse thundering away. I gripped his sides and let my thumbs rub up and down his ribs, his proud erection nestled right between us, a purple head staring straight at me, weeping.
I slid one hand down and across the rippled muscles in his abdomen, and with the backs of my fingers, ran a line down the underside of his shaft over the cotton material of his boxer briefs. He took in a quick intake of breath, his hips bucking beneath mine. I looked at his face as I did it again, this time up and down, the muscle jumping beneath my touch. Kulti’s mouth was parted, a deep flush over his cheeks and neck.
I jerked the waistband of his underwear toward me and slipped a hand inside, wrapping my fingers around the hot flesh. What I got in return was a groan, and Kulti tipping his head back as he made just about the sexiest face to ever register on the sexy scale. I leaned forward and bit the part of his throat between his Adam’s apple and chin, the German making a hoarse, erotic noise in his throat.
He was thicker than I expected, longer than I would have imagined. Smooth, hard and hot. Kulti was perfect in my hand. Beyond perfect. And I moved my hand up and down the length staring me right in the face from two feet below. I squeezed as I jerked him off.